I transmigrated into another world.
A backward world with no magic, no battle aura, not even electricity.
And, of course, I started as an orphan.
Fortunately, transmigration did give me one small consolation.
Every time I slept, I experienced different lives within my dreams.
Lives straight out of myth and fantasy.
In one dream, I was one of the ancient gods who led the great rebellion against the Primordial Creator.
In another, I became the most powerful grand duke of an ancient empire, the very founder of the nation that would one day rule the continent.
In another, I was the greatest hero of the mythological age, the nightmare feared by every evil existence beneath the heavens.
In another, I stood as the King of the Elves, the oldest ruler beneath the Twin Sacred Trees.
And in one particular dream…
I became a girl's god.
Only to play the cruelest joke imaginable on her.
…
Every era carried my legends.
Every civilization preserved traces of my existence.
But no one ever realized that all those legendary figures…
were the same person.
Then one day, someone suddenly told me the truth.
Those were not dreams.
They were real.
Every life.
Every legend.
Every goddamn one of them.
And even worse?
All the women I left behind…
the goddesses, saintesses, princesses, empresses, queens
they're apparently still alive.
