Arthur lives with his father, a fallen but proud former noble, in Border Village #49, along with the other good folks condemned to toil in service to the Baron. But Arthur has an edge: a stolen heart card that secretly fell into his possession, thanks to a dragon. It’s a priceless source of power for the Baron and the tyrant will kill to get it back. Invaluable, too, to a young man of spellcasting ambitions.

Jin Rou wanted to be a cultivator. A man powerful enough to defy the heavens. A master of martial arts. A lord of spiritual power. Unfortunately for him, he died, and now I’m stuck in his body. Arrogant Masters? Heavenly Tribulations? All that violence and bloodshed? Yeah, no thanks. I’m getting out of here. Farm life sounds pretty great. Tilling a field by hand is fun when you’ve got the strength of ten men—though maybe I shouldn’t have fed those Spirit Herbs to my pet rooster.

In a blink, I found myself in an unknown land, greeted by the textbox of an unfriendly system. It wanted me to become a great hero, save the world, win the love of the people and all that crap. But this new world already had a hero. Why should I bust my ass and deal with dragons and the unknown for people I didn't know? Let him deal with that. It's his job! So instead of being tempted by the system's nonsense, I chose a simple class. Potion maker. I wasn't interested in cultivating mana and defying the heavens, courting death, none of that crap.

Dungeons suddnly popped up across the planet, summoning invaders and monsters from alternate realities. Ancient gods slumbering beneath the Earth were woken. And all humans were empowered with Levels and Classes gained by, among other things, killing monsters and other humans.

Accidentally murdered by a cleric in another universe during a botched resurrection, Arnold, a semi-pro gamer, wakes upon an altar to find himself incarnated into the overweight body of a farmer who could have been his fatter twin. He’s not the hero. He’s not the villain. He’s certainly not the chosen one who is there to save the world. He’s a clerical error. It could be a bad joke, but apparently, it happens so often that they have a standard procedure for returning you.