Robert Osborn is a cyber engineer on Earth. His life was a dense web of logic, coding, and the ability to make sense of bare-knuckle chaos that raged on all sides. In life, he was a softie, someone everyone around him could step on, but his brain was nothing short of a knife-edge and at times equally a fortress—an exacting, analytical weapon never too dull.
On one of those drizzly evenings when Robert was on his way home from work but still buzzing with ideas, chewing his way through a particularly tricky coding problem. Cars sped past him, tyres hissed through the puddles next to him, neon signs flickered in the misty drizzle, and, to finish the scene, the distant thunder mutter came from above.
He heard it after that:
"Bang!!"
A gunshot — raw, terrifying, final.
"Bang! Bang!"
Screams followed. Chaos bloomed. There spread the contagion of panic in the streets, the virus that tore the fabric that had been Robert's support. The world tilted.
Then came the silence.
Only not about him, but in his left ear. The sound just… stopped. There was a damp, burning heat in his chest.
His eyes widened.
Rain and blood mingled on his shirt. The pain was blighting and numbing and too real to be anything other than fatal.
He collapsed.
The world grew dim, sinking into darkness. His heart smacked against his ears — fast, then faint, slower … far away. His breath turned shallow. His limbs were cold.
So this is how it ends…?
Darkness claimed him.
He had not been sure how long it had been.
But then—
"Agh!" He winced, lifted a hand as if to shield an eye with a trembling palm. The fingers weren't his. Slimmer. Calloused. Not the numbers of a man who spent his life in the thrall of a keyboard.
The room filled with the smell of grass and wildflowers from the hot breeze. No cars. No city. Just silence and sunlight.
Robert blinked at the light, breathing heavily. Cooke was in a little wooden room, and he was lying on a sort of horsehair bed. Only one window betrays the light. The walls were ancient and a bit warped. The room smelled faintly of dried herbs.
Where am I?
But as he tried to sit up, all of a sudden, an incredibly hot feeling seared white at the back of his eyes.
"Ahhh!"
Grasping his head, the pain began to intensify. In this intensely precipitating moment, sharp and sudden like fiery needles driven into the skull. His back arched, his muscles locked, sweat pouring down again. He gasped for breath.
Memories. Foreign, vivid, and inexorable.
Names he had never heard. Languages he had never spoken. The weight of a noble name. A fallen clan. Screams of battle. Faces—some loving, some betrayed.
"What's happening to me?!" He cried out, the pain forcing him flat against the bed.
It felt like his mind was being split in two—his thoughts drowning in the flood of another life.
And then—stillness. The pain dulled, replaced by a throbbing ache and… clarity. The memories remained. Sharp. Complete.
Robert blinked, chest heaving. His mind spun.
"Wait… have I transmigrated? Like in those fantasy novels back on Earth?"
The thought was insane. And yet—here he was. Alive in someone else's body. In another world. With someone else's past... yet his name.
Robert Osborn.
The name hadn't changed.
The man whose body he now occupied had lived in a world of mana, monsters, and martial arts. Born into the once-mighty Osborn Clan—nobles who had once stood at the peak of power.
Now, they were broken. Their influence was shattered. Members lost. Forgotten.
The Osborns had been pushed to the outskirts of power, forced to settle in Magcow—a so-called "Magical City" ruled by decaying noble families and rising predators. Three major clans shared territory here, an uneasy balance barely held in place.
Robert clenched his fists. Callouses met his palm.
This wasn't just a second chance. This was a broken legacy of a once-noble family, lying, waiting for someone to come and reclaim it.
Then it happened.
A sound—not heard, but felt—like a metal chime striking deep within his soul.
[ Ding… System Binding Initiated… ]
Robert's breath caught. A tingling buzz coursed through his spine.
[ 10%... ][ 20%... ][ 40%... ][ 60%... ][ 80%... ][ 100%... ]
[ Binding Complete. ]
The voice was cold. Emotionless. Mechanical.
[ Congratulations, Host. The Strongest Family System has successfully bound your soul. ]
His eyes widened. "A... system?"
Just like in the novels he'd devoured back on Earth.
Before he could even process it, the voice continued:
You have inherited the legacy of the Osborn Clan. System objectives: Rebuild your family's power. Restore their lost glory. Anyone who tries to stop your clan should pay the ultimate price.
A glowing interface appeared before his eyes, semi-transparent and floating. It displayed a series of tabs: Clan Status, Quests, Bloodline, Skills, and Reputation.
Everything was real.
His breathing quickened. Heart pounding.
This wasn't just a second life.
It was a mission.
Robert Osborn was no longer a man out of place.
He was a man with a purpose.
And with this system... he would turn the fallen Osborns into the strongest clan this world had ever seen.