After the information purge, finding research material became harder than it already was, and although Alex tried, he’d rarely scavenged any texts on Persian swordplay. However, he did once manage to acquire historical documents detailing the sword forms of the similarly curved Wushu broadsword. He’d never actually created one for himself—the closest thing he’d wielded was a European Sabre—but the hypothetical sword style he’d reconstructed from those texts had been part of what influenced him to try forging the Shamshir.

  Both swords, from what he could gather, had swordstyles that utilized their curves and lightness, allowing for tight rotational maneuvers of the blade around the swordsman’s head and body. Being able to wrap your fist close to your head and the sword so tight to your back, resulted in a faster, more indirect sword style that didn’t rely on the material’s strength as much as its shape; to which it utilized with a focus on controlling the opposing blade’s momentum and binding the opponent's movements. He’d forged this Shamshir with the confidence that he had the necessary experience and knowledge to use her.

  Yet, as the Undead Captain hefted a battle-axe, Alex set only one rule for himself: Forget it all.

  The Shamshir was new to him. His knowledge would only kill him faster if he tried utilizing it in the moment. Theoretics were just theoretics and for the last ten years, Alex had wielded only one sword—Lys. He prepared himself for battle. From the guard he instinctively took and the way his feet shuffled to match his opponents movements, he could already tell his body wasn’t ready to move on from her.

  “I never understood this part,” The undead spat, “Circling each other—sizing each other up, what does it even do? Every swordsman I’ve seen do it, I just cleaved in half!”

  He guffawed and pounded his chest to the whoops and cheers of onlookers.

  Truthfully, Alex hadn’t even been paying attention to him. These past many seconds he’d been taking stock of the increasing number of undead, establishing potential escape routes, and trying to place an ominous killing intent that pricked more unpleasantly than the others.

  It was another Captain undoubtedly, and while this idiot’s killing intent was pure, there was no guarantee everyone else would adhere to the premises of a duel.

  “You’re mistaken,” Alex eventually said. “I’m actually just waiting for a bigger audience to kill you in front of—”

  “RAAAAAH!!! You little shit!”

  The undead charged, Alex’s words clearly having greater effect than intended. He quickly traced the rune for luck and shifted his guard to a position that simply felt more right.

  I suppose I’ll have the blade teach me. If she’d be so inclined.

  He swung out to parry the axe—and immediately aborted the motion, leaping to the side. Lys had been an arming sword and the strong of her steel was at the base of her guard—where incidentally, the Shamshir was most brittle. As it so happened, his sword was not so inclined. She had betrayed him already.

  The undead roared in anger, and once again, Alex’s sword ignored his plea. His body yearned to receive the blow in the same spot, where she would surely shatter.

  Feather-foot

  He danced away more gracefully this time, using the well as a barrier to the undead’s relentless pursuit. His axe crashed through the well’s wooden post, collapsing the roof. Alex looked down at his feet, noticing a bit of awkwardness there. He correctly diagnosed the issue and prepared for the next assault.

  Meanwhile, the Adventurers in the crowd jeered at him.

  “Stop running you coward!”

  “Booo! Just die already!”

  “Fuck, let me hold him in place boss! I’ll—”

  “SHUT UP!!!” Alex’s opponent bellowed. “A duel is a sacred ritual! A conversation amongst men! We bleed! We sweat! We kill—and it's the purest form of expression there is! Those who sit on the sidelines will not disparage us—in fact, the next person to disrespect these codes, I’m throwing my axe at! Lay witness—for these are the final efforts of a man putting his life on the line!”

  “Damn, Gugani’s so cool…”

  “I take it back boss! You’ve inspired me!”

  “If you let Gugani down we’ll kill you some more even after you’re dead!”

  Alex ignored the rabble and re-adjusted his stance. Footwork formed the base upon which all swordsmanship was built upon. He shifted left foot back and slid his right foot up, bringing his balance forward on the balls of his feet. Where his former stance promoted stability in receiving, this stance was about fluidity and initiative. He made himself available to his sword—and now she taught—showing him diagonal arcs for her to follow where before he only saw hard angles and straight lines.

  “I see you’re finally ready to face me,” Gugani said. “I shall—”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Alex said.

  “THEN DIE!!!”

  The undead roared as he charged—his movements simplistic, yet surprisingly bare of openings. His axe poised for an overhead strike and Alex launched in with explosive, short steps to meet it. His circular footwork was made more nimble with Feather-Foot, and he saw several lateral angles of approach—all of which he ignored in favor of charging straight in like a bull to meet the axe head on in a battle of strength and guts!

  At the last second, he vanished his sword to his inventory entirely and sidestepped the behemoth, running straight past him. He heard the undead’s axe embed itself into dirt, and saw terror in the eyes of his hecklers as he resummoned his blade and swiped horizontally at the spectator’s throats.

  4 Undead Adventurers have been slain!

  +400 Essence Crystals

  Congratulations! You have reached the quota for your third reward!

  “YOU COWARD!!!!”

  Gugani screamed in rage and made good on his promise as he threw his battle-axe with the strength of an angry gorilla. Alex had been eying one of the adventurer’s he’d killed for their wooden shield, but his Perception stat was increasing by the second and he could already sense that the shield wouldn’t hold up.

  In these cases, the best shields are the ones who moved for you.

  “Die!” Someone screamed.

  A handful of undead rushed in to dogpile on Alex and he watched as they were blown to smithereens by the axe in a blizzard of bone and flesh. He surged from the chaos, his sword already thrumming with content as he lined Gugani up in her sights.

  [Pierce]

  Undead Captain Gugani has been slain!

  +500 Essence

  +10 Points

  He jerked his sword out from where she’d entered through the undead’s chin. The angling was a little awkward, and retrieving her wasted a precious second of his time. He ascertained pierce was not the correct combat skill for her unless he really needed the extra range or umph for a finishing blow.

  As soon as his sword was free, he bolted. He raised his wooden shield, adjusting it whenever his skin tingled in a place where it didn’t cover. It soon collected an array of arrows and bolts. The crowd had turned on him—as they were always going to—and the quickest to react were the archers and crossbowman.

  The second quickest were the adventurers in the crowd, and everyone else followed soon after. Farmers raised pitchforks, and mages gathered their mana. He didn’t want to stick around to see what their spells did.

  Thankfully, the weak spot Alex had created in his encirclement had not yet been sealed. He ploughed through the spot where Gugani’s axe had wreaked mayhem. He could tell from the shock in their mannerisms as they raised their weapons that they hadn’t expected him to back this way.

  Regardless, there were still two rows of undead—three adventurers, six townsfolk—and five of whom were prepared to skewer him.

  The instant he raised his sword he sensed his shield was too unwieldy for the Shamshirs tight path and he threw it at the two adventurers bunched to his left. A crossbow bolt sang for his shoulder and he side-stepped it, allowing it to hit a townswoman with a raised shovel.

  He whipped his sword out, killing the other two threats, then cleaved through all the others who hadn’t prepared themselves in the seconds that took to accomplish. Within bare moments, he stood before an alley passage squeezed between two shops.

  But just before taking it, he saw an opportunity and pivoted right.

  An undead swung a woodsman's axe amateurly for Alex’s head. He sliced through both of the undead’s arms and left him screaming on the ground. Three more undead barreled towards him and he spun his blade around his head, slicing it diagonally down in a draw cut.

  She cleaved effortlessly through bone and armor. Leather armor was pretty terrible against friction-abusing drawing cuts, and utilizing the Shamshir’s full length, Alex was able to bite through it with better efficacy than his arming sword would’ve been capable of. He continued on, inflicting lethal wounds that undead would normally walk off—but instead they writhed in slow demise.

  Another undead swung his shovel and Alex met it along the 2/3rd mark of his blade at the apex of her curve. The clang sounded just right. He dove below its trajectory, emerging on the handle side and decapitating the undead.

  Dangersense picked up five more threats. Temple. Right flank. Spine. Left ankle. Heart. He took short, explosive steps. The undead he tentatively named Temple and his companion Right Flank were aligned in his blade’s sight. Spine was easy enough to evade just by moving forward. He spun with the motion of his blade and kicked a young child with the left foot she’d been aiming to hit with her wooden stick.

  The most dangerous of those threats was the crossbowman with his heart in her sight. And a second threat that had snuck up on him---a mage, summoning tendrils of vines that snaked towards his legs. He sliced them apart and ducked forward, slamming his pommel against a bolt he couldn’t evade.

  Then he continued his onslaught. He’d noticed it during his bout—all the hardened melee adventurers had edged toward the front of the crowd. Now, they were trapped there by the frenzy of the horde and those that Alex slaughtered in his circular path around the plaza’s border were mostly untrained townsfolk, archers, crossbowmen… and pesky mages!

  He saw vines snake from an undead’s staff and he blurred past them, utilizing the lightness Feather-Foot gave his footwork. He swung his sword at the mage’s head and a shield appeared—cast by another mage just past her.

  He pulled the same trick he’d used on that Captain, disappearing his sword as she passed through the shimmering barrier, and resummoning it from his inventory to cleave through her head.

  Yet before he could reach the second mage, three new adventurers ran up from a passage to Alex’s left, swords raised in a charge. He spun with a passing step, attempting to redirect his momentum to face them. The Shamshir whirled around his head like an inverted scythe but the motion wasn’t tight enough.

  It was probably in the flick of the wrist—it required much more of a twist than he was used to and his joints had to roll with the movement. She met the adventurer’s blade diagonally—not along her edge, but not on her flat either. For once, Alex felt the drag of wind as she skidded poor steel, buckling from the weight, and although he’d stepped to the outside, her edge was misaligned with the Adventurer’s neck.

  Alex's mind burned with electric energy as he perceived many unfortunate things in that instant: The townsfolk chasing after his back were catching up and the archers and crossbowman denied a clearshot due to their circular arrangement had almost repositioned; the two adventurers were moving in slow motion to space themselves at his flank—farther than his sword could reach, and a barrier was shimmering into place so tight to Alex’s target that he couldn’t use his inventory trick this time.

  Of course, none of that mattered if he couldn’t even cut the bastard. The Shamshir’s edge alignment could be thrown off by even minor mistakes, and Alex’s Shamshir was even more unforgiving since Oslumnen was lighter than steel. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to correct the course.

  In that case…

  Alex imprinted upon his Essence with record speed. Time flowed forward and he flowed with it, his sword shattering the barrier as though pulled along by a current of friction.

  Glancing Blow

  The adventurer’s head went flying and Alex snatched his blade, swinging it down on the adventurer further down the alley. That sword was blocked but Alex sliced through him with his Shamshir—leaving his back undefended. The last adventurer, who’d positioned behind him, swung his sword faster than Alex could evade or parry.

  Then he suddenly staggered—two bolts and three arrows thudding into his back.

  “You think that’s enough to—”

  Pierce

  Alex lunged, shattering another barrier and spearing both him and the mage who cast it along his sword’s length.

  Essence has been integrated with Dexterity!

  Dexterity +2

  Essence has been integrated with Perception!

  Perception +3

  By the time he’d freed his blade again the rest of the adventurers were shoving through the crowd and he was on the brink of becoming truly encircled. Before that could happen, he turned and ran down the street, killing anything in his way. The crossbowmen and archers had reloaded and a bolt whiffed his shoulder, drawing a line of red.

  Tetanus, He thought with a shiver.

  He continued southward through the town's main and back-streets. Once he was far enough to enter Stealth, he allowed himself a short break. Then he smiled.

  Now you bastards know what it’s like to be hunted.

  6 Undead Adventurers have been slain!

  +600 Essence Crystals

  +18 Points

  21 Undead Townsfolk have been slain!

  +630 Essence Crystals

  +21 Points

  It’d now been over forty-five minutes since the Scenario had started. Alex caught his breath, exerted by how intense the last few of those minutes had been. He currently stood in the tight space between two houses, immersed in shadow—though that shadow was currently threatened by the flames that consumed the house to his back. It seemed that all hiding spots were being burnt down.

  So be it.

  It wouldn’t do to grow overconfident, but Alex didn’t feel such an intense need to hide anymore. And the undead seemed to have stopped dying to the flames.

  Whether that was because all the idiots had already killed themselves, or because he’d reappeared, he wasn’t completely certain on. Regardless, he still needed 5,000 or so Essence to reach level fifteen, and he’d already learned his lesson about betting on their intellect.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  2,000 Essence Crystals have been Consumed.

  You have leveled up!

  * * *

  Once upon a time, when no one would’ve considered him weak, Alex’s place had been on the battlefield. He’d grown accustomed to the blood, guts, and gore-slicked gravel, the shouts and cries of war—of rage, of sorrow—or of whatever else needed bleeding to keep his body moving like a well-oiled machine. Men changed on the battlefield, became different beasts, and deluged in the emotions that greased their gears so they didn’t notice the passing of their comrades or the screams of their bodies. And for Alex, as he tore through his enemies, he’d felt a feverish buzz in his bones, a burning fluidity in his movements, an electrifying crackle in his soul—he’d felt alive.

  Not all the time, mind you. He knew those who did—folks who didn’t tuck that beast away during the intermissions between bloodshed—and he considered himself normal within the shadows they cast. For him, it had to be a certain kind of fight to excite him; it had to be one he was winning. And as he arched his Shamshir blade through another scalp, he lamented how long it had been since he felt this way.

  Too long.

  A sword swung at him, and he ducked, snaking his own between a gap in the adventurer’s armor.

  Undead didn’t feel the same pain as the living, but it still screamed and clutched its arm as the undeath’s bane severed it. Then danger screamed at Alex from behind, and he rolled forward, only turning back to kick the dismembered adventurer into the path of another's sword.

  Even as the sword wedged itself into his skull, it did no damage to him. But now they were aligned in a straight shot, right in the path of his Shamshir.

  Pierce

  2 Undead Adventurers have been Cleansed!

  +200 Essence Crystals

  +6 Points

  His sword skewered them with a cold, climactic shiver, absolving them of their undead sins and sending them to whatever afterlife they deserved. Or whatever afterlife even existed. Alex considered himself an outlier on the subject.

  He ripped his weapon free unobstructed, since all twelve undead from this group now lay decaying at his feet. And he just breathed in the sight of carnage for a second, catching his breath again.

  9 Undead Adventurers have been slain!

  +900 Essence Crystals

  +3 Points

  23 Undead Townsfolk have been slain!

  +690 Essence Crystals

  Over the last few minutes, he’d hunted a few large groups like these, but he still needed about 3,000 Essence, and at least 2,450 of that had to come from his sword. He was getting closer to Level 15, but the difficulty of his task was dawning on him now. His fingers trailed across his sword’s surface, and he restrained his displeasure when they found something a hair’s breadth deeper than a mere scratch.

  Soul Link has been damaged. Health cannot be restored above 86%.

  His sword hadn’t come out unscathed. His wielding of her was improving, but figuring out what skills worked best with her was still a struggle. Pierce had obvious drawbacks, but even with them, it still provided the greatest range of the basic combat skills he knew, and he was slowly getting a sense for the angling. Glancing Blow was better suited for the Shamshir, however it was more of a situational skill rather than the kind you’d base a style around. There were a few other skills he was considering, but he had reasons to restrain himself for the moment.

  In general, combat skills weren’t something a novice swordsman should abuse. They utilized the uncapped potential of your stats for one crisp, impossible movement that transcended physical and mental limits. But that also made them difficult to ease seamlessly with more mundane movements. Too many powerful Awakened were middling swordsmen, and they often left openings before and after skill use—either because their prior movements were misaligned with the skill’s, or because their body and mind were simply unable to adjust to what their weapons just did.

  In regard to his Shamshir, Alex still considered himself a novice.

  His second problem was different in nature, but no less troublesome. He summoned a vial to his hand. Then he wiped his mouth in satisfaction and shattered the empty vial against the ground

  Mana Potion has been Consumed.

  Mana: 31%...

  32%...

  Oslumnen was hyper mana-conductive, and he’d known what he was getting into when he decided to forge a sword from the stuff without other components. Even though his control over mana flow was improving, every time he used a skill with the blade, she still sapped far more from him than he intended. Usually, he wouldn’t even be able to invest 10% or more of his mana into a skill like pierce. And while that did make it more powerful, it also became harder to control—and limited him to only basic combat skills. He was certain that if he tried using something like Energy Pierce, he’d have blown up his arm before completing the skill.

  Even basic skills could be overloaded if the mana invested was greater than Essence-pattern’s energy capacity, and at times, she seemed to be toeing that line. That wouldn’t do in the long run. But for now, he could work with her.

  46:33

  Shouts sounded off to Alex’s left and right, and he looked down both lengths of the street to find shadows flitting from torchlight. He’d stuck to picking off undead in outskirt areas the fire hadn’t affected yet, but these were strong southern winds tonight and the fire seemed to be spreading to the suburbs faster than even the main plaza.

  Not to mention, the undead had started splitting into larger and larger groups. As they rounded on the street where Alex had just been, he counted almost fifty. He watched from the safety of one of the hou—

  Alex slapped his neck when he felt the slightest tickle. A mosquito?

  No, it was his dangersense. Had one of the undead from this group spotted him through the window? He quickly faded into Stealth, and the feeling faded. In anycase, he’d spotted a smaller group of about fifteen or so undead that were still attempting to combat the fire a little farther north. If the undead chasing after him were appearing in greater numbers, he just had to hunt the ones that weren’t.

  * * *

  Less than a minute later, Alex looked up to find himself fully surrounded. The path he’d seen earlier had been collapsed on by burning rubble. There were less undead than during his first encirclement, but he deemed the situation far more dire. All of them appeared ready and coordinated, and far more of them were adventurers. His reaction time and dangersense had allowed him to fend off his attackers thus far, but as he spotted archers and mages roosting on the top floors of burning buildings on both sides of the street, he knew this couldn’t go on.

  Evidently, he wasn’t the only one who’d thought so. Turning, he lashed out at the sound of footsteps, and his blade came away with a townsman’s head balanced neatly on the end.

  He flung it at another undead, and the farmer raised his pitchfork on reflex, catching the gift on the spikes. Though, that just freed up his body for Alex to slice through. He gleefully did, then leapt behind the man and into the mayhem.

  He was in the heat of the battlefield now. There may not have been as many enemies, but they were spaced far better—and threats jolted his senses from several directions. Tetanus became the least of his worries as a pike ripped a gash in his side. He’d only let it because it seemed preferable to the sword swinging to take his head off and the shovel about to hammer down on his spine.

  As the pike ripped past his armor, he yanked it with his left hand and jutted the tip into the swordsman. He jutted the staff end back into the pike’s wielder as he pulled a dagger, and swung his shamshir through the shovel-man and a few other threats—all while moving forward. Immediately, he had to react to several new threats, but moving forward was the key. The most dangerous thing about an undead horde was that it was a horde, and the moment his feet stopped dancing, it would be his end.

  Thankfully, his encirclement had a weak spot where there were fewer adventurers, and as soon as Alex breached the sixth layer and reached the street's edge, he kicked in the door to one of the houses. Just as he was about to enter it, he felt the pulse of mana and a killing intent aimed at his head.

  Dodge, block, slice, run—there were too many responses one could take to a magic projectile, and the correct one depended on what type of magic being hurled. But Alex’s senses weren’t fast enough on the upkeep to determine that, so he just went with the safest of the options.

  He grabbed the wailing undead and hefted him up. Acid splashed against his face and body, melting him.

  Guess that was the right call.

  Deciding not to wait for another shot to come his way, Alex entered the building and left the streets behind. It was at that moment that he felt the electricity leave his veins. and his Charged state ended.

  Essence has been integrated with Dexterity!

  Dexterity +2

  Essence has been integrated with Perception!

  Perception +1

  For now, Alex ignored his notifications and analyzed the situation.

  Everywhere he looked, wood crackled and split under an orange blaze. The fire burned thicker inside the building, inching uncomfortably close to where he stood. Yet, a slight, flickering gap in the flames was still near the back door. Just enough for a person to dart through unscathed, if they were fast and nimble enough.

  Alex glanced back at the door he had entered. As expected, nobody followed him in. Why would they? Either he would burn to death here or escape through the back door, where more undead would surely be waiting.

  Alex slapped his neck. He felt that light, tickling sensation on his again—and recognized it this time. It was the killing intent of the other Captain he’d sensed during his duel. The passiveness of it suddenly unnerved him.

  Did I just stumble upon that blockade, or was I led here?

  He thought back over his actions leading up to this moment. Now that he considered it, there had been a few conveniences along his chosen path. Nothing obvious, of course—no bait dangling from a hook or any suspicious openings. But he felt it now; a string subtly pulling him forward, silently tightening around his neck.

  These undead were too coordinated to be acting without leadership, and this captain was quieter. More calculating. And far more dangerous. Alex had been well and truly outmaneuvered.

  So much for not growing overconfident…

  His gaze moved away from the door to the burning staircase. He grimaced, knowing what he had to do. Then he summoned a thin sheet to wrap around his head, dumped a well-bucket’s worth of water over himself, and rushed up the staircases.

  Heat scraped his sides, and one step nearly collapsed under his boot, but he reached the top intact—or close enough. A section of his pants caught fire, searing his thigh badly. He had to waste more water putting it out.

  But there was no time to stop. As soon as he reached the top, he clambered through the window, vanishing into the shadows as he heaved himself onto the roof.

  The roof offered little respite; flames licked angrily even at the outer ledges. He wisely used his off hand to pull himself up, charring it in the process. But the next building was close—and only beginning to catch fire. He jumped, landing as lightly as he could with Feather-foot at its first tier.

  Crouching low, Alex listened for sounds. Undead didn’t breathe, but the twine of their bows still made a faint, tight sound when pulled taut. Their bony feet scraped against the ground when they shuffled in place. Their clothes still rustled.

  He moved carefully, burning his hand some more as he broke through the third lateral window. The lone adventurer inside fell silently to his blade, and he eased his body down silently. From the vantage point he’d secured, Alex confirmed his suspicions: a particularly nasty ambush would’ve awaited him at the back door. He’d’ve died there.

  But the other undead in this building and in the one across the street were too fixed on where he should’ve been to notice his shadow flitting between third-floor windows. He’d had little time to loot his kills this night, but he quickly tore free the undead’s shirt before slipping into the next room and dispatching the pair stationed there just as efficiently.

  The last room held four, but they were preoccupied and intensely focused. His stealth became all the more effective with his heightened dexterity, and they crumpled without a sound.

  [Stealth] is now Level 17!

  Progress towards Apprentice Rank: 85%

  7 adventurers have been cleansed!

  +700 Essence Crystals

  +21 Points

  Alex ignored the point tally. He’d already breezed past the last two rewards long ago, and he knew both what skill he wanted, and which quest he planned to pick. Neither would help him in this Scenario, and he would get neither of them if he died here.

  Alex steadied the shake in his burnt hand and sighed. It’d been less than a minute since he’d entered that burning building, and everything now depended on decisive action. Urgency.

  One of the fallen adventurers had been an archer. Alex grabbed one of their arrows and tore a strip of cloth from the clothes he’d taken off that undead, winding it tightly around the arrowhead’s base. He doused it in canola oil from his inventory, knocked it on the bow, and steadied his aim.

  Then he waited.

  No, he watched, identifying with the shiver in his spine. This captain values their anonymity. But if I were orchestrating an ambush, I’d want to see all my pieces.

  Sticking to the shadows, he looked across the street and searched the windows. There were six buildings with adequate viewing angles of the one that he’d entered, thirteen windows, seventeen identifiable figures.

  It’s been over a minute now since the rat entered its entrapment. I’d start getting suspicious right about now. The smoke shouldn’t be survivable for a breathing creature. Has it decided to just die there after how hard it worked to escape?

  Unlikely.

  The fire was encroaching on Alex’s position now, and he only had to reach over and tap the arrowhead against the wall to light it. He watched those seventeen figures. Their eyeless sockets didn’t shift or give away their intent, but human undead were dull to their sense of touch and couldn’t be as physically aware of all their reactions. Even well-trained ones betrayed hints of intent—in the slightest tilt of their head, in the odd sway of their shoulders.

  Then if the rat isn’t dead, where did it go?

  One of the mages had been looking down at the ambush grounds like all the others until she suddenly tilted her head up, as if searching for something hidden in the blaze. Then she searched the roof before her eyes darted sideways.

  Alex was a rusty shot, but when her gaze landed on him, his arrow hit true, and the mage caught fire.

  Undead Captain Alexandria has been slain!

  +500 Essence

  +10 Points

  That was much more trouble than it was worth, Alex thought. And once again, he’d been forced to use a weapon other than his sword. His sword seemed rather understanding of it this time, but his mind panicked. He was getting dangerously close to the cut off for his class requirements.

  Curse my fate. Curse it. Fuck…

  He wanted to do the math right then and there, but smoke was starting to fill the room, so he quickly doused himself with more water and escaped beneath a collapsing entrance. He watched in concern to make sure all the other undead had made it out okay, and sighed in relief when no others died in the flames.

  He limped away, suddenly feeling very, very pathetic. Here he was—a man who’d lived through the apocalypse—who now licked his wounds, evading mere townsfolk and low-level adventurers. He was doing well, he knew that. But anyone else with his advantages would be doing better.

  He’d set the damn place on fire, meddled needlessly with the survivors, and probably ruined his chance at attaining the Blacksmith-Warrior Class while he was at it. Not to mention the boss…

  Alex’s performance was passable perhaps, but he knew that all the rankers he’d never matched up to were tackling the bosses. He would never catch up like this. They already eclipsed him, and the second Scenario was where the gap between the weak and the already strong began to widen even more.

  49:45

  It’s really only been fifty minutes, huh… then I guess in ten minutes the point rewards will be annulled…

  Alex frowned when he found himself aimlessly walking past the burnt manor, towards the Guild Hall. The only reward he hadn’t gotten yet was the one for killing Lionheart.

  Ah, right… he remembered now. There’d been ten guards stationed by the Guild Hall’s exit—serving as a punitive measure for boss-battle deserters, and a trial for challengers coming by the front entrance. The undead at their head had been another Captain.

  They hadn’t budged the entire night, but he was the last Captain above-ground and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t take command of the horde once the Challenge hour ended. Eliminating him was just the correct move for Alex’s self preservation.

  The sum of their Essence would also tip him over to Level fifteen, bringing the Essence earned through his sword barely above the 50% threshold for his Class requirement.

  If majority doesn’t mean majority, I swear I’m going to raze this town to the ground.

  Afterall, he the only one still alive to worry about—

  Alex clutched his ears as an ear-splitting scream echoed through the plaza.

  No, not a scream. It was Howl.

  Alex picked up his pace. Soon, after the first one, another Howl was unleashed.

  And it didn’t stop. It just kept growing in power—echoing all through the town. The skill held all the depth Alex had sensed when he’d first heard it, but this time it was so much more. There was something deeper there that shook his soul to his very core, and he realized once again that his wildest suspicions about Jun were true.

  Moreover…the man was alive?! What the hell was he doing all this ti—no, that wasn’t important. If he was fighting the boss—if Alex wasn’t alone, maybe he could—

  He quickly cut that thought loose, stamping out his hope with cold practicality. Along with the fire that caught on the sole of his boot when he’d stepped on a wooden plank in his rush. He stamped that out as well.

  If the fight wasn’t over already, it would be soon. Alex sensed a certain desperation to the Howl that grew stronger the longer it went on. He walked past the plaza well, eying the adventurers that stood guard by the Guild Hall entrance. Whatever cards were still at play inside there, wouldn’t be by the time Alex made it in. For better or for worse, the pot had settled. It was too late for him to raise his bets now.

  He ground his jaw, whipping his Shamshir out to the side he approached. The Captain addressed him with a nod and his main all raised arms. Even with bandaged wounds, this was already risky enough. These men were all Adventurers and would not be distracted, nor lured to a trap. There was no angle for an ambush and no chaos to take advantage of. Plus…

  Soul Link has been damaged. Health cannot be restored past 81%.

  Alex signed the rune for luck, setting a hard limit for himself. If his Soul Link or his own Health dipped below 70%, then he would abandon the fight and continue what he started in the morning.

  So long as he lived to see another sunrise, more opportunities would come.

  * * *

  Jun opened his eyes to a damp, dim-lighted sight. Blood lined the walls of the Guild Hall. The flooring was littered with scattered cups and dinnerware. Tables and chairs were flipped every which way, and when he tried to move, he realized that none of his limbs were responding. There were sounds of fighting outside, and further underground in the catacomb, he heard a ritualistic chant rising in pitch, almost like… singing?

  How am I still alive? He tried to move again, but every muscle in his body was beyond sore.

  “Well, look who’s livening up,” The Guildmaster said.

  He walked up to Jun. Unlike the other undead, Guildmaster Lionheart was a pure skeleton. His sword was large and sheathed on his back, and now that his flesh had melted away, his bones seemed thicker and more intimidating on his huge frame.

  He looked out through the front doors. “Hm… looks like it's all burning down…”

  His voice was just as smooth and charismatic as it had been during his speech, but now there was a melancholy to it that wasn’t there before. Jun looked where his gaze led and for the first time, noticed the flickering orange lights out there and the smell of smoke.

  Then he noticed the corpses and remembered everything.

  “Why…haven’t you killed me?”

  The guildmaster knelt, laughing as he met Jun’s eyes with his empty sockets. Only, they didn’t seem so empty anymore now that Jun was seeing them closely.

  “Young man, I’m not so heartless as I seem,” Lionheart chided. “Though, I understand the assumption, seeing as how I butchered all your friends. Now as for why I haven’t killed you…”

  He scratched his head, befuddled for a moment.

  “Ah, right! You impressed me, you know? That’s why I would like to offer you a choice.”