In the midst of a vast and arid desert stood a magnificent city known as Camelot. The city towered grandly, like an oasis of glory in the middle of the barren silence.
Not far from that city, a line of tents stood firm—headquarters of the Crusader Knights. Among the many tents, there was one that appeared ordinary. Yet inside, a young boy lay asleep.
He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, his body resting on a thin bed of straw. But suddenly, his expression shifted—his once calm face twisted into unease, as if haunted by a nightmare. With a jolt, the boy awoke. He immediately sat up and looked around cautiously.
Confusion shadowed his face as he lowered his head and muttered softly, "What just happened...?"
The boy—or more precisely, Ron—was just an ordinary teenager. Moments ago, he had been playing the Fate/Grand Order game as usual, finishing a quest. But as he was about to start the next one, something strange happened. The ceiling fan above him fell—and struck him right on the head.
That was the last thing he remembered. After that, everything became blurry. As if a thick fog had wrapped itself around his mind.
Now, when he opened his eyes again, he found himself in the body of a young boy. His hair was short, light brown—or perhaps a shade of ashen blonde. His eyes were a striking bright blue, glowing faintly under the dim light of the tent. His face looked androgynous—one could easily mistake him for either a boy or a girl at first glance.
He wore medieval-style clothing—a green tunic with dark edges, layered over a long-sleeved white shirt.
His gaze then fell on a piece of light armor placed neatly near the entrance of the tent. It looked like it had been crafted specifically for a child—perhaps more for appearance than actual combat.
Ron let out a long sigh.
"Alright..." he muttered, then slowly stood up.
His body felt light—too light—and unfamiliar. He wasn't used to this new form. He didn't know what had happened. Was this reincarnation? Transmigration? He wasn't sure. But thinking about it felt pointless. Whatever the reason, the fact remained: he was here now.
What puzzled him was why he was inside a tent like this. Not just any tent—this was a military tent, the kind usually used by knights while on campaigns to expand their kingdom.
"Just a quick peek wouldn't hurt, right?" he whispered softly.
He walked carefully to avoid making any noise. Slowly, he peeked through the flap of the tent.
Outside, stretched the vast desert. But since his view was limited, he decided to stick his head out of the tent.
What he saw left him speechless.
Rows of similar tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Among them, knights—in full Crusader armor—gathered, chatting and laughing.
He looked up. The night sky sprawled above him, filled with stars and moonlight illuminating the desert. The sight left him in awe. But that sense of wonder didn't last long.
A deep voice called out to him from afar,
"Robin! What are you doing up so late? A kid your age should be asleep!"
Ron turned quickly. A large man was approaching, his face hidden behind a knight's helmet. Ron didn't recognize him, but from the tone of his voice, it was clear—he knew Robin, or at least the owner of this body.
Robin. So that was the name of this body's owner, Ron thought. But before he could think any further, the man was already standing right in front of him.
Startled, Ron stumbled backward into his tent.
The man merely chuckled, his voice light but carrying a familiar warmth and friendly authority.
"Stop daydreaming, kiddo. You know we begin the city conquest tomorrow, right? Get some sleep—you'll need the energy."
City conquest? Ron thought, his brows furrowing slightly. Those words echoed in his mind, stirring deeper ripples of confusion. What did he mean by city conquest? Which city? But more importantly was this really the world of FGO? Or... was this just a very vivid dream?
But before he could voice the question, his mouth moved on its own.
"Shut up, Edward! And stop teasing me like I'm just a kid!"
Ron froze for a moment. That wasn't what he meant to say. Not at all. He didn't even know the man in front of him, yet somehow his tongue uttered that name—Edward—as if he'd known him for years.
Did that… come from my mouth? But… that wasn't me speaking…
This body, this voice, even the spontaneous reaction toward that man… it all felt foreign, yet strangely familiar in a disturbing way. As if he, Ron, was merely a passenger inside the body named Robin.
Meanwhile, Edward—the fully armored knight—laughed heartily, amused at Ron's reaction as he stumbled backward into his tent.
"Ha! You're still the same stubborn kid as always," he said while adjusting the armor belt strapped around his waist.
"Alright then, get some sleep. Don't wake up tomorrow with a wrinkled face. You don't want to look like a drunk chicken when meeting His Majesty, right?"
With laughter still lingering in his voice, Edward walked away, leaving Ron sitting on the tent floor, his breathing slightly heavy, his mind tangled in confusion.
Ron slowly stood up from where he had fallen, brushing the dust off his old green clothing. He stared at the open tent entrance, watching Edward's back disappear into the night, lit by the flickering torches scattered among the rows of tents.
"What's really happening to me…?" he whispered, eyes narrowing as he gazed at the night sky filled with unfamiliar stars.
One thing was certain: he was no longer Ron, the ordinary guy casually playing FGO in his world. Somehow, he was now Robin, a boy who seemed to be part of a crusader army about to conquer a city.
Ron took a deep breath, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts. He then walked deeper to his tent leaving the entrance of the tent.
Even though this body was light and agile like a youth's, his mind carried the burden of a man from another world—a regular gamer who should have been relaxing at home, not trapped in a world of swords and magic.
Once he reached the thin straw bed in the corner of the tent, Ron sat down slowly. He looked at his hands—small and lean, fingers nimble and firm, like those of an archer.
There were no wounds or scars, yet somehow, they felt like hands long accustomed to lifting a bow and drawing arrows for years.
"Robin, huh…?" he murmured softly.
That name echoed again in his mind. Was he now Robin Hood? Or just someone who happened to have the same name? And who was Edward? Why did that name slip from his lips so naturally, as if he had known him longer than anyone?
Still filled with unanswered questions, Ron lay down. The straw bed was rough and slightly noisy, but warm. he then pulled a thin blanket covered his body up to his chest.
Through the gaps of the tent, torchlight danced on the fabric walls like ghostly shadows.
The sounds of soldiers still wandering around, the faint singing of drunken warriors, and the night breeze blowing gently created a strangely peaceful atmosphere.
Ron slowly closed his eyes.
For some reason, he didn't want any of this to end.
"If this is a dream… please don't wake me up, yet."
With that thought, he finally drifted to sleep, hoping that tomorrow he would find the answers—in a world that, for some reason, felt more real with every passing second.