What’s it like to be a water mage in a world where water is valued more than gold? Alas, I had to find out for myself. For people like me, the choice is usually simple—chains. But the prospect of siphoning water for the rest of my days isn’t exactly a doubtful happiness, is it?
Just yesterday, I was an ordinary middle-manager, and the most that worried me was the quarterly report. And today I woke up in the body of a twenty-five-year-old heir from a disgraced house, in the midst of the great Wasteland—where local mages look at me as a living source.
I survived a slaughter in an ancient labyrinth. Beneath the sands of Voronezh, I had hoped to find answers—but instead I ran into a mad shaman who screamed that the Seal of Nine would take from me something far more valuable than life.
At least, I learned the first rule of the wasteland: when hunting monsters, don’t become one yourself. The only problem is that I’ve already managed to break it.