6 Money, Money, Money, Money....

If this truly is Silvencrest, the Silvencrest from the novel... maybe things won't be so bleak. I gotta search my memories, see if there's any overlap with this world and the one from Rei's novels. Back then, as Rei, I devoured those online stories. Escaped into them, really. The library was my sanctuary in my childhood, filled with fantastical tales. Slaying calamity-class beasts, warriors toe-to-toe with dragons.

Before... before I died, no, before I was murdered... I was reading about the classic demons-versus-everyone.The demons, fascinating creatures who were slaves to their darkest desires. Pride demons reveled in endless war, Wrath demons thrived on chaos. Greed and Envy types carried out thefts, while the sadistic lust demons reveled in inflicting misery. The sloth demons were a different breed – the most powerful, ironically, but also the most content to remain dormant. Disturb their slow life, however, and you'd face a terrifying creature.To be lazy you gotta be powerful, no?

The main character, Azrael, had the typical tragic backstory. With the arrival of the demons, the world transformed. A new continent emerged, mana thickened in the air, and monsters grew monstrously strong.With danger came opportunity, potential of beings increased.

The demons however grew bored. They came to a 'peaceful' world. So they decided to go to war, good idea to relieve boredom right? It wasn't just a war with one particular race noo... they wanted smoke with everyone.No race was spared – humans, the weakest (the average human was about as powerful as a measly four-star mana being), suffered the brunt of the assault. Azrael's family was part of the collateral.

Why collateral you ask? Well in the greater picture, that family of Azrael's was just another background family to fill the village. Even the village's name wasn't mentioned.

But somehow a person from this no-name place would be the strongest even awakening some powerful bloodline.

The demon leading the charge, a baron-class monstrosity, spared him out of a twisted desire to see him wallow in despair. Azrael witnessed unimaginable horrors – his father brutally tortured, his mother forced to take her own life rather than face further humiliation.Her final words, an apology for failing to protect him, echoed in his ears. His father's dying command: "Run!"

But at sixteen, grief-stricken and overflowing with rage, Azrael ignored him. He charged at the demon, a mere child wielding a dagger. The outcome was predictable.

Azrael lunged at the demon, only to be effortlessly swatted aside. The world faded as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Azrael lost consciousness with the fading screams of his tortured father echoing.

The Human race countered sending soldiers to the battlefront where Azrael's village was.They found the village in flames corpses either decapitated, limbs scattered, bodies defiled, and a man who was apparently impaled limbless in the middle of the village. Their stomachs churned in disgust of the sight.

Yet in all this destruction the soldiers the discovered a boy still alive though injured.

Azrael's eyes showed grief, raw and potent, that threatened to consume him, laced with fury. A choked sob escaped his lips.

But as expected of the main character, he recovers and all hate and rage he directed them towards the demons, swearing vengeance not just on the Demonic Baron but the race as a whole.

At the recovery camp he 'luckily' encounters the saint and the holy daughter. I said 'luckily' cause how could a race dispatch important figures such as a saint and the holy daughter to the first encounter with the enemy. Must be that main character juice.

Anyway they discover's the boy has traces of light magic or was it holy magic? Is holiness an element? I didn't know the author didn't talk much about it. Well Azrael then gets sent to the church to train as a Holy Knight.

Two years. Two years of relentless attacks from the demonic hordes, their monstrous numbers seemingly endless. The races formed an alliance, a fragile pact forged out of desperation.Elves, Dwarves, Humans, Beastmen, heck even dragons felt threatened by the demons – all races setting aside ancient grievances to face a common enemy.

And then, the intervention of the goddesses, I don't know why but there were no male gods in the novel, well the goddesses had their blessings bestowed upon chosen individuals like Azrael, champions destined to lead the fight against the demonic threat. Each champion coming from a race. The main character still became a monster among even the chosen.

It didn't stop there the races brought all resources and technology at their disposal to form an academy to train their young for the fight against the demons.The academy, a symbol of hope, a training ground for heroes,Arcana Mysteria.

If this Silvencrest truly mirrored the one from the novel, then Arcana Mysteria had to exist.

I settled onto the thin and dusty mattress, my mind churning with the implications of my newfound memories. The novel had given me a glimpse of this world, a world teetering on the brink of war with demons. But more importantly, it provided a glimmer of hope. Arcana Mysteria, the academy that trained heroes, a place where I could learn to control mana, hone my combat skills, and become strong enough to survive to the end.

A grim smile played on my lips. Survive. That was the baseline, the absolute minimum. I craved more than just survival; I craved power, the ability to carve my own destiny in this harsh world. The knowledge gleaned from the novel will help but it can be flawed, as the 'amazing' author didn't give in-depth descriptions.

Pulling myself up, you paced the cramped confines of my room, my gaze flickering to the single, dusty window. Sunlight streamed in, painting a golden rectangle on the floor. According to Raven's memories,the current year was 171 Althea.

If what I remember is correct the years are named after the goddess each alternating year to year from Althea the human goddess to Bruna the dwarven goddess to Drayla the dragons goddess to Lalya the elven goddess to Kira the Beastmen goddess. memories, the current year was 171 Althea, which was coming towards an end as only 2 months were left.

So after some rough calculations, a wave of relief washed over me – I had four years. Four years until the demons launched their full-scale assault, four years to prepare myself. The demon invasion would likely begin in 176 Althea.

I clenched my fists, a surge of determination coursing through me. Four years to get strong. Four years to amass a shitload of money and get a powerful backing for myself. But where should I start?

The stale smell of yesterday's grime clung to my nostrils as I surveyed the disaster zone that was my room. This wouldn't do. Disgust gnawed at me – who in their right mind could live like this? Especially the previous Raven. Don't even get me started on the dubious culinary choices evidenced by the collection of what could only be described as "questionable" food containers.

Out came the cleaning supplies. With a raven's meticulousness, I scrubbed, swept, and tossed. Trash bags bulged as evidence of my efforts. By the time I finished, the room was practically bare – a far cry from the previous mountain of dirty clothes, overflowing dishes, and unidentified… well, things.

A wave of satisfaction washed over me as I surveyed the clean floor and the few remaining possessions – the bare necessities. A quick shower (with the precious water I hoarded) and a bit of self-grooming completed the transformation.

Now, with an empty stomach rumbling in protest, I settled on the floor with a grimace. All I could find for sustenance were some dried fruits that looked like they'd seen better days, but beggars couldn't be choosers. As I gnawed on the leathery fig, my mind turned to a more pressing concern – funds. At least the two years of scrounging as a familiar cleaner had yielded some results. I patted the pouch hidden against my chest – a meager sum of 3200 bronze coins, translating to a measly 32 silver coins.

Now, here's where things got interesting. In the novel, Silvencrest, offered a tantalising possibility. Apparently, the hero (Azrael, of course) had stumbled upon a bandit hideout overflowing with gold after a particularly nasty dragon fight. The noble oaf then proceeded to donate the entire haul to the needy of Silvencrest, channeling it through the local church. The priest, however, was a closet hedonist with a taste for the finer things in life. No telling if that money ever reached the intended recipients.

A sly grin spread across my beak. Let's face it, I was about as needy as anyone could get right now. Besides, from a certain perspective, I was simply reclaiming what was rightfully mine (Azrael's, technically, but details, details).

But there was a snag. The author of the novel, bless his clueless soul, hadn't bothered to mention the exact location of the bandit hideout. "Outside the walls of Silvencrest," he'd written, probably thinking no reader would ever be foolish enough to get isekai'd into this crazy world. Silvencrest's role in the story was to highlight religious hypocrisy, not provide treasure maps.

Well, useless author be damned. His memories did offer some clues.But for me, it was a potential gold mine. Literally. A chance to jumpstart my path to in this world. My memories provided some crumbs – a fight with a dragon near Silvencrest, the bandits targeting merchants, the loot hidden "outside the walls." Logical deduction time. The hideout had to be in a forest, close enough to the usual trade routes for easy pickings, but hidden enough to avoid unwanted attention. Perfect ambush territory. Cause the hero fought the dragon by throwing trees to by time for his ultimate attack– so the hideout had to be in a forest.

Theory was all well and good, but it wouldn't put a single gold coin in my pouch. Fieldwork was necessary. An expedition to the outskirts of Silvencrest, a treasure hunt of sorts. But first, preparations. I wouldn't be waltzing into bandit territory unarmed. A decent weapon was a must, something sturdy and easy to handle. Maybe a good hunting knife or a sturdy club. Food and water were no-brainers, and a bedroll wouldn't hurt for a night under the stars. This little room, with its bare floor and single, dusty window, might see its last of me. A greedy glint flickered in my eyes. This scavenger hunt wasn't just about survival anymore; it was about striking it rich. Time to trade rags for riches.

Okay... let the treasure hunting begin!