Overlord: Wrong World, Can I Change It?

The day started like most others: me, Lucien, fake six-year-old, swinging a wooden sword behind the forge like my life depended on it.

And honestly, some days, it kind of did. I'd promised Dad, Erob the Forge Dad, that I'd help out after breakfast, but I always squeezed in training beforehand.

It's not like I'm prepping for a school recital. I'm preparing for monsters, chaos, and worse. Sounds fun, right?

Swing, pivot, slash. Step, guard, thrust. My movements had become smooth, muscle memory starting to take over. That's when I heard footsteps.

"Wow… you're fast."

I froze. Damn it.

A soft, youthful voice behind me. I turned.

There she was: chestnut braids tied with little red ribbons, a cream-colored dress with delicate embroidery at the hem, and bright blue eyes that sparkled with both curiosity and confidence. She looked like she'd been plucked straight from a noble's garden party, completely out of place beside a soot-stained forge.

"I'm Tina. You're Lucien, right? My grandpa is Gilo. He says you're really good at not talking."

I blinked. That was… accurate.

"I talk sometimes. Haven't seen you around before," I replied. It felt like confessing a crime.

"Oh, my parents are merchants. They're off on a long trip, so they left me with Grandpa. At least I'm safe here." She stepped closer, eyes locked on my sword like it was Excalibur. "Can I hold it?"

"It's just wood," I said, handing it over. She gripped it like a shovel and gave it a wobbly swing.

"It's heavy! But you move it like it's nothing!"

Oh great. This is going to be a pain.

"I train," I shrugged.

"Every day. Even yesterday. Even in the rain."

"…Yeah."

Adam, why am I having this conversation with a six-year-old?

"I like swords too. And adventurers."

"Same."

"How old are you?" she asked as she handed me back the wooden sword.

I paused a couple of seconds, then said, "Six."

"I'm eight. I'm older than you."

Then she grinned, a mischievous little smile. It was the kind of grin that screamed, "I know something you haven't figured out yet," and made me feel like I'd just signed a contract without reading the fine print.

"I've decided. I'm going to marry you."

FBI, open up! My brain short-circuited. System failure. Lucien.exe has stopped responding. Task Manager is unresponsive.

"W-What?"

"You're strong, quiet, mysterious. And not gross like the other boys. So yeah. I'll marry you."

My blood turned to ice. My wrists, too.

"Uh… gotta go. Forge duty."

Can someone please explain why? Why does the universe hate me this much? Look, she's just a kid. This'll pass. I'll ignore her for a while.

"Okay!" she called after me. "See you tomorrow!"

Tomorrow?! Did she just say tomorrow?! Oh Adam, what did I do to deserve this?

Next morning. Same spot. Same sword. Same existential dread.

Swing harder. Faster. Maybe if I moved fast enough, I'd phase into another timeline. My brain was still partially frozen from yesterday.

"You're putting in some real energy today. Keep that up and you'll wear a hole in the air," Erob said as he carried in firewood.

"She's coming back," I muttered with a dead-eyed stare.

"Who?" he grinned knowingly.

"You know who."

He laughed. "Relax. Girls your age fall in love with pinecones. It'll pass."

I wasn't so sure. The look in her eyes yesterday? That wasn't a crush. That was a vow. A sparkly, terrifying vow. And honestly, I was afraid.

While I was lost in thought...

She came back. Of course she did. This time with a basket.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Breakfast!" she chirped. "We can eat together!"

"I'm not hungry."

Please, just ignore me.

"Too bad. Heroes need strength. Sit. I brought jam from my mom."

Jam? She said jam? I haven't had bread and jam in forever. It used to be my second addiction. Right after energy drinks.

So, like an idiot, I sat down. I have no idea what I'm doing, I swear.

She handed me bread with jam.

"Thanks," I said with a small nod.

She watched me eat. Then pulled out a notebook. Started taking notes. Actual notes. Now that I looked at her more closely, her clothes were pretty high quality. Much better than mine. Even the jam was high quality.

Her parents must've done well in business…

Of course she broke my thoughts in half.

"You look serious when you chew," she said. "Like you're planning a war."

"I kind of am," I muttered under my breath. Just not yet. Or maybe never. Or maybe sooner than I think.

After breakfast, she handed me a drawing. Me, holding a sword, standing on top of a mountain, surrounded by sparkles.

I paused at that. Sparkles?

I stared at the image for a while. The sparkles were drawn in with care, framing my body, especially around the arms and chest, but also faintly traced around the head. It almost looked like... aura. Ki? Mana? Life force? That specific shimmer near the temples was eerily close to what I'd been focusing on during training, channeling Ki into my head to improve awareness. I hadn't told anyone about that. No one had seen it. And yet, here it was, sketched out in a child's drawing, like it was just another detail in a fairytale. But no, that couldn't be right. She was just a kid. A very strange kid.

"Why the sparkles?" I asked, cautious.

"You have sparkles around you a lot. I like them," she explained with a cheerful shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"…Thanks."

I didn't know what was worse. The idea that she could see something invisible to everyone else… or the possibility that she was just making it all up, and still managed to describe something so unnervingly close to what I'd been trying to cultivate.

Okay, maybe not a magical ability, but definitely unsettling.

Day Three. I changed training spots.

Didn't work.

She found me again. This time with a notebook.

"What's that?" I asked.

"My novel. About you."

"Oh Adam."

"You're the prince of a lost kingdom. You wield the Flame Fang, a legendary sword. You're fighting darkness and loneliness. Your heart is heavy, but you carry it with honor. You wander the land, misunderstood, tragic, but noble. Your enemies fall before your silent resolve."

Her voice was sugar-coated, like syrup poured over fresh pancakes. But the words coming out of her mouth? Absolutely unhinged.

I stared at her, wide-eyed, like someone who'd just heard a cat recite Shakespeare. My brain needed a moment. Maybe two.

Deranged. That was the word. A perfect cocktail of fairy tales, anime tropes, and third-grade confidence.

It wasn't just what she said, it was how she said it. Like an author describing her protagonist after twenty rewrites and three energy drinks.

And as she kept talking, detailing my noble suffering and destined path, I found myself stuck in some surreal daze. Like hearing a fantasy audiobook narrated by a sugar-high child with too much imagination and too much free time.

I was about to ask how old she was again.

Eight. Right. Just eight.

My blood ran cold. Goosebumps.

"And I win?" I asked, already regretting it.

"Of course. Then we get married."

Cold wrists. Again.

POV: Third Person

That evening, at the chief's house, Tina was recounting her saga to Gilo.

"…and then he spun and his hair made this sparkly arc! And he eats jam like it's a royal duty!"

Gilo sipped from his mug, chuckling.

"So, you've fallen for the swordsman, huh?"

"Head over heels. I'm going to marry him. I just have to wait. Maybe five years. Or eight. Depends."

"And does he know this?"

"Not yet. But I've got time."

Gilo laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool. And thought to himself:

'Poor kid, you're in real trouble now. When my granddaughter sets her mind to something, there's no stopping her. Rest in peace, boy.'

POV: Lucien

I was in the forge, hammering like it owed me money.

Erob watched. "You're… putting a lot of emotion into that metal today."

"She's writing a novel."

"About you?"

"Yes."

"You're already the main character? Impressive."

"She gave me a sword name."

"What is it?"

"…Flame Fang."

Erob nearly dropped his tongs from laughing.

"Dad. Please. Don't encourage her."

"I didn't say a word!"

But his eyes were laughing. I didn't like that.

"Maybe I should have her name all our swords. My new daughter-in-law has talent."

At that, I accidentally released a burst of Ki into my body, just enough to strike the metal with way too much force.

The sound made Erob jump and take a step back.

His face screamed, What the hell?

I pointed the hammer at him like a sword.

"Don't you dare say that again."

He swallowed hard.

By the end of the week, I stopped resisting. Tina was… inevitable.

She brought snacks. Stories. Tried to train, badly. She named every move I made, often inaccurately.

"That one's the Whispering Wind Cut!"

"That's me adjusting my stance," I replied, deadpan.

"Still sounds cool."

She tried renaming my sword again. "Silent Fang? Thunder Slash?"

"It's a stick."

"A legendary stick!"

Adam… help me.

And yet… despite everything… I started to tolerate her. Maybe.

Not that I'd admit it. I'm a grown-ass man in a child's body. I survived military school, engineering exams, and university. I could survive one persistent eight-year-old.

Thinking back on the last few days

I groaned into the darkness.

"If this is some reincarnation punishment, I get it. I surrender. Please just… give me a goblin ambush instead."

I rolled over.

Closed my eyes.

And slept.