It was a strange dream.

In his sleep, Ivan dreamed that his father, who had been dead for many years, stood in front of him and waved his hand at him.

Behind him was a statue. A god with four different faces, dressed in armor and riding a white horse, wielding a sword and spear at the same time, looked at him from above, without any emotion.

And behind the gods, there were three hundred soldiers with grim expressions, armed with spears.

The man in front of him spoke, as he had whispered in his ear all those years ago.

"My child, when you were born, the forests of Holy Byzantium whispered your name, Ivan Vasilyevich. ”

"Child, I proudly watch you grow day by day and become the embodiment of justice. ”

"But remember, we have always ruled this country with wisdom and strength. I also believe that you will be cautious in using your great powers. ”

But the real victory is the fighting spirit in the hearts of your people. ”

"One day, my life will come to an end. ”

"And you, will be crowned king!"

The last sentence exploded from Ivan's ears like a metal knock, buzzing.

The nerves sent signals to his head, forcing him back to reality.

Ivan subconsciously woke up from his sleep, his mind still reverberating in a low whisper like the song of the Nibelungen or Homer's epic, the crackling sound of burning wood in the darkness, the spark spreading, and disappearing into the infinite darkness. Only the icy night breeze blows the woolen blanket,

He picked up the dead branch at hand and threw it at the burning bonfire, the light brought by the bonfire tried to dispel the darkness that lingered around him.

How many years has it been since he came to this very different world as a time-traveler who occupies a magpie's nest?

Memories of his past life were blurred, and Ivan could no longer remember clearly, but while he was still an infant, his father, the Holy Byzantine Sovereign, was defeated in the war with the Holy See and banished to the northern forests by his brother, the Pope's regent.

After the defeat of the struggle between the imperial power and the clerical power, all that awaits the monarch is endless suffering.

A noble imperial monarch dressed in a thin leather case and carrying his wife and the child in his arms through the cold and uninhabited forest was imprinted in Ivan's mind and lingered.

Until the death of his father, Frederick, Ivan's childhood was spent in aristocratic intrigues, hunger and cold.

He had hid in the forest, watching the banquets of the royal family and the aristocracy, and the brilliant crystal lamps illuminated every smiling mask of intrigue.

Disgusted with the Byzantine aristocracy, he looked at the moths that stood tall above him with great hatred.

These nobles are bloodsucking moths attached to the people of the Empire.

He will never even forget the bloody night when his father and mother were hanged by evil bandits, the way the assassins saw himself as if they were Satan and demons, and the words that lingered in his ears.

"Son of the Devil. ”

He had forgotten how the assassins had died, and when he regained consciousness, the ground was covered with charred corpses from the burning fire.

And his parents who were lying in a pool of blood.

Crackling.

The sound of crackling wood made Ivan slowly wake up from his past memories and clench the cold in his hands. Now he is qualified enough to challenge the declining chaos and reclaim the empire that was rightfully his own.

"The vile and shameless little men flaunted their imminent fall in their vanish glory by playing a monotimbral flute even more disgusting than Azathos in my father's sacred Winter Palace. When the long pomp and circumstance is gone, the great empire will eventually descend into a grave under dirt and moss, turning to dust. ”

He raised his head, and the stars had dissipated in the reddening of the morning light.

"Holy Byzantium needed not a Messiah and a Messiah, it needed only a leader who could establish an iron-blooded order. ”

"Kill the usurper who betrayed Emperor Frederick. ”

"Kill all the hypocritical nobles. ”

"And ...... Kill the Pope who started it. ”

Talking to himself, he stood up, and at this time the long dark night in the northern part of Holy Byzantium was finally coming to an end, and the first rays of dawn slowly rose on the distant horizon, gradually illuminating Ivan's grim face, and the vast shadow land behind him.

The Tunguska River meanders past the edge of the forest, but all that remains of the vast Tunguska forest is the charred black of the burning fire. Every inch of land was burned to death under the raging flames. The forest that had stood in the snow and ice for hundreds of years was finally burned to the ground.

And in the middle of the forest, it was as if a terrible natural disaster had been experienced. The catastrophe that fell from the sky left a huge pit in the ground, and the surrounding trees were poured in all directions by some powerful impact, and the heat and blazing heat turned the entire vibrant verdant forest into dust in an instant.

No one knows what happened here, just as no one knows what Ivan has been through in the years since his parents died.

Young children who once hid in Tibet are now the heirs of the returned empire.

He walked through the vast northern forests, and with vengeance and hatred, he re-entered the land of Holy Byzantium.

But from today onwards, everything in the past is left behind in the vanished forest.

Only his own name will not be forgotten.

His name is Ivan Vasilyevich.

Exactly the same name as the most brutal Russian tsar in history.

And, exactly the same life.

An Avenger.

A tyrant.

(This is a fantasy novel that incorporates elements of the Cthulhu Mythos, the Bible, and Slavic mythology.) ）