8: Act 3 Undead 8: Act 3 Undead “Brand, Brand?”
Roman poked his arm from the side while Sophie was immersed in checking her attributes.
He couldn’t help but curse the NPCs for having no rights, knowing that even a skeleton had 1.5 Strength.
All the attribute values were in units of Oz, shorthand for the ancient word Oauth, referred to as energy levels.
1 energy level of Strength meant being able to lift about fifty kilograms of weight, with a punching force not exceeding one hundred and fifty kilograms, roughly equivalent to the strength of an adult man.
Back in the game, players’ basic attributes were Strength of 2 energy levels, Dexterity of 2 energy levels, Constitution of 2 energy levels, with Intelligence, Will, and Perception all at 1.5 energy levels, meaning they were about twice that of an ordinary person; and Absolute Strength, also known as combat power, was around 5, indicating that dealing with five ordinary people simultaneously was no problem.
But Brand was just a militia member who had undergone a few months of training, and the attribute gap was just as significant.
Although players had a hero attribute start, it shouldn’t be this exaggerated, right?
He had always wanted to ridicule players for claiming to start as heroes, yet their combat power was only comparable to that of two skeletons.
He didn’t expect that from Brand’s perspective, he would suddenly realize that players were truly heroes enveloped in a protagonist’s aura.
Thinking that he might not even be able to defeat a single skeleton, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness.
Sophie touched his arm, the light green number mischievously remained on his retina.
He realized that this world was somewhat different from the world he was familiar with; in the game, bandages were supposed to restore 1 point of Life per minute, so a civilian’s 6 Life points should recover in just six minutes, but here it took several days.
This was not a good omen.
Fortunately, the usage of skills was basically the same.
As long as he recalled the ‘Basic Knowledge’ from being a civilian, he could remember some common knowledge about this world.
By recalling the ‘Military Organization’ from being a militia, he could recall some common-sense military structures of Erune.
Although there were some differences, this knowledge seemed to directly exist in his actual memory.
Like swordsmanship, he could clearly sense that it was a skill honed bit by bit through months of training, ingrained in his every movement.
For example, the stance during attack, where to put the focus, what to pay attention to underfoot, where his sword is—the enemy’s sword location, feints, the intent of the attack.
But in the game, the system would give a few general sword routes before you attack and then assist in correcting your moves during the attack.
Here, you didn’t need to know the reasoning, only the actions.
Even though some seasoned players had their own insights, they still relied on the system’s assistance, so you wouldn’t see a bunch of gamers become swordsmanship or fighting experts in reality.
Some things had no shortcuts.
Sophie couldn’t help but clench his hand.
The feeling of mastering himself was especially great.
Compared to the rigidness in the game, the memories he had here seemed more like they belonged to him and could be utilized at will.
Of course, while he thought about all this, Roman was poking his arm, and he immediately turned around vigilantly.
His ears twitched slightly, catching subtle sounds coming from outside the house.
“Brand, did you hear that?” Miss Merchant sneaked around behind him and whispered.
A line of clacking footsteps came from outside, and there were quite a number of them.
He was startled, immediately guessing that Madara’s army’s vanguard had arrived.
He made a small gesture for silence and quickly pulled Roman back.
Madara’s vanguard had arrived faster than he had anticipated.
At this moment, the countryside of Elson-Golan was still in deep sleep, unaware of the impending catastrophe.
The urgency of time made Sophie frown.
He led Miss Merchant into the room at the southern end, then gently closed the door behind him.
The room was filled with dust, and the two couldn’t help but cough softly—this was a guest room that had not been used for a long time, but he knew that from the window here, he could safely monitor everything happening in the manor.
Sophie walked to the window, gently brushed away the dust, and lifted the curtain—