Chapter 18 – The Battle Begins

Undead possess souls – green soul flames burn within their skeletal skulls, with flecks of emerald light visible through the cranial fissures. This is their only weakness. Only by shattering an undead’s soul can it be truly destroyed. Otherwise, even if you grind its bones to dust or burn them to ashes, you merely render it incapacitated and immobile.

A skeleton’s soul isn’t its original living soul. When a life perishes, its soul is either claimed by deities or consumed by the River of Fate. Without external intervention, it’s nearly impossible for a soul to remain within its vessel. Thus, undead souls are entirely new entities born from erosion by death energy, their spiritual hierarchy scarcely higher than that of rats or rabbits. Consequently, most undead lack intelligence, wandering aimlessly day and night driven by instinct. Since a professional’s power stems entirely from the soul, even if an undead’s vessel belonged to a powerful professional in life, the undead inherits neither their strength nor career level.

For combat professionals who temper both soul and body simultaneously, the inheriting undead might retain two or three career levels as “legacy.” But for mages who specialize in soul refinement, the undead inheriting their vessels would experience drastic power reduction, potentially retaining almost nothing.

Among the undead wandering the grove, about five stood out with conspicuously ornate “attire.” Despite grime and damage, their armor and weapons bore faintly glowing runes emitting subtle magical fluctuations. Their eye sockets blazed with soul flames like vivid green lanterns, radiating ferocious authority distinct from the dullness of other undead. These moved like silent predators patrolling their territory, their passage instinctively clearing paths through lesser undead.

Soon, the System’s analysis emerged: these undead actually possessed warrior levels – the lowest at second level! The highest at fourth! This indicated they’d been at least Apprentice-Level warriors in life!

Near the grove’s center, Punk even spotted figures clad in Mage Robes, suggesting this mysterious Kamosi army had included battle mages!

Punk’s expression grew nuanced. A squad with multiple Apprentice-Level experts could single-handedly turn the tide in ordinary warfare. For a minor Kingdom like Kamosi, these would represent the absolute elite – “treasured like fragile jewels held in trembling hands.” Yet inexplicably, such elites had been wiped out in this insignificant Wasteland. Whoever believed this wasn’t tied to major events would be a fool.

But Punk cared little for these convoluted mysteries. His focus remained on the wandering corpses themselves – or more precisely, the equipment adorning their bony frames. Those faintly luminous armors and weapons still emitted weak magical fluctuations despite prolonged corruption by death energy. Such magically resonant gear qualified as Magic Equipment regardless of defilement. Even dismantled for materials, they’d fetch two to three hundred Gold Coins. And moreover…Punk gazed at the two robed skeletons wandering deep within the forest, instinctively stroking his smooth chin. After all, there might lie the entire fortune of an Apprentice-Level expert…

In the end, Punk decided to explore this woodland. No matter how powerful these skeletons might have been in life, they were now merely mindless Apprentice Rank bones. With his two Apprentice-Level equipment pieces, he was confident he could divide and conquer them. Moreover, Punk’s keen perception and analytical abilities detected no hidden dangers. So why hesitate when faced with such readily available wealth? Though Punk disliked taking risks, that didn’t mean he would let a golden opportunity slip away!

“And besides… I have an overly enthusiastic helper, don’t I?” Punk glanced sideways, his lips curling into a cold smirk.

Not far from the Undead Forest, the female cleric had already taken out a gem-encrusted circular emblem and was preparing for battle!

“Miss Cleric, though we’ve had some minor misunderstandings along the way, now that we face a common evil enemy, I believe we have reason to join forces.” Punk performed a noble salute toward the cleric, speaking in an almost monotone voice. This cleric was lower level than himself and lacked decent equipment – if she truly wished to “purify evil,” she would certainly consider his proposal.

The cleric seemed momentarily stunned, furrowing her brow with evident hesitation. Ultimately, when faced with the choice between “fighting alone after rejecting the detestable mage” and “joining forces to purify evil,” she chose the latter. She then adopted an expression of profound grievance, loudly enough for Punk to hear, confessing to the Lord of the Dawn the sin of cooperating with a mage while simultaneously disparaging mages with all her might and tearfully praying for divine forgiveness.

Though Punk understood this was the cleric’s way of compromising, he grew increasingly irritated, nearly tempted to cast a Harm Spell and send her to meet that so-called Lord of Dawn. Finally, Punk simply ignored the religious fanatic’s ramblings and began calmly preparing his spells!

First, a Minor Catapult shot toward the nearest Level 3 Apprentice skeleton warrior holding a longsword. The dreamlike incantation whispered into existence before fading away, followed by the Minor Catapult streaking through the air like a flash of light, accurately targeting the undead’s head. The kinetic-energy-imbued stone was about to smash into the skeleton’s eye socket and extinguish the vigorously burning soul flame when, at the critical moment, the sword-wielding skeleton swiftly tilted its head aside using muscle memory from its lifetime, causing Punk’s spell to miss.

The suddenly attacked undead tilted its head in momentary confusion before its soul flame blazed intensely, emerald green flames even licking up to its brow bone. It opened its jaw to nearly dislocating proportions, unleashing a soundless roar toward Punk – it had been enraged.Meanwhile, the female priest was not to be outdone. She lowered her head, pressed the circular emblem close to her chest, and as her ethereal yet resolute prayers grew increasingly resonant, a magnificent golden warhammer illusion materialized above the helmeted second-tier skeleton warrior. Within mere seconds, it solidified into an indistinguishable replica of a real warhammer.

The warhammer descended with lightning speed, wreathed in blazing golden flames as it struck the skeleton’s skull. The once-imposing helmet instantly cracked, and holy golden fire seeped through the gaps in the gray-flecked armor, sizzling as it scorched the skull within.

The undead contorted in agony, every joint twisting as its bones groaned and rattled. Yet, these remains had once belonged to an Apprentice-Level powerhouse. The exceptional elemental resistance of an Apprentice-Level warrior allowed it to endure the blow.

Though its helmet was shattered and the soul-fire in its eye sockets dimmed slightly, the undead charged toward the female priest in a furious rage! As it ran, clouds of ashen, loose dust billowed around it.

At the same time, provoked by Punk, another undead launched a Charge at him. A murky, deathly aura coiled around its rusted longsword, while tendrils of gray mist seeped from the gaps in its armor and drifted away. Faint, sickly green glimmers began to swirl across the creature’s originally dull, pale bones.

Punk, having activated his Minor Deflection Field, stood ready. His deep blue-glowing eyes fixed on the skeleton warrior, which had already covered over three meters in a single stride, longsword in hand. Parting his lips slightly, he murmured in a haunting tone:

“The show begins, darling!”

(End of Chapter)