Medieval Gacha Lord

Jerusalem. Princess Sibylla held her son, softly reciting from a newly acquired thick volume. On its cover was a white-haired, stern-faced middle-aged man carrying two swords. This was a fantasy novel that had recently become all the rage in Jerusalem.

"Behind Van Helsing's back are two swords: a steel sword to eliminate treacherous officials, a silver sword to slay demons and evil spirits. People fear them yet need them, calling them mutated bastards on one hand, while being unable to do without their help on the other..."

Sibylla's gentle voice narrated the legendary Witcher's tale. Little Baldwin listened with rapt attention, nestled unmoving in his mother's embrace.

"That's enough for today."

"Mother, is it over already?" Little Baldwin was somewhat disappointed.

Sibylla put on a stern face. "This is merely entertainment; you must not indulge excessively. You must always remember that you are the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Jerusalem."

Little Baldwin said with a look of yearning, "If only I could become a Witcher, even if it meant living in a damp swamp with water hags. The Witcher's signs, crossbow, silver sword, and his strong physique, his sharp sword skills—Mother, it's truly fascinating!" he chattered excitedly.

The Witcher's life of enduring the elements, as described in the novel, captivated him. He couldn't imagine the suffering of hunger and cold; he only thought it was very cool, very dashing.

Being born into royalty was both a fortune and a misfortune. As Baldwin IV's sole heir, he was perpetually caught in the vortex of political struggle. Countless gazes, filled with ulterior motives and malice, were cast upon him from shadowy corners. The number of times he had stepped out of the palace in all these years could be counted on one hand.

Princess Sibylla's face showed a trace of severity. "Born into royalty, you shoulder a sacred mission, just like Princess Ciri, the sole heir to the Kingdom of Cintra, described in the novel."

"But didn't Princess Ciri also travel far and wide with Van Helsing?"

"You can understand this as the knight who saved the last royal princess. Princess Ciri will, in the future, eventually reclaim the authority that is rightfully hers and, as a woman, reign over the kingdom." Sibylla's expression was solemn. She stated as if it were a matter of course, "Jerusalem will always belong to our Baldwin family."

'But where is my Van Helsing?'

***

In the desolate wilderness, the Knights of Jerusalem, clad in blue surcoats, escorted the royal procession, advancing slowly.

Baldwin IV, smiling, handed the book Lothar had personally given him to pass the time to Baron Godfrey, who sat opposite him. "Lord Godfrey, if you have leisure, you might want to read this novel."

Godfrey looked somewhat astonished. "Is this the book Baron Lothar gave Your Majesty?"

"Indeed. Apart from amusement, I have also seen many novel things in it. Perhaps it can subtly change people's perspectives."

What he saw in this "The Witcher" written by Lothar was a political philosophy akin to his own. Vendettas only deepen the contradictions between ethnic groups.

The discrimination suffered by non-human beings—was it not just like the infidels within many noble fiefs in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, who were never regarded as human? If the Kingdom of Jerusalem was merely a colonial regime where a minority ruled the majority, it would sooner or later be devoured by the increasingly powerful Zoroastrian forces.

Here, compared to the vast numbers of infidels, Christians and Franks were the minority. They couldn't possibly exterminate all infidels and completely change the demography of this land.

Only by allowing those infidels to also sit at the table and share in the benefits could this kingdom endure for long.

On this point, the Umayyad Caliphate in Iberia seemed to have done better. In that kingdom, the Jews, originally outsiders, possessed a status nearly comparable to that of the Zoroastrians; they would naturally shed their blood to protect the living space they had earned with such difficulty.

***

In a tavern, a bard played the lute, reciting a song from the preface of "The Witcher" novel in a charming foreign accent.

"Well sung, Irishman from Munster! This truly is a poignant love story! But what I want to know is, who is the White Wolf?"

"Of course, it's the great Witcher, Van Helsing! This is the hottest story in Jerusalem lately! Legend says Van Helsing is the reincarnation of Archangel Gabriel..."

"Oh, Heavenly Father above, this is blasphemy against the Holy Angel!"

Someone else pursed their lips. "What blasphemy? You'll know once you read it. The Witcher practices justice, punishes villains, and eliminates evil. He's far more humane than the holy angels priests talk about."

A war of words instantly erupted in the tavern. The devout believed this novel was blasphemy against God. Others felt one shouldn't be too harsh on a fantasy novel with a fictional setting. Still others simply thought, if God could truly uphold justice, wouldn't that be more worthy of reverence than the clay and wooden idols on the walls?

In Jerusalem, with its dense theological atmosphere, such debates were inevitable. This further exacerbated the woes of Archbishop William, who was already terribly worried about how to explain the matter of the lost holy relic.

Princess Isabella, somewhat fatigued, rubbed her temples. Her brother was personally leading the expedition; in many people's eyes, this would be the last magnificent performance of her exceptionally talented brother's reign.

Although Jerusalem was almost emptied of troops, the remaining nobles were still colluding privately, and Princess Isabella and Princess Sibylla, both possessing claims to the throne, naturally became the center of this vortex.

"The love between Van Helsing and Yennefer is truly something to yearn for."

"If only I could possess powerful magic like Yennefer, I could just open a portal wherever I want to go—I haven't seen my family in three years."

The maidservants' whispers made her irritable. "What are you talking about? What Van Helsing, what Yennefer? Which legendary novel's outdated story is that from again? I warn you, don't disturb my afternoon rest again!" she said with some disdain.

But in the afternoon, when she attended a noble banquet, she found that almost everyone at the tables was discussing this novel. She, a princess of such dignified status, couldn't even get a word in.

She made up her mind: upon returning to her bedchamber, she must summon a literate tutor to read "The Witcher" to her properly.

Lothar didn't know that the "The Witcher" novel, a small batch of which he had ordered his printing workshop to release before leaving, had already begun to take Jerusalem by storm.

Or perhaps, it was all within his expectations. Its content, richer and more varied than knightly romances, and the magnificent fantasy world it described—something most people couldn't even imagine—captivated the common populace, whose spiritual nourishment was meager. Even decadent nobles were often willing to squeeze out some of the time they previously wasted in bed to listen to this novel.

***

At this moment, Lothar sat limp on the ground, somewhat exhausted. Killing the Crocodile God had successfully raised his level, but this fatigue was not physical; it was more a mental enfeeblement caused by wielding that vast blood magic power.

[Your level has increased.]

The system's notifications chimed continuously.

Killing the Crocodile God had granted him an extremely rich amount of experience. From being less than level four, he had directly risen three levels, reaching level six, with his experience bar over halfway, gaining a total of nine attribute points.

[You have completed the milestone: Act of Deicide]

]You will receive a talent draw focused on enhancing personal abilities. This draw guarantees a minimum quality of Epic.]

The system's milestone completion notification informed him of the Crocodile God's death, finally allowing the taut string in his mind to relax.

He didn't hesitate for a moment and directly chose to draw. Although the Crocodile God was dead, the power he had borrowed from Fringilla was also depleted. This feeling of powerlessness made him, who had just experienced immense strength, feel exceptionally insecure.

Golden light flashed in the narrow secret chamber. Lothar's eyes lit up. Apart from when Banu descended, this was the first time he had seen golden brilliance in a system draw!

The lights flowed in the air like shoals of fish and finally, selecting Lothar, who sat before the shattered idol of the Crocodile God, as their target, rapidly converged upon him.

[You have obtained a Legendary-grade talent.]

[Dragonborn Bloodline: Within your body flows the blood of the ancient Dragonborn. Though passed down through generations and extremely diluted, it has reawakened with vitality in your generation.

All of your attributes increase by twenty percent.

Your Health and recovery ability will be greatly enhanced.

Your resistance to witchcraft and curses will receive an additional one hundred percent bonus.

You will be immune to most diseases.

The probability of you siring offspring is reduced by ninety percent.

Your lifespan increases by one hundred years.

When you undergo personal elite promotion, your Dragonborn talent will advance to 'True Dragon Body']

Lothar was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "There's no dragon girl retainer in the system, so I become a little dragon boy instead?"

In the darkness, he opened his eyes, a glint of gold flashing within.

The twenty percent increase to attributes had a limited effect on his currently low base stats. But this feeling, as if he had been completely reborn, still made the entire world seem somewhat different to his senses.

The most obvious change was that he had obtained [Dark Vision]; even in the pitch-black secret chamber, he could still see clearly.

"It's just a pity, by the time I can level up to the point of elite promotion, it will be who knows how many years and months away."

Retainers could be upgraded by spending money, but his own main body's leveling could not. Although, benchmarked against a three-star retainer, his max level was only fifty-five, to reach that through conventional means would probably take several decades...

'Perhaps I should just act as the executioner myself and deal with all the prisoners of war obtained after the next battle? Or, by researching the Black Death, spread pestilence to one infidel city after another; by then, tens of thousands will naturally die.'

The moment Lothar conceived this idea, a chill ran through his heart.

'No! Something's not right! How on earth did I come up with such anti-human thoughts? Or is it that the change in bloodline truly affects one's mind?'