1: Prologue Monologue 1: Prologue Monologue The Sergeant from the Civilian Militia Training Team didn’t lie to me; essential experience can save your life at critical moments.
If it weren’t for the training over the past month, I probably wouldn’t have been able to avoid that deadly sword in my sleep—the sudden attack triggered lightning-fast alertness, pulling me out of a deep dream; when I opened my eyes, I saw that sharp longsword, a piercing chill rising from the depths of my soul—
Honestly, I don’t know how I reacted at that moment.
Perhaps it was an instinct formed through long training; at the critical moment, I turned my head, causing the sword to pierce downward, barely grazing my ear.
At that critical moment—
Then I saw the Fine Steel Longsword, gleaming with cold light, with the emblem of the Black Rose from Bulomando, embedded in a square iron plate.
It took me a moment to recognize it, “Madara’s Undead Army!” It was like a bucket of cold water poured over me, waking me completely—damn it, how did these ghosts get here?
I clearly remember being on vacation at an old estate in the Buqi countryside left by my grandfather.
I had sought approval from the elders and temporarily stayed to manage this old house.
My mother is a Catedrago; this is probably the closest noble bloodline that I possess.
However, my father is just an ordinary Mill Master—not even like my grandfather, who participated in the famous November War and received the Candlelight Medal—he was just a simple middle-aged man.
As for me, I am an ordinary young man from the Kingdom, with the greatest dream of joining the army or going on an adventure to earn a large family fortune.
Perhaps in the end finding a beautiful and charming wife to spend the rest of my life with would be perfect!
But let’s set aside such idle thoughts; the fact that a terrifying Undead is now standing by my bed trying to kill me makes my heart a messy tangle.
Fortunately, the things the instructors taught still linger in my mind, not lost in the chaotic thoughts.
I suddenly remembered that my Sword should be by the bed, but that skeleton won’t give me room to grab it—now I realize this is not a good habit; next time I must remember to put it under my pillow.
Of course, these thoughts only existed in my mind for an instant.
Instinctively, I plunged outward, rolling off the bed while pulling the bone skeleton standing by my bed to the ground.
At this moment, I remembered every word the instructor said in the first practical combat class:
Remember, these low-level soldiers of Madara are driven purely by Soul Fire; they move slowly, lack wisdom, and their Strength is weak—
But I didn’t have time to ponder this; a tremendous force surged from beneath me, as if I was pressing not a skeleton but a bull.
In short, an overwhelming force lifted me and threw me against a cabinet.
I heard my bones and the cabinet groaning together, resonating in my body with intense pain that made me clench my teeth.
However, I quickly shook off the dizziness because I still remembered my tasks.
In my shaky vision, the skeleton had already stood up, reaching for its sword embedded in the bed.
Its movements were indeed stiff, but could this Strength really be considered weak?
I was about to turn and run because that ‘thing’ had pulled out the sword, transforming back into a dangerous entity.
As for me, I knew my Strength wasn’t any match for it—not even with three of me—crucially, I didn’t have any Weapon—
My Sword happened to be blocked by it, though I believe this was just a coincidence because skeletons lack wisdom.
I scrambled to the door, cursing my luck—because I saw the door downstairs had been knocked open, moonlight spilling in, which would have been poetic if not for the white skeletal frame it illuminated.
I noticed this low-level existence from Madara had just walked in—holding another Fine Steel Longsword, dressed in Madara’s standard chain armor, and wearing a dark helmet.
But what depressed me most was that it lifted its head, locking me with burning crimson flames in its hollow eye sockets.