I Became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire

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Becoming the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire 1-213 End

# Chapter 1. I Must Become the Sultan.

A spacious room that could easily fit dozens of people.

The walls and floor were adorned with marble and gold, and the furniture and bed displayed a craftsman’s touch.

The boy sitting up from a quilt embroidered with golden threads clutched his throbbing head.

“I’m insane.”

The scene before him was hard to accept for a modern person who had sat in front of a computer just yesterday.

He had found himself in the body of a young boy who should be too young for middle school syndrome, waking up in a palace that could only be seen on a European trip.

But the biggest problem was that this scenery felt strangely familiar.

It was a sight he had seen countless times beyond the monitor until yesterday.

“…Why is it in this game of all places?”

“The Sultan, Rule the World.” That was the title of this game.

Just as the name suggested, it was a game where one became the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, conquering lands and commanding the world.

However, that was only if one could actually ascend to the Sultanate.

This insane game made the first step of becoming a Sultan incredibly difficult.

The protagonist always started with minimal succession rights, needing to survive numerous assassinations and schemes.

Even a death would merely elicit a nonchalant remark from his father, the Sultan, like, “Hmm, died sooner than expected.”

The difficulty level was absurd.

“How could such renowned gamers be at it for ages without a single one becoming Sultan?”

Even global YouTubers and streamers clamored to profit from the fame and glory, and yet this was the result.

He himself had attempted it over 400 times as a true gamer.

“I would’ve preferred if it was just a dream caused by gaming addiction.”

Yet, the body of the owner was filled with excruciating pain alongside vivid memories.

There’s a limit to imagining things, and with memories of Arabic letters squirming in his head, there was no way this was just a dream.

While he grappled with the jumbled memories, a knock sounded in his ears.

– Prince Yusuf, have you coughed?

“Come in.”

His voice had an awkward pitch just before puberty, but the commanding tone came out naturally.

To the owner of the body, this place was home, but to him, it felt like the Demon Suppression Hall.

Even if the individual was a servant, he could not show any weakness.

A maid entered carefully, holding a small tray.

“What is it?”

“It’s medicine.”

“Medicine?”

Yusuf tilted his head for a moment, but as a memory suddenly surfaced, his brow furrowed.

It wasn’t long ago, so digging that memory out wasn’t difficult.

“Damn it, circumcision.”

It was a religious circumcision surgery.

No wonder it hurt.

He wasn’t a kid who got tricked into circumcision due to chicken, nor was it done at a magnificent festival—he had undergone it without anesthesia.

To think positively, at least he had avoided a second round of circumcision.

“Prince?”

Had he been pondering too long? The maid called again.

After glancing at the dubious herbal medicine on the tray for a moment, Yusuf stated firmly.

“I don’t need the medicine.”

“It may be of use, but you really must take it for your health.”

He’d consumed enough to satisfy the insides, so he wouldn’t throw a tantrum over a bitter medicine.

As he closed his eyes, if he was indeed inside a game, he had to be cautious even with cold water.

There’s a statistic stating that 95% of beginners die in the early stages, and 60% quit the game altogether.

There was no way he was eating that suspicious medicine.

“I know my body best. I said I don’t need it.”

“Understood, my lord.”

As he watched the retreating maid, a translucent window appeared in his vision.

[Poison Avoidance, Points +2]

So it starts with a trick, huh?

He couldn’t even be pleased that his choice was right.

Had he taken that medicine, he would’ve become a dead boy from complications due to unsanitary circumcision, with not a single letter of his name in historical records.

Even if he made a commotion to find the source of the poisoning now, he’d just shorten his own lifespan without any actual leads.

Yusuf lightly slapped his cheeks.

“This isn’t the time to space out.”

Unlike a novel, he had no time to wallow in self-pity over why he was stuck in such a situation.

In the end, those who did that were deceivers.

Such concerns were only luxuries; given that he had just died and come back, adapting to reality was quicker than getting into a coffin.

He had to engage in productive actions instead of shoving his head into worries about how he ended up in a game and how to return.

“If I want to avoid dying immediately, I need to grasp the current era.”

The Ottoman Empire can be generally divided into two periods regarding the succession of the Sultan.

The “Survival of the Fittest” era and the “Eldest Son Preference” era.

The Turks, the root of the Sultanate, were originally a nomadic tribe from the Gokturk, and survival of the fittest was normal for them.

In this period, the prince’s fate was either succession or death.

Later, the law known as the Kanunname legalized the fratricide, allowing the Sultan to assassinate his cousins.

In the Eldest Son Preference era, was it peaceful? Not at all; their roots never change.

Fortunately, males in the royal family who didn’t become Sultan could at least survive.

However, they would be trapped in a Kafes, which means “cage” in Turkish, living like fools.

Like a golden prison, as long as they had no children, they could have relations with women and eat, but being forced to live in a corner for life wouldn’t bring happiness.

“Damn it, but a cage is still better.”

Whether one had a short life or not, if the Sultan decided, they could meet Allah instantly. However, the chance of surviving was higher for the latter.

With luck, they could become someone like Mustafa I, who attained the Sultanate due to a mental illness.

After racking his brain and trying to recall memories, he realized his luck was awful.

“Why does it have to be Bayezid II as the Sultan right now?”

While the name may not ring a bell, the former Sultan was Mehmet II.

He was the very one who captured Constantinople and annihilated Eastern Rome, and he was the one who enacted the fratricide law under the pretext of maintaining the world’s order.

So what does that mean? The fratricide law was still very much in effect.

“If I get caught now, I’m in for a rough time.”

But surprisingly, that wasn’t the worst part.

Bayezid II was born in 1447, while Yusuf’s birth year of 1489 was an untimely one not found in original history.

In the original timeline, before the Sultan began to weaken due to major earthquakes in 1509, at least four princes had survived, and currently, seven out of eight sons were alive.

Including himself, who just popped up, that meant there were eight of them, and he had to fight against his older, not much older brothers.

“How can an 11-year-old brat possibly become Sultan in this situation? No, let’s think positively.”

To endure a game lacking dreams and hope for over 400 rounds, a positive mindset was a must.

At this time, both East and West Asia counted age as the year of birth, meaning he would be one year old upon birth.

Since he was 11 now, it was 1499, nearly at the end of the 15th century, and Bayezid II would die in 1512.

There were still 13 years left, and there was plenty of time to make a name for himself before the current Sultan faded.

‘Surviving up to that point will be the biggest challenge, but the time is indeed adequate.’

To become Sultan by pushing out the established princes would require overwhelming achievements, but they would have more than enough opportunity to arise.

Yusuf finally got out of bed.

Using his tiny hands, he moved his limbs lightly and examined his body.

Except for the pain from the circumcision, he was entirely fine, and being an 11-year-old meant that the lower viewpoint was just a mild annoyance, not a pressing issue.

“Next, I should check this…”

Closing his eyes revealed a blinking icon, an interface he was quite familiar with from games.

Thankfully, activating the icons just required a thought, and three windows popped up.

[Talent] [Traits] [Shop]

All three were game systems.

Traits required accumulating points in the shop, but with just 2 points, he couldn’t even buy the first trait.

Moreover, even though they were traits, they were in a historical game, not a fantasy game, limiting their scope.

In the end, what gamers value most is talent.

Name: Şehzade Yusuf

Physique – 3

Intelligence – 3

Charm – 3

Luck – 3

Remaining stat points – 10

Regardless of time and place, the easiest and most accurate way to know another’s status is through their name during introduction.

If there’s a surname, just hearing the name would indicate which noble house they belong to, but the Ottoman Empire was a land without surnames.

The bigger issue was that names used in the Islamic world were extremely limited.

There’s an Arabic proverb stating, “If you call Abdullah in Baghdad, a thousand Abdullahs will respond,” which is an exaggeration—Muhammad makes up almost half.

Ultimately, those in high positions figured out a way to attach titles to names, with “Şehzade” meaning prince in a similar context.

Putting that aside, distributing the stats beneath the name was very important.

‘Talent scores generally shouldn’t be adjusted.’

How one allocated points to abilities would massively change the character’s fate.

From a general level of 3, they could rise to a maximum of 10, with distinct advantages and disadvantages for each talent.

Firstly, for physique, a score of 10 would amount to something like Lu Bu’s talent.

Given his exceptional martial skills, he could easily gain favor with the Janissaries or the primary cavalry corps, Sipahi.

Since acquiring the Sultanate wouldn’t come from slapping a card, military prowess was essential.

‘When was Lu Bu even Lu Bu?’

Lu Bu was revered as a god of war over 1300 years ago.

By this point, Janissaries had been using firearms for quite half a century.

More accurately, it was more like small artillery known as hand cannons, but even if Lu Bu himself showed up, the time of alone slaughtering enemies was long gone.

Still, gaining the goodwill of a military force alone was a good enough ability.

Next was intelligence, and a score of 10 would mean someone on the level of Zhuge Liang who fell into the Ottomans.

Honestly, since he had never lived intelligently himself, he had no clue how that would be applied, but in games, he was good at administration and crafting strategies alone.

High intelligence meant it would be easy to earn the favor of officials, including the Grand Vizier.

‘Charm is… well, no chance for that.’

Charm, of course, was a excellent stat. Hitting 10 would make a man like Liu Bei and a woman like Casanova.

He’d lead people around like the Pied Piper and could reproduce fascism hundreds of years ahead.

‘But it’s the perfect recipe to get stabbed while crossing the street.’

The kinds of women shouting, “I’ll smash you if it’s unrequited love!” or men crying, “Return my wife!” would stab his abdomen.

That wasn’t speculation; it was a certainty.

Even if he avoided a hundred stabbings, one would inevitably land, and every worldwide player ended up with similar fates.

Lastly, luck, it would fortify the character’s lifeline against misfortune that would cause them to break their nose just from falling backward.

It would lead to arrows missing due to a cough or accidentally spilling a poison-filled cup.

There were many cases of surviving through sheer luck.

‘Now, I need to pick which of these four abilities to enhance…’

Distributing them evenly would just lead to a mediocre character, so the answer was to dump it into one stat, and fortunately, worldwide players had come to a collective conclusion.

Yusuf boldly raised his luck.

Allocating all his points like that meant he was bound to do one essential action.

“Luck, grant me even just another day to live.”

Desperately pleading, Yusuf composed his mind.

Now, all that was left was to transition from a transient prince to the Sultan.