GoldbeardThelordofSMUT

TCOB: CHAPTER THREE( Arc 2)

The Young Lady

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

The next day.

A light breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the clarion call of a falcon on the hunt. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow on the path ahead. The air was fragrant with the scent of pine as birds flitted through the trees, silent in their quest to seek refuge amongst ripened leaves.

The tranquillity of this pastoral scene was punctuated only by the capricious clatter of hooves and the muted clinking of armour. Anastasia rode up front, ahead of her entourage. Behind her was a long procession of draft animals and porters, as well as a few extra knights to ensure she didn't try to shirk her duties and run off with some low-life rascal or some other nonsense like that.

The girl shifted on her mount, wincing as her backside protested. She didn't enjoy riding. Or even leaving her father's castle at all; for good reason. It's been just a few hours and her rear was already sore; her thighs and knees burning with each step her mount took upon the dirt path, leading her away from the only home she had ever known.

Anastasia wore her favourite sky-blue gown today; Molly, her lady-in-waiting, had insisted she wore it, citing how important it was to dress up for such a momentous event. The overly excitable woman had long forgotten Anastasia's induction into the Royal Academy would not begin until she arrived on campus. And with the closest portal being nearly a day away, by the time they got there, Anastasia would need a bath, meaning the dress would need to be replaced with a fresh one.

Out of petty spite, the young lady elected not to inform her friend about this.

And so, a pair of pearl earrings adorned her ears, and a thin gold necklace with a polished mana shard pendant hung from her neck. Her hair had been intricately tied into a bun and her fingers were wrapped in fine lace gloves, and her face was perfectly made up, the very image of a proper young lady.

Gods willing, Molly would have to redo everything to be just as impeccable the following morning.

Anastasia's thoughts returned to her home; oh, how she loathed to leave it behind.

Why couldn't she continue to learn her magic at home? She asked herself. The past years have been good, have they not? Lord Gaeb could easily afford to hire some of the best tutors in the realm should he have to. So why? Do not be mistaken, Anastasia loved magic. It fascinated her in a way very few people could understand. All she asked was why she could be allowed to continue her studies at home, away from all those snobbish fools that most undoubtedly populate the halls of the Academy. Literally, anyone with enough gold could gain admittance. And most that did, did so not out of a genuine interest in the arcane, but rather as a means to form connections with potential future archmages.

Politics. The whole thing disgusted her to no end.

"Stop looking so glum," Molly whispered, jolting Anastasia out of her thoughts. "This is a rare chance, my lady, to learn from the best. To grow beyond the confines of the castle walls... and maybe even,"—her voice dips into an even quieter whisper—"discover romance."

Anastasia shivered in disgust as she recoiled away from the attendant. "Is that all that is in your thick head?" she said. "You shame me, Molly."

The woman giggled in response as she nudged her steed closer to Anastasia's. "You must forgive me then, my lady."

"...I shall miss Father terribly," Anastasia said after a moment of silence.

"You fret too much, my lady," came Molly's response. "The lord is but a letter away. Besides, think of all the tales of your own you'll have to share upon your return!"

"...Tales, is it?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes! I heard so much about the academy. It must be a really exciting place."

Anastasia scoffed, turning to glance at the towering man riding protectively a few steps ahead of her. "Hear that, Ser Baldwin? Exciting, she says."

The grizzled man shot a sideways glance at Molly before looking back to the path ahead. "Naïve," he said, his voice a gruff rumble. "Keep an eye on her, Ana, lest they eat her alive."

Anastasia managed to suppress a giggle that threatened to bubble up her chest at Molly's expense. "It can't be that bad," Molly said, pouting.

"It is," Ser Baldwin replied without looking back. "I studied at the Academy for some time, many moons back. The place is crawling with snakes and backstabbing foxes. You would be wise to find trustworthy allies. Failing that, keep to yourself."

"...I have heard that some of the most powerful people in the realm studied at the Academy," Anastasia said, quickly changing the topic as she noticed Molly's diminishing enthusiasm.

Ser Baldwin nodded. "Indeed. Many a king, duke and archmage graduated from the institution. The Academy has been the cradle of greatness since the inception of the kingdom. There is little doubt that it will continue to do so. And Molly is right, this is a rare chance, my lady. Learn to be a bit more appreciative of his Lordship."

"Shall I also write him a letter the moment we arrive?" Anastasia grumbled, not at all happy to hear another voice of reason. She was fully content being annoyed about the whole matter, to be honest.

Molly's retort was thankfully interrupted as Ser Baldwin raised his right hand. "Halt!" he ordered as he reached for the pommel of his sword with his left.

At first, Anastasia noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but given she did not have a perception stat of over seventy, she wisely did not question the battle-hardened man's judgement. Moments later, a man riding a horse appeared from behind the curve at the end of the path. It was obvious the fellow was a noble. One that fell upon hard times, if what she saw was to be believed.

Although the garments he wore were of fine make, they were now dirty and ruined, perhaps as he fled whatever battle he was in. A crude, bloody bandage was wrapped around his right thigh. He looked haggard. Even the finely bred horse beneath him looked exhausted.

Anastasia leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. Who was this mysterious figure? She wondered. His presence here on the border of her father's fief, in such a state, was an enigma. Ser Baldwin dismounted his horse with a grace that belied his size and approached the young man cautiously.

"State your business," the knight shouted, his posture distrustful.

The haggard nobleman man looked up as if just noticing the rather large group ahead of him. He raised one hand, waving it weakly.

"Ah," the man slurred, his voice nearly inaudible even in the stark silence. "Finally. Civilized people."

Ser Baldwin, however, didn't seem to be in a bantering mood. "I said," he repeated as he drew his blade. "State. Your. Business."

The stranger's smile turned brittle. Both his hands slowly rose in a surrendering gesture. A hacking cough broke from his chest before he replied, his words still a slur.

"I... come in peace?"

TCOB: CHAPTER TWO( Arc 2)

Hunt

The sun had begun its descent by the time Clyde unexpectedly stumbled back on the trail that brought the delving expedition to the dungeon in the first place. The soft, trodden soil still bore the marks left behind by the conscripted Yeomen; all of whom, except him, were most likely now dead.

For a moment, Clyde stood at the crossroads, contemplating the two choices that lay before him. Should he return in the direction of Neverna, he would more quickly put this entire debacle behind him. But should he follow the footsteps back to the secluded ravine that was the dungeon's mouth, he would most likely be able to scavenge a few supplies and medicine from the many corpses outside the dungeon to treat his steadily worsening injury, decreasing the possibility that he might not make it back in the first place.

With a painful sigh, the reincarnator turned—ignoring that lizard part of his brain screaming to flee from the area entirely—as he began to trudge back towards the dungeon.  A fever was beginning to take hold of him and his thoughts felt light and fuzzy. Clyde was utterly exhausted, his bones weighing his body down like lead weights. Blood had fully soaked his crudely bandaged wound, and with adrenaline no longer in his veins to mute the pain, he knew it was a fool's dream to say with any certainty that he might make it to Neverna in the state he currently was.

His short sword, the blade stained with a mix of dried blood and viscera and its sharp edge dulled, felt more like a burden now than any true means of self-defense. Still, he did not dare put it down. Memories of bonehounds snapping at his heels continued to burn brightly in his mind.

Soon he arrived back at the ravine. The towering trees growing on the walls around the site now felt distinctly ominous with the dim light of dusk drawing long shadows beneath them. The tiny stream that flowed along to the right of the ravine trickled along noisily, the sounds doing little to alleviate the tension in the air.

The shadowy corner at the heart of the narrow gorge that was the entrance to the dungeon was now pitch black. Undiscernible. When Clyde listened carefully, he felt he could faintly hear the scraping noise of bone claws digging through dirt and hard rock.

Whether it was reality or merely a figment of his feverish imagination, Clyde couldn't say with much certainty.

Still, he hurriedly began his search, ransacking whatever bodies he found for something of value. Most had already been stripped bare, but he managed to find a few pieces of meat jerky, as well as one vial of low-grade healing salve that had been distributed to every man on the day the expedition sat out.

Carefully, Clyde undid the crude bandage he had wrapped around his thigh before rinsing out the wound in the nearby stream. The salve burned for a few moments when it came in contact with the gash in his flesh but it quickly settled into a more cooling sensation a few seconds later.

When done, he washed the bandages before wringing them out and re-wrapping them around his wound. The few supplies he managed to gather were stored in a bag he found and—

Footsteps.

Clyde froze, his eyes flickering to the less-worn short sword he had picked off one yeoman's corpse. It was lying on a log by the stream a few meters away, where he had left it after cleaning it. 

Fuck! 

Thoughts swam frantically in his head as he realized he couldn't reach the weapon without alerting whatever had come visiting.

The footsteps grew closer.

Clyde pried his dagger free from its crude strap by his waist as he balanced his body weight on his uninjured leg. Dire anticipation flooded his mind as the animal drew closer.

Closer still. He could now begin to make out the silhouette of a four-legged, long-necked creature, its shoulders nearly as high as a man was tall.

A horse.

A breath of relief escaped Clyde as he put his dagger away before slowly approaching the animal. He had ridden horses quite frequently in his past life, mostly for fun, sometimes for sport. He knew his way around them even if the Clyde whose body he now possessed didn't.

"Hello," he whispered, his voice just barely audible above his labored breathing. The animal huffed in response but remained calm. It was well-bred and taken cared for, that much Clyde could infer as he ran his hand down along its long face. Gripping its reins, he maneuvered himself to stand by the saddle before rummaging through the leather bag that was hanging from it.

Clyde still couldn't read, so he was unable to infer what any of the neatly folded documents inside said. A shame, they seemed very important. Putting those aside, he pulled free some fresh sets of familiar clothes, vials containing strange, mystical fluids, two bottles of ale, more beef-jerky, and a strange-looking talisman with a familiar curly pattern on its surface. It was at that moment that Clyde realized Ser Dunice, the supervisor for the other platoon, didn't flee from the cave when his fellow supervisors did.

"Ah," the reincarnator said eloquently. "You're the other bastard's horse. And he's dead now ... so I get to keep you?"

The horse grunted, seemingly in response. 

Clyde took that as an agreement.

His gaze flickered to the talisman he found in the satchel by the saddle as his hand reached for the magical noose around his neck. Unless he was mistaken, the patterns on the talisman were reminiscent of the ones on the necklace around his neck. Still, despite suspecting the talisman to be the key to unlocking the delayed death sentence strapped to his person, Clyde didn't have an inkling of thought about how to use it so he just stuffed it back in the satchel and steered the horse towards the stream.

A matter of a later time, he supposed.

Holding that thought, he discarded his yeoman garb and quickly washed his body to the best of his ability before donning one of Dunice's much cleaner clothes. His new sword was wrapped in a piece of rag before it was stuffed into the satchel.

Exhaustion clawed at Clyde's mind as he hauled himself onto the horse's saddle, but the fear seared into his mind kept it at bay. The former inspector knew well that rest would continue to remain beyond him until his body failed or he put a few dozen miles between himself and the dungeon, preferably before the monsters trapped within inadvertently break out and begin to scour the surrounding forest of anything and everything that moves.

***

A few hours later.

The vine-laden, rusted metal door that Clyde left in his wake stood silently amongst the trees that had grown to surround and conceal it. Unmoving. 

Until it was not. 

There was a loud bang as something collided with it from behind. The door rang like a gong, frightening what little critters made their home there into hiding. There was another ear-splitting bang, and another before a fourth tore it off its hinges.

The towering bonehound that stood behind it staggered out before shaking as a dog might do after coming out of water; clumps of coagulated blood scattered from the gash along its shoulder, splattering on the surrounding leaves and trees and making a general mess of things. The monster, seemingly unaware of matters of this nature, turned an angry gaze to the fallen obstacle, glaring at it for a long moment before sniffing disdainfully and looking away. Its attention turned to the faint blood trail leading from its feet into the forest as many of its smaller brethren poured out of the underground corridor behind it. Calmly, it took a deep sniff of the blood-tainted air.

Then, suddenly, its ears rose to attention as it lowered its frame to the ground before shooting forth, its pack hot on its heels, with the intent of continuing the hunt.

TCOB: CHAPTER ONE( Arc 2)

By the Margin

One by one, the Yeomen fell.

The Bonehounds were relentless, their snarls echoing through the caverns like the laughter of death itself. Clyde stumbled through the darkness, his breath ragged, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. facing a dead-end, the reincarnator scrambled up the pile of jagged rocks that sealed the dungeon exit before him.

The blood-curdling scream of another man rang out from behind him. There was a clattering noise of rocks tumbling down as the unfortunate fellow was dragged into the roiling mass of jaws and claws below. The telltale clinks of bone claws on hard rock quickly followed as the monsters seemingly turned their sights on Clyde.

The former inspector could have sworn he felt the warm breath of his pursuers through the sole of his boots.

Crawling into a tiny crevice above, Clyde found himself at a dead end, the path blocked by thick, crumbly earth. In the darkness, he heard a scrambling noise beneath him and instinctively swung his blade at his purser. Iron met flesh and a pained yowl sounded from beneath him.

Desperation lent strength to his sword arm. He brandished the blade again and the maw closing around his one of his feet immediately opened up. One creature, bolder, or perhaps, stupider, than the rest, lunged through the darkness at Clyde. It missed by a hair-breath, its great bulk crashing into the earthen ceiling above, dislodging a bit of soil that proceeded to irritate Clyde's eyes. Ignoring his discomfort, as well as his now missing left boot, Clyde plunged his blade into the creature's side. Another notification flashed across his eyes, but his mind was too engaged to truly register it.

The bonehound thrashed, swinging its clawed forearms wildly in retaliation. Luckily for Clyde, he was safely trapped beneath its bulk and hard rock, well out of the reach of the monster's claws. Unluckily for Clyde, he was unfortunately trapped beneath its bulk and hard rock and was slowly being crushed to death. Worst still, he could feel the dislodged boulder he used as a foothold slowly being eroded by the scrambling monsters beneath, threatening to drop him back into the  growing pit of maws waiting at the bottom

Clyde's desperation once again came in clutch, flooding his arms with strength as he pushed against the creature with all his might. A gap formed, large enough that he could pull his blade free before plunging it back into the monster's torso. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again.

The bonehound's thrashing stalled before the creature suddenly stilled, dead. More still were trying to force themselves past their fallen brethren to rip him apart. But it was then Clyde felt it.

A chilly draft rustled his hair from above. He looked up, blinking past the irritating dirt in his eyes to see...

Nothing.

Only darkness. 

With prayers on his lips, Clyde reached up, ignoring the snarling beast just inches from his toes, fighting to be the first to get a bite out of him. His arm touched nothing and another breeze blew past, cooling the sweat on his forearm.

With rekindled hope blossoming in his heart, Clyde crawled upwards, nearly losing his footing in his mad scramble upwards. It was a tight squeeze, the jagged rocks cutting into his exposed skin and gouging his gambeson armor, but the reincarnator couldn't care less. The pain he might have felt felt muted in the face of his impending doom.

Unable to see, he emerged into another dark corridor, this one significantly more refined than the last. The walls and floors were smooth and flat and when his sword fell to the ground it clattered in a manner reminiscent of dropping a utensil on a tiled floor.

Hot pain radiated from his right thigh and his chest heaved with each breath. The snarling noises grew louder and without hesitation, Clyde scrambled for his blade before plunging it into the flesh of the bonehound trying to squeeze out of the hole after him. The creature screeched so he pulled out his blade and did so again. Repeatedly. Until it stopped moving.

[You have inflicted lethal damage]

[You have killed a juvenile bonehound]

[You have gained experience]

With a grunt, Clyde pulled his sword out from the corpse before limping away, slowly picking up the pace as he went. The dead monster was clogging the hole he had crawled through, but Clyde was not inclined to believe it would buy him that much time. He knew he had to leave. Quickly.

He hobbled in the direction of the blowing breeze, praying still that it led to an exit. The snarling continued to echo relentlessly behind him.

Fuck... Clyde uttered via chapped lips. Ditching his blade, he stopped and quickly began to unstrap his gambeson before also tossing it aside. The coarse shirt he wore underneath came off next, and with the dagger strapped to his waist, he cut it into reasonably sized strips before wrapping it like a crude bandage around the still-bleeding gash on his thigh.

The reincarnator felt it would be a real shame if he died from mere blood loss after all he had miraculously survived these past few minutes.

Fumbling around in the darkness, he retrieved his sword before continuing his rushed limp forward. He didn't bother with the armor, believing it might be more of a burden than it was worth at the moment. He was unsure how long he fled, but eventually, he came to the end of the tunnel.

A metal door that was just slightly ajar stood at the end, overgrown with vines and weeds. From the small gap in which air flowed, thin shards of sunlight leaked into the corridor illuminating the skeletal remains of a humanoid figure with their right arm just resting on the door handle. Clyde stumbled forward and pushed aside the skeleton resting on the door; it shattered like glass as it hit the ground.

With a grunt of effort, Clyde pulled open the rusted, vine-bound barrier and fell into the sunlight outside. Relief flooded him. Oh, how he missed the light. For a moment, he simply took in the clean, forest air, but a muted, echoing growl immediately snapped him back into the moment.

Forcing himself up, he turned around towards the door and quickly began to pull it shut. Hopefully, the monsters are not smart enough to know how to open a door.

But just as he was about to shut it, his eyes caught a strange gleam lying among the scattered shards of bones littering the floor. As if with a mind of its own, his arm shot out to snatch the item before the door shut closed.

A ring? Clyde murmured as he stared at the object in his palm. Stuffing it in the pouch sewn into the crotch of his garments, he turned to flee the scene in hopes of finding safety.

TRW: CHAPTER NINE

Morphing Plans

My eyes opened to reveal the sight of the same white ceiling I had been staring at for the past few weeks. The sweet fragrance of blooming orchids tickled my senses. I turned to my side to see the sunken face of a slumbering Ma Yili snuggled up beside me. the troublesome girl was just starting to recover having starved herself for several days on end. Adamant as she was she had refused to eat until I allowed her to bury the remains of the maid she unwittingly condemned to a gruesome end; unwilling to ruin my valuable cauldron, I could only acquiesce her demands.

Still annoyed about the whole debacle, I rose to a seated position on the bed with a grunt. Looking around at the dull paper blinds, I figured it must still be dark outside; probably an hour before sunrise at least.

I slipped out of bed and made my way into the courtyard. There, I settled into a lotus position, closed my eyes, and focused on my breath. I needed to think. Reaching into my storage ring, I retrieved a paper-thin slip of jade.

It contained the details regarding Li Yifeng's inheritance.

It had been a week since I came to the White Orchid sect, and in that time I managed to comb through all twenty-five floors of the East Cauldron archive before finally finding what I sought.

Now that I had the object of my attention in my possession and was no longer blinded by a growing feeling of urgency, the flaws of my plan to gather strength slowly became glaringly obvious. My brows furrowed as I considered what this newfound revelation meant for me moving forward.

Due to the self-reinforcing nature of the legacies Li Shen had unearthed in his journeys, he had been able to rapidly rise through the ranks to become a force to be reckoned with. Yet, a critical inspection of his journey to godhood revealed that if even one key legacy had been overlooked, Li Shen might have not made it as far as he did, if at all.

For this reason, I found that should I continue with the intention of replicating his success, I might eventually find myself inexplicably trapped in limbo—or worse, in a horrible situation—should I, for some reason, be unable to reliably recover the key inheritances and concentrated stores of legacies required.

Knowing this, my entire stratagem to save myself from a gruesome death slowly began to appear doomed from the start.

Troublesome...

I sighed as I opened my eyes and rose to my feet.

There was no point in worrying about this, I tried to convince myself upon realising I couldn't come up with a viable solution. No use thinking about things I couldn't yet control. For now, I should just focus on what I could do. And what I could do now was to find Li Yifeng's caches.

Well, I groused, displeasure coursing through my veins. I better get to it then. 

"Xiao!"

A figure blurred to my side. I looked down to see one of my guards crouched by my side.

"Yes, My prince?"

"Find me a map of the sect's surrounding environs with an emphasis on the Gu reserves. Also, summon Feng Yu. I have some use for him."

"Yes, My Prince."

***

The sun was high in the sky by the time Feng Yu made his way up to my residence. I could not help but frown in irritation as I waited for the cultivator to finally arrive; a part of me was tempted to make an example out of him and demand another from the sect, but the more reasonable parts convinced me otherwise.

Eventually, after much delay, I heard the sound of the residence's outer doors sliding open.

"My Prince," Feng Yu greeted with a shallow bow as I turned to face him.

"You sure took your sweet time getting here," I mused with a saccharine smile. "Back in the palace, this prince was led to believe that liaisons were at their host's disposal. Yet, in the esteemed White Orchid Sect, a mere disciple dares to keep a prince waiting? Is this place truly so uncultured or are you merely trying to display your dissatisfaction with this prince?... Perhaps I should inform the sect that the liaison they sent is displeased with his task and they should send another? Or perhaps I should just have one of my guards here impart you with the knowledge, form, and etiquette required of a liaison to a prince; I am not sure what being a eunuch would do for your... pleasant attitude but I am quite willing to find out."

The cultivator bowed lower, his face paling and beading with cold sweat. "Forgive me, My Prince. It was not my intention to offend," he said. "It's just... I was caught off guard by your request."

I hummed in response. "...Caught off guard, you say?"

"Yes, My Prince. I was running errands for an elder outside the sect when I received your summons. I rushed over as fast as I could."

A lie, that much I could tell. But, as long as his pride wasn't preventing him from maintaining appearances I saw no real reason to pursue the matter.

I unfurled a scroll containing a detailed map of the sect and pointed it at him. "I plan on visiting the Gu reserves north of this mountain range to gain some practical knowledge of the techniques I have been studying in the sect's alchemy archives," I said, pointing at a smudge on the map as I moved my attention to focus on the true reason I sought the fool out. "I need a guide that is familiar with the area."

***

Somewhere in the Sect.

"Do you know what you are asking of me, Jing-ner?" Head Librarian Jiao asked his companion, a veiled, phoenix-eyed woman, as he folded his arms across his chest in protest. "Regardless of whether or not the girl is merely a mortal or that she possesses some unique physique, you are still suggesting I trick my master into stealing from a notoriously vengeful prince. One bearing a Mandate at that! I have met the "wastrel", my dear, and I will say it now; what I saw did not ease my concerns in any way."

The two were seated in one of the many restaurants in the bustling town below the White Orchid Sect's primary mountain. The building was quite large and brightly lit by the midday sunlight streaming through the open windows. The floors were covered by ornate jade tiles of the finest make and an assortment of tables and chairs occupied the establishment's ground floor, with a large bar built on the far side of the room. Disciples sat around in groups of twos or threes, enjoying their meals.

"...We have to, Jiao," the woman replied after a moment of silence as she cut into her plate of roasted chicken. "Regardless of the risks. He must not be allowed to succeed with his plans."

The Head Librarian shook his head with a sigh as he brought a cup of baijiu to his lips, draining it in a single go. He then placed the empty cup onto the table with a clunk. "Plans? You keep saying plans but remain adamant about leaving me in the dark regarding said plans. I am not—"

"You just have to trust me, Jiao!" the woman snapped irritably. "I gave you a copy of my Master's Essence Transmutation Technique, didn't I? That should be more than enough to show how much I trust you; why can't you extend that same trust to me?"

The two fell quiet, the sound-muffling talisman on the table between them ensuring no external sounds disturbed the sudden silence between them.

"I am sorry," Jiao replied, bowing his head apologetically. "I wasn't thinking—"

"Forget it. Feng Yu has reported back," the woman said, interrupting him as she clutched the sound transmission talisman hanging from her neck. "The Prince bit the bait; he and six of his guards are heading to the Yun Ling mountain range now. Only two guards are with the girl at the moment. Quick! Go and inform your master. We must have the girl before he discovers the ruse."

TCOB: CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wiped (3)

"RUN!"

Startled out of her shock-induced stupor, Nai subconsciously bolted for the exit just behind Sir Justin. As they fled, the monster behind them unleashed a great howl. The beastial cry still echoing through the dungeon was suddenly followed by reverberating tremors that raced through the earthen wall, ceiling and floor. The sound of numerous footsteps converging behind them. Chasing.

For a brief moment, the mage glanced backwards to see a horde of monsters pour out of the cavern. Her already ashen face turned paler. Without a moment's pause, she cast [Haste] on both herself and her companion before slamming her staff on the ground as she uttered a spell

“Todesgrube!”

[You have used Class Skill - Death Pit Lvl 6]

A wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her as a trail of toxic bog opened up directly behind her in the path of the horde. Bonehounds unfortunate enough to fall into the spell immediately began to shrivel up, thrashing frantically in the quasi-sentient, virulent, mana-infused pool of mud; their blackened, corrupted corpses stilling a few moments later.

But as Nai fled in Sir Justin’s wake more creatures appeared attempting to impede their exit. A few from behind―leveraging on the ever-growing piles of the brethren's corpses―caught up but were quickly put down by a barrage of stone lances and the sheer ferocity of Sir Justin's charge. The shield-bearing man bludgeoned monsters out of the way, while his deadly blade seemingly embodied a whirlwind of death.

In a matter of seconds, Nai and the knight reached the rest of the expedition with the beast horde hot on their tail. The thought of ordering the yeomen to flee crossed Nai's mind, yet for some reason her words got stuck down her throat, never to see the light of day. The mage looked to her feet despairing at the thought of her own callousness. At the thought that somewhere deep within her heart she wished―hoped―that their non-consensual sacrifice would buy her a slightly higher chance of survival.

They silently blitzed past the expedition, leaving both the squires and yeomen to their eventual demise. It was then that Sir Justin shouted.

"Seal the dungeon, Nai!"

The mage's footsteps faltered. A mortified expression crept onto her face.

"But―"

"Do it!" the knight insisted.

"If I do that, they will all be trapped and killed. The entire expedition would be lost."

"There is no hope of saving them anymore!" Sir Justin shouted as he swung his sword at another monster that tried to pounce at him, splitting the creature in half along its length. "These men are as good as dead! If you refuse, you would be putting the entire region in danger of these monsters! This is the only way!"

Nai fell silent, clutching harder onto her staff. She knew he was right, yet she was afraid of confronting this truth. To intentionally condemn these defenceless men to such a cruel, gruesome fate? All for the sake of her survival? Were the lives of these men truly so worthless?

"Please Nia," The knight begged. "Please."

With a heart laden with grief and self-loathing, the mage resolutely raised her staff as mana began to gather visibly at the end. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked towards the ceiling and began to mutter a spell.

"Don't you dare!"

At the shout, Nai glanced sideways to see a figure she was not sure she had expected to see. Or even wanted to at the moment.

Clyde.

The man glared murderously at her, flinging his weapon with the intention to kill. Time seemed to stall as Nai watched his shortsword arced towards her defenceless form, yet, she could not bring herself to despise the man. A sublime figure fighting desperately for his survival despite the impossible odds, she saw a shadow of herself in him.

Someday, maybe, this might as well be her ordained fate. The inevitable eventuality of the essence of her existence weighed against another… only to be unceremoniously discarded and forgotten soon after.

'I won't forget you, Clyde,' Nai promised, more to herself than him.

The short sword fell to the floor with a clang. Sir Justin protected her.

As expected.

“Feuerball!”

Above the group, her spell, a basketball-sized ball of flames, materialised before shooting upwards. The spell detonated causing the ceiling to collapse and seal the tunnel, condemning the entire expedition to a fate worse than death.

A fate wrought by Nai's own hands.

***

A solemn silence descended, shrouding the small group of men in a baleful aura. Clyde and his fellow soldiers slowly turned around towards the end of the tunnel. There they could faintly hear the heavy thudding of numerous running footsteps.

Moments later, a figure appeared from the darkness. Another bonehound, the largest Clyde had ever seen. Standing at about two-and-a-half metres in height, its muscular shoulders were covered in short bony spikes that faintly scraped the ceiling. Long sickle-like claws on its forearm clinked audibly on the stone floor, glinting dimly in the dark as fresh blood dripped off its edge.

There was a bleeding gash about forty centimetres long between the monster's neck and left shoulder as well as multiple smaller wounds littering its body. Large portions of its thick leathery armour were covered in scorch marks but that did not make the monster look any less intimidating.

Especially not with the pack of lesser bonehounds slinking hungrily behind it.

The monsters' sights were locked on Clyde and the men he stood with.

"Oh, fuck…" he muttered depressingly as the hairs along the back of his neck stood on end.

TCOB: CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Wiped (2)

"Something is wrong with that thing," Nai sounded a quick word of warning as she stared at the monster ahead. "Be careful."

The knights who were about to charge back in halted momentarily as they considered her words. The next moment they both gave faint nods before racing towards the alpha bonehound.

“Feuerball!”

[You have used Class Skill - Fire Ball Lvl 4]

The flaming projectile which took a while longer to materialise than the stone lances Nai had been using earlier only managed to score a glancing hit, but unfortunately for the monster, upon contact exploded in a resplendent flash of heat, light, and shrapnel

The beast uttered a pained growl, directing a malicious glare at Nai as a portion of its hide was seared by the spell. The mage wasn't too happy about the results though. She could feel the monster adapting to their methods.

Lobbing a quick barrage of stone lances to keep the creature on its feet, she galvanised her mana reserve in anticipation of another spell.

“Geistergriff!”

A spectral hand immediately manifested above the monster, gripping it by the torso and pinning it to the ground. The two knights who had been waiting for a window to attack immediately took advantage of the monster's temporary lack of mobility. The Bladedancer raced towards the bonehound, leaping into the air and hacking down in a bid to sever its neck at the base. Realising the knight's intentions the creature suddenly leaned away, the knight's strike digging into its shoulder instead.

With another guttural scream, the monster bit down towards Sir Dunice, but the nimble knight had already retreated. Simultaneously, from the side, Sir Justin ran forward with his glowing shield raised.

Eyes glaring warily, the monster suddenly reared back on its hind paw, pushing against Nai’s will. It turned around, swiping its freed claws at the approaching knight. Realising this, Nai switched her focus to the descending pawstrike, slowing it down and rapidly bleeding it of its momentum.

When the strike did finally connect, it had lost a vast amount of the power it contained. So much so that Sir Justin didn't even budge as he tanked the blow. Contemptuously shrugging off the monster's attack, the knight struck out with his blade opening up another wound across its exposed chest.

“Erderlanze!”

Nai fired off another stone lance. The projectile arced forward before shattering deeply into the shoulder wound Sir Dunice opened up just moments ago. That elicited another guttural scream from the monster.

Nai watched warily. Both knights temporarily retreated as the enraged monster succeeded in freeing itself from her control spell.

“Feuerball!”

Nai immediately fired another spell but the monster directly ignored it, allowing the spell to detonate on its open shoulder wound. With rage-filled eyes, it also ignored the two knights as it raced towards Nai, its savage gaze glinting with a malicious promise.

Realising the monster's intentions, Sir Justin immediately moved, blocking its path while Sir Dunice closed in from behind. Upon reaching Justin, the monster reared up on its hind leg to strike at the shield-bearing knight…

But it was a feint.

Pivoting on its hind limbs, it faced the airborne Sir Dunice with a swing of its claws. The nimble knight however just lightly kicked off the assailing appendage, directly avoiding the attack.

Time seemed to slow down as Nai watched the knight fall towards the bonehound's exposed chest, his mana-infused sword poised to pierce the thinner hide and obliterate the heart contained within…

Then a barrier appeared, blocking the Bladedancer’s strike.

Nai blinked as Sir Dunice slammed into the crude magical construct, his sword piercing halfway through and just slightly stabbing the creature’s chest. His arms sunk through the barrier while his face and the rest of his body remained pressed against what was left. The damaged barrier didn't last long though, fizzing out of existence and unceremoniously dumping the knight at the monster's feet.

Then she blinked again as the bonehound bent over to pick a dazed Sir Dunice between its jaws, shaking him brutally like a ragdoll before tossing him towards the barrier dividing the cavern. Ignoring the other two, the bonehound trotted over to its victim chomping down and then violently yanking its head sideways.

Still shell-shocked, Nai watched as the monster dumped the torso half of Sir Dunice at its feet before turning back to face them. Its vaguely malicious glare succeeded in snapping her out of her reverie.

"W-was that a barrier?" Nai asked with a heavy stammer. Her head snapped sideways to face a paling Justin before returning to the bonehound seated at the other end, with its blackened tongue hanging out and its hairless tail wagging animatedly behind it.

"It was…" Sir Justin croaked back.

"Should we?.." Nai asked an implied question to which the knight gently shook his head.

"Sir Dunice's demise was unfortunate," Sir Justin said as he steadied his trembling voice, "but all hope is not lost yet. With the two of us against just it, we could still―"

The knight suddenly choked on his words. Nai watched with an increasingly horrified expression as the monster raised one of its forelimbs toward the mana barrier. For some reason, its claws slowly gained a vague ephemeral glow.

"I-is that Mana Blade?" Nai asked, ashen. As if answering her question, the bonehound pressed its claws into the barrier before dragging it across in a disdaining manner. The barrier was like a mound of butter before the technique. Severely damaged, it flickered momentarily before disappearing altogether, freeing the contained monsters within.

Then, with an almost theatrical flair, the monster turned back to face Nai and Justin―its submissive brethren crouching silently behind it― as its now calm gaze whispered gently to Nai where she stood.

'Despair, little one…' the monster seemed to say to her.

And Nai did just that.

TCOB: CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Wiped (1)

For a split moment, the tunnel fell eerily silent as both sides stared each other down.

Synapses in Nai's brain fired spontaneously, her subconscious weaving her mana as she raised her staff and screamed a spell.

“Wasserschleier!”

[You have used Class Skill - Water Veil Lvl 5]

At her behest, a translucent barrier sprang into existence directly behind the largest monster present. The female mage stumbled slightly, an acute feeling of tiredness washing over her accompanied by the rapid depletion of her mana reserves. The large magical construct solidified into a glass-like wall, directly splitting the cavern in half and inadvertently separating the oversized bonehound from the rest of its pack.

Sir Dunice glanced approvingly at Nai before immediately turning his attention back to the creature ahead, his figure tense in anticipation. Surprisingly though, the monster did not appear to be interested in them at the moment. Instead, it inspected the mana barrier with an almost child-like innocence. A sight that forced a frown onto Nai's face while she consumed another mana potion.

The bonehound faced away from them, observing the barrier by clinking a large sickle-like claw against its surface. It was clearly curious and this fact unnerved Nai. Greatly.

Curiosity is said to be the wick in the candle of learning for good reasons. Without curiosity, there would not be a drive to learn nor the desire to experience new things. Without learning, there would be no awareness or comprehension, and without comprehension, sentience would not exist.

This monster unhesitantly indulged its curiosity, proving its drive and capability to learn. This in turn is a clear indicator of some sort of established intelligence, a mental faculty with the capacity to evaluate logical situations and a possible confirmation of the creature's ability to comprehend. Following this line of thought, one could infer that the monster is sapient…

Or at the very least, capable of some form of sagacity.

It wasn't the fact that the monster was probably intelligent that bothered Nai―there are many intelligent monsters on Ethania, some more so than even the greatest human mages. What truly worried her was the level of intelligence it displayed when considering its species.

With a brief observation, Nai reckoned it was probably just a slightly larger-than-average [Alpha Bonehound] without any significant physical mutations given its obvious morphology. Disregarding its intelligence, a monster of this type rarely exceeded Silver rank on the threat scale due to its generally low intelligence and almost negligible mana manipulation ability.

But if one accounts for an unusual increase in the intelligence stats for any given monster, the said creature's threat ratings tend to dramatically rise as well. As for how much of an increase this 'small' detail would induce?

Nai did not have the faintest idea…

While the mage was caught in her assessment of the threat, an armoured figure suddenly charged towards the monster which was still keenly observing the barrier. Soundlessly, the armoured figure slipped past Nai’s barrier, but as he got within a few metres of the monster, it pivoted its bulk on its hind paws as it swung its sickle-like claws in defence.

The armoured figure rebounded in a shower of sparks, tumbling multiple times in mid-air before carving deep scars onto the dungeon floor as he skidded to a stop. A moment passed with Sir Justin remaining motionless where he crouched before he suddenly shook his shield arm as he rose to his feet. Glaring disappointedly at the monster from behind his visor, he raised his faceplate slightly, spitting towards the side before readjusting his helmet.

Annoyed about being disturbed, the bonehound growled at the knight. With a sharp bark, it raced forward.

“Zeitverzerrung! Erderschutz! Erderschutz! Erderschutz!”

[You have used Class Skill - Time Distortion Lvl 4]

[You have used Class Skill - Earth Wall Lvl 3]

[You have used…]

Immediately firing off multiple spells in succession, Nai attempted to weaken the monster's momentum. Patches of distorted time formed in the bonehound's path while stone walls rose from the ground to block its charge. The agile creature failed to evade the time distortions. Momentarily bogged down, it was unable to clear the walls, crashing into it.

With a loud noise and rain of mud and rocks, the bonehound's bulk directly pulverised the obstacle as it tumbled across the floor. The monster clumsy skidded to a stop and immediately tried to get back to its feet, but a salvo of well-timed stone lances smashed against its right forelimb and shoulder, knocking it back to the ground.

Despite the power of her spells though, Nai watched with a dark expression as the usually lethal projectiles were shrugged off, merely shattering upon impact. The projectiles did little damage other than shallowly piercing the monster's hide and inducing a small bleed status.

But her efforts weren't in vain. The spells provided a suitable cover for the two knights to safely close the distance and engage the creature. Sir Dunice was the first to close in despite being farther away. The agility-oriented advantage granted by his [Bladedancer] class made surpassing Justin a relatively easy task.

Skidding on the muddy ground directly beside the beast, the lithe knight slashed at the monster's hide multiple times in quick succession before darting backwards as it retaliated with a clamp of its jaws.

As the first knight retreated the second arrived, charging in. Raising his shield, he tanked a clumsy swipe from the bonehound's left foreclaw. Violently slipping through its defences, Sir Justin decisively stabbed his blade into the creature's right flank.

A guttural growl laced with pain and malice echoed through the dungeon. Seemingly noticing the malevolent glare in the monster's eyes, the shield-bearer backed off just in time to avoid another potentially lethal strike.

Moderately bleeding and realising the threat the knights represented, the bonehound slowly backed away with a hint of caution in its gaze.

“Erderlanze!”

Not the type to miss out on a cheeky shot, Nai fired another projectile at the retreating monster; this time aiming for the stab wound Sir Justin had just inflicted on its side.

With a hesitant growl, the bonehound backed away further into the cavern while the trio temporarily regrouped as Nai emptied another vial of mana potion. The two knights also consumed what appeared to be stamina potions.

"Normal attacks are not that effective on that thing," Sir Justin said with a small frown. "I will be going all out, you should too."

Nai glanced at Sir Dunice. The knight also seemed to have arrived at this conclusion as she could feel the mana in his body roil. The Bladedancer's sword slowly took a vague ephemeral glow, telltale signs that he had begun to use the skill [Mana Blade]. Ahead of the two, Sir Justin's shield lit up faintly along the carved runes on its surface.

The Alpha bonehound sat at the edge of the mana barrier, pacing as it warily watched them approach. The discovery of the dungeon had long sealed its fate. That was a monster living on borrowed time, this much Nai knew.

Yet for some reason, as she stared at the cornered beast, she saw within its savage gaze what she could only describe as a scheming glimmer…

TCOB: CHAPTER TWENTY

Into the belly of the beast (3)

Twenty minutes later…

…

“Erderlanze!”

Nai calmly stood behind a line of squires as she fired off one last stone construct. The magical projectile flew via an almost-level flight path before impaling a bonehound in the head. The creature struggled briefly for a moment―blood spilling morbidly―before going still the next. Dead.

[You have used Class Skill - Earth Lance Lvl 3]

[You have killed an Adult Bonehound]

[You have gained experience]

Nai exhaled a breath of relief as the last of the monsters unfortunate enough to come out was slain. She glanced at the ivory box in her left hand, noting with a sour expression that the rather expensive lure had already been completely expended. Only an empty container heavy with a bloody stench remained.

Well, that's one enriched mana stone gone with the wind… literally, she thought, feeling morose for a second before immediately experiencing self-loath.

People died and here I am complaining about spent mana stones, Ugh. With her mind laden with complex emotions, Nai trudged over to where the two knights stood at the forefront of the staging ground. Both men looked slightly winded but were entirely unscathed without even the slightest scratch. The two were covered in bits of flesh and entrails, their suits of armour slick with blood making them appear particularly savage-looking.

"The lure?" Sir Justin asked Nai as he flicked a few drops of blood off his weapon's edge.

"We are out," Nai shook her head lightly in response to which the knight sighed.

"I was hoping it could have lasted a while longer," he said. "The more of these pests we could get out now, the less we would have to deal with inside where they have the terrain advantage. If only the lord provided us with a few more of those rocks, the expedition would have been a whole lot easier."

"Those 'rocks' are expensive, Justin," Nai scoffed lightly as she turned her attention to the dungeon before them.

Sir Justin just sighed in response. "We should get the men ready to begin the delve."

"Now?" Nai asked, a bit startled. "Shouldn't we at the very least allow them to get some rest first before plunging them right back into battle?"

"It's alright," Sir Justin replied, rather dismissively. "Most of the ones remaining alive probably have the class attributes [Soldier's Vigour], [Hardy Folk], or both. Their stamina drain compared to ours is much, much less. Considering I don't feel too tired despite the heavy penalties I receive due to my [Shield-bearer] class, I reckon it should be fine..."

"That's because your class is defensive in nature, you twat!" Nai retorted, somewhat annoyed. "Of course, your stamina drain is going to be higher than these weaker, unspecialised yeomen. Or what did you expect?"

"There is no reason to needlessly escalate things," Sir Dunice sighed and he quickly intervened. "I understand your concerns, Lady Mage and I fully agree. The men are exhausted and would be much less useful in their current states. I propose we let them take a thirty-minute break to reorganise before we go under, or what do you think Sir Justin?"

The knight in question just shrugged before walking towards the rudimentary rampart that served as the first earthen line of defence. "Whatever, I will keep watch since it appears I am the least exhausted amongst us, you guys can sort out the preparations. I would hate to have to extend this longer than it should be."

Nai watched with an exasperated stare as Justin walked off, a hint of impatience in his stride. Shaking her head at the knight's antics, she turned her attention back to Dunice who had already begun shouting instructions as he left for the horses in the back. She stood there, momentarily lost in thought as she observed a few injured men with a critical eye.

They probably won't live past the next fight, she inferred with a hint of a frown, before sighing as she quickly remembered that there was little she could do about this fact. Of course, she could offer to heal a few, but with her limited mana reserves, that was in itself a lost cause.

Leaving Sir Justin behind to guard the dungeon entrance with only a few keen-eyed archers as support, Nai also returned to her horse. Stopping by the animal's side she removed a small leather satchel and extracted a small porcelain vial from within.

Almost subconsciously, she uncorked the bottle before drinking the contents down in one small gulp. A sweet, fruity taste blossomed in her mouth while a notification flashed in the corner of her eyes.

[You have consumed a low-grade Mana Potion]

Shutting her eyes as she savoured the sweet taste in her mouth, Nai watched as her mana bar on her status screen animatedly replenished itself, soon capping off at a moderate 175 pts.

She exhaled gently, feeling the strength returning to her veins with all feelings of lethargy quickly wearing off. Her eyes snapped open with a hint of clarity and she looked off into the distance to see Justin leaning against an earthen rampart as he watched the dungeon with an odd mix of wariness and boredom. Sir Dunice on the other hand continued to shout orders to the soldiers as they shuffled about, fatigued.

This was going to be her first dungeon delve, and for the sake of her career and reputation, she had to do her best to ensure everything went on smoothly…

***

An hour and a half later.

…

“Erderlanze!”

“Erderlanze!”

“Erderlanze!”

The dungeon stank. Horribly.

Whilst lobbing manifest stone constructs with unerring accuracy at the hordes of monsters that rushed out of the dungeon depths, Nia soon found herself fighting a different battle in hopes that she didn’t pass out from the smell.

With her staff illuminating the tunnel in a white glow, the mage could see the damp tunnel walls that had been covered in scratch marks. The floor was a muddy mess of wet soil, feces, and blood that faintly sucked the soles of her boots with each step she took.

Standing protectively ahead of her was Sir Justin with his blade in one hand and a heavy jousting shield in the other. In his hands, the relatively small slab of metal appeared to be more of an offensive weapon than it was a defensive one. Brutally swinging the square shield around, the knight smashed would-be assailants into the adjacent walls. The creatures' bones audibly shattered upon impact, their insides pulverised into a thick slurry of organs and blood that leaked out their gaping maws.

Further ahead was Sir Dunice drenched in blood and entrails as he deftly wielded his longsword. The knight swung his blade as he ducked in and out of the enemy's ranks, systematically picking off bonehounds as they attempted to herd him into a killing circle. In the face of the pack's tactics, less adept fighters might have already fallen prey, but the older, more experienced man seemed impervious to all.

Nai nonetheless continued her magical barrage, her staff held out regally as she spammed spells only to stop every once in a while to gulp down a mana potion.

A few monsters managed to sidestep the hailstorm of death that was herself and the accompanying knights, only to end up in another fight for their lives. The yeomen and squires lagging slightly behind would deal with whatever made it through as they had been instructed.

Without bothering too much about how efficiently the tunnel was cleared of monsters, Nai and the two knights could make their way deeper into the dungeon, spearheading the assault.

However, just at the precepts of entering a large cavern at the end of the tunnel, Nai fired one last [Stone lance] at a struggling bonehound before sharing a glance with the two knights.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong.

"How many are they?" Sir Dunice asked with a frown. "I can't properly sense the monsters inside…"

“Mondtrance.”

[You have used Class Skill - Intermediate Mana Sense Lvl 3]

"About a hundred," Nai replied as a small notification appeared in the corner of her vision. "Possibly all adults with one very large specimen at the forefront… Lichtzauber!”

[You have used Class Skill - Light Enchantment Lvl 1]

As she cast another spell, a basketball-sized orb of light formed above her head before floating up into the tunnel. The light orb bobbed along, illuminating the entire cavern.

At the end of it were rows, upon rows of monsters sitting fearfully in the rear…

And in front sat a monstrous specimen.

The bonehound was probably the largest Nai had ever seen before. The wolf-like creature stood at about two-and-a-half metres in height, its muscular shoulders covered in short bony spikes that faintly scraped the ceiling and its body protected by a thick mass of leathery hide. The monster's long, sickle-like claws on its forearm clinked on the rocky floor, glinting dimly in the dark as the light from her spell shone off its seemingly polished surface.

As Nai stared at the monster, it stared back, intelligence flickering in its eyes.

It appeared the creature had long been patiently awaiting their arrival…

TCOB: CHAPTER NINETEEN

Into the belly of the beast (2)

Nai stared at the cave in front of her with a small frown on her face. She extended her staff towards the cave entrance, her senses venturing deep into the underground system of tunnels as she sampled the mana within.

“Mondtrance,” she whispered, calling on her mana.

[You have used Class Skill - Intermediate Mana Sense Lvl 3]

"Is there a problem, Miss Nai?" Sir Dunice asked curiously as he came to stop beside her. Behind the duo, yeomen toiled hard as they rapidly constructed a few layers of simple fortifications of wooden spikes and earthen mounds around the entrance to the ravine, containing it and creating a suitable staging ground to begin securing the dungeon.

Behind them stood a few squires armed with bows as they alertly eyed the dungeon entrance for any signs of suspicious activity.

"I am not sure," Nai replied, her frown deepening. "The mana readings I am getting tallies with the estimated norm for a silver-grade dungeon―if you take the natural dissipation of mana within the dungeon into account. Yet, for some reason, the behaviour of the monsters inhabiting it seems to vary greatly from what I expected. They appear… too calm?"

"...I don't understand what you mean," Sir Dunice said with a slight frown.

"It has already been over two weeks since this dungeon breach was confirmed, right?" Nai asked.

"Yes?"

"Ok, how do I explain this? You see, monsters have been well documented to prefer locations of higher ambient mana densities as a high concentration of ambient mana is speculated to be a necessity required for a monster's growth. In the likely scenario that the ambient mana within a monster's habitat falls below a certain degree, the creature inhabiting the territory would usually migrate in search of a more suitable location to inhabit, right?"

"Yes?" Sir Dunice nodded.

"Given that the ambient mana within dungeons such as this one dissipates over time, it would be perfectly normal for the monsters within to have started growing restless due to their primal instincts urging them to move to a new location."

"How much has the ambient mana within this dungeon fallen?" Sir Dunice asked, realising Nai's concerns.

"...Enough for the creatures within to have long ventured outside," Nai replied. "The ambient mana levels seem to have fallen below critical levels for some time now. It appears the information Lord Gaeb got in regards to this breach was procured a little too late… or this dungeon just matured quicker than we expected."

Sir Dunice fell silent for a moment as he contemplated the implications of Nai's words.

"I will have the men take a look around," the knight said at last. "Though, I wouldn’t worry much. There could be an inert mana vein in there which you probably can't sense but the monsters are subsisting on. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, right?”

"If that, then it's all good. I believe the lord would be elated to hear we discovered a mana vein on a relatively low-risk delve." Nai fell silent for a moment before speaking. "Where is Sir Justin? He needs to be informed about this."

"He took a few men to get a lay of the land," Sir Dunice replied as he turned around to leave. "I will inform him about your findings when he returns."

Nai nodded faintly as she continued to stare at the dungeon for a few moments longer before also deciding to leave.

As she walked back she caught sight of Clyde's figure erecting a portion of an earthen wall in the distance. She paused as the odd thought to seek his opinion regarding this matter crossed her mind. Shaking her head, she stamped down the urge to approach him and continued on her way.

Despite wanting to once again speak with the man, Nai avoided him like a plague. She felt afraid of him…

Or at least dreadful of what other cruel truths he had hidden in that tainted mind of his.

…

An hour later…

"The men reported finding no signs of monster activity outside the dungeon," Sir Justin said to Nai as he and Sir Dunice approached where she stood. "There might be a mana vein inside like you suspected."

"Are you certain?" Nai asked as she continued to stare at the dungeon entrance in the distance.

"Yes, we are," Sir Dunice replied calmly. "I believe it would be best if we avoided delaying our plans any longer. If there is truly a mana vein in there and those monsters are consuming it, then every minute we waste out here is another iota of value that is being lost. That said, I suggest we begin our task immediately."

Nai looked to Sir Justin for his opinion as the unease she felt within remained strong. The knight however seemed to agree with his colleague.

"I gather the men and have them prepare themselves," Sir Justin said as he handed a leather satchel to Nai. “Unseal the lure while that’s being done.”

Nai nodded as she cast her gaze around at the men busying themselves in anticipation of the battle ahead.

"Understood," she nodded. Reaching into the leather satchel she pulled out a small box. It was an ivory container that appeared to have been delicately crafted. Its surface was covered in elegantly carved runes and whorls while a few texts of esoteric writing were centred on the lid.

Nai stared solemnly at the box for a few moments before she mumbled a word under her breath.

“Barrierenbann.”

[You have used Class Skill - Barrier Dispell Lvl 3]

[Intelligence check…]

[Check passed]

[Perception check…]

[You have undone a containment seal]

Nai acutely felt as a sliver of her mana was consumed and the box lid grew loose. Giving one last glance to the knights who approached the dungeon with their weapons at ready, Nai exhaled deeply before, with a slight pull, she opened the box in her hands.

The feeling was sudden. A conflicting feeling of revulsion and euphoria coursed through Nai's veins as she felt a gust of mana escape from the box and wash over her. In seconds the air around the entrance to the dungeon was saturated by a high concentration of mana and the thick stench of fresh blood.

Nai glanced inside the container in her hands, watching as a single shard of solid crimson-coloured mana rapidly evaporated, thick red vapour rising visibly from it. It was then she heard it. The deep growls and cackles of terrible creatures beneath the earth and the thunderous thudding of a swarming horde.

The mage looked up to see a small cloud of dust suddenly billow out from within the dungeon. Moments later a blurry figure burst out from the cave, racing towards her direction. Then it tumbled for several metres before skidding to a stop, an arrow sticking out from its chest.

Nai strained her eyes slightly as she identified the creature, a hairless wolf-like beast with clawed feet, a short tail, and a thick leathery hide.

"Bonehounds," Sir Dunice said calmly from the front as he adjusted his stance with his sword poised in front of him. "Stay defensive, Maggots! Don't break your ranks!"

As the knight uttered his instructions, several more figures raced out of the dungeon. Nai watched as the squires picked off most of the creatures with their bows before they could even make it past a few metres from the cave's entrance. A few got through this net of arrows though, before being summarily cut down by the two knights in front.

But the wave only grew stronger. Minutes later, monsters were slipping through the first line of defences. They vaulted over the piling mounds of their dead brethren before landing amid the men gathered behind where they wreaked havoc. Within seconds, one unlucky man had already been disembowelled, his steaming guts spilling onto the dirt floor by his feet, thereby marking the first true casualty of this expedition.

Nai watched everything with an even stare for she knew this was still the easy part. Harder times were yet to come. Things would only start to get worse when they get to the actual 'delving' part of the expedition.

Yay… the mage mumbled gloomily as she raised her staff and began to chant a spell under her breath.

“Feuerwirbel!”

[You have used Class Skill - Flame Vortex Lvl 3]

TCOB: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Into the belly of the beast (1)

Clyde marched expressionlessly alongside his fellow yeomen via a forested path. A deathly aura hung over the group. Sir Justin's most recent 'publicity stunt' had placed a dampener on the already vestigial remains of the group's long-deceased morale. Recently, it appears matters with the expedition have started to run on a very one-dimensional basis. Think for example;

You run?

Your necklace strangles you.

Get in a fight without permission?

Your necklace strangles you.

You raise your voice in protest against a supervisor killing two men just because they were fighting?

Your necklace strangles you.

Take a dump in the bushes?

Eh, most of the time nothing happens… Unless you stray too far away from the group and a trigger-happy supervisor accidentally has your necklace strangle you to death while shit runs down your hairy thighs.

So, Yeah…

Pretty one-dimensional.

"We are here," Sir Dunice announced, gesturing for the expeditionary group to stay alert. The knight had a look of sobriety on his face as he alighted from his horse and unsheathed his longsword with Sir Justin taking a defensive position to his left.

Even the unnaturally gloomy Miss Nai sat up on her steed as her eyes grew wary. She gripped her staff tightly in her hand as a small vortex of air twisted around the object's bulbous end.

Seeing their superiors taking such a cautious stance placed the rest of the group in a state of high alert and unease. Men gripped their weapons with whitened knuckles while some subtly huddled together.

"Form up your ranks and move, Maggots!" Sir Dunice ordered coldly. Some men seemed hesitant to follow the knight's orders, but a quick squeeze from the ornaments around their necks helped to reorientate their priorities.

Soldiers hurriedly reformed their scattered ranks, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before resuming their march in a more orderly and cautious manner. Soon the group came upon a secluded ravine. Tall trees grew on the walls around the site while a tiny stream flowed along to one side.

In a shadowy corner, at the heart of this narrow gorge was an earthen fissure. The opening stretched about five metres long and two metres wide as it led downwards into the ground.

From where Clyde and the rest of the yeomen stood, the jagged opening vaguely resembled the maw of a great beast. A faint feeling of fear sprung in Clyde's heart as he heard the faint sound of malicious growls echoing deep from within. Some more fearful men subconsciously stumbled backwards.

The ominous feeling festering in Clyde's chest since he departed Neverna grew, yet a new emotion was born in his mind. An irrational desire. A faint longing…

Calling for him to descend…

TCOB: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Philosophy | How to Give a Mage Existential Crisis 101

Four days later…

In regards to dungeon breaches, there have been many speculations about their creation even amongst the common folk. While most might never see a dungeon even once in their entire lifetime, it was still a very common topic to converse about in taverns and for parents to scare mischievous children at night.

Dungeons have been an integral part of Ethania's history for as long as the oldest surviving texts. One could say, that without dungeons, the culture, and the socio-economic and political systems that are present today would have not existed.

Many believe dungeons are formed from the main body of a system of labyrinths, so large and elaborate that they support entirely separate ecosystems of magical creatures. It is speculated that when enough mana builds up in a portion of this underground system―possibly due to organic magical reactions similarly present in mana veins―it forces its way up to the surface, breaking off that portion from the main body and erupting into what is known as a dungeon.

Others theorize that dungeons are merely a result of spatial rifts connecting Ethania with other realms already overrun with monsters. Some even say dungeons are a curse from the first evil―one who shall remain unnamed―to continue to plunge the world into a constant state of chaos long after their demise. Regardless of the true origin story of dungeons, it is of popular agreement they are threats that should be dealt with with utmost prejudice.

Still, despite the threat that dungeons present, they are still a great source of wealth to be sought after and exploited. From the rare magical minerals that abound in these caverns to the highly sought-after body parts―like the leather used to manufacture 'dungeon grade' gambesons popularly used by dungeon delvers―harvested from slain monsters, it is clear that despite the glaring dangers, every additional dungeon breach is a rare chance to cash in an absurd amount of profit.

In Clyde's previous lifetime, there was a popular saying amongst his former business associates; Industry is predated by the birth of perpetuating wealth. Dungeon delving is a prime example of this, proving that even something as dangerous as this, in the light of perseverance and ingenuity, has the potential of being monetized. The relatively simple process involves the 'recycling' of Irrelevant members of the population by their lords to be used as a cheap and affordable medium for the exploitation of the value that dungeons present.

Although there are many other ways of profiteering off dungeon breaches that are humane and highly efficient―such as the use of professional mercenary services or even private armies―none can match the cost-effectiveness of disposable labor. Similar to how plastics remain integral in the human life cycle back on earth despite the harm it does to the ecosystem, cannon fodders would continue to be used to conquer dungeons regardless of the long-term harm they do to the population.

Clyde's assessment of Ethania might be harsh and biased due to his position in all of this, but more than a glimmer of truth resided in his argument and it all boils down to one final, indisputable conclusion.

Ethania is a cruel and remorseless world.

But as Clyde marched along with his fellow yeomen to what might very well be their final resting place, he only had more questions. Like why?

Why me?

Why here?

Why this?

Clyde felt he could have very well been reborn as a nobleman, a position which would have allowed him to put his innate skills to better use. Or in another world more suited to the mentality he had cultivated for the last twenty-plus years. He wasn't stupid enough to believe everything that had happened since was a result of chance. There had to be a reason.

The unlocked hotel room door… Woo Hee's decision to divorce her spouse while he was armed, enraged, and emotionally unstable? Hyun Bin's inexplicable decision to pull the trigger and ruin his own life? These were all highly unusual in Clyde's opinion.

Clyde knows he never forgets to lock his door. Locking the door was an almost religious activity to him as it signaled the start of greater things to come; either a secretive business deal or an illicit affair. Not once in his life had he ever left his or any of his partner's privacy at the mercy of nosy hotel staff, paparazzi, and suspicious lovers…

Well, not once until that faithless day at least.

As for Woo Hee, from the time Clyde had spent with the woman, he had long confirmed she was a very socially adept person, so much so that he had a hard time deceiving her into climbing onto his bed. Yet, despite this, the woman Clyde had put so much faith in failed to read the atmosphere when it mattered most and brought up the issue of divorce at the least appropriate time.

And while one might argue that Hyun Bin's decision to pull the trigger at that moment seemed to be the most natural, Clyde still felt everything was highly suspicious. The entire incident preceding his death felt oddly…

Choreographed.

It almost felt as if the world was conspiring to send to his death.

His arrival here was also a particularly dubious one. Why did he have to reincarnate in the body of a peasant? A villein! One who had managed to draw the attention of a relentless individual such as Lorin, for that matter.

Clyde's suspicion only grew. He felt a sinister plot brewing underneath all of this. A plot he would very well want nothing to do with yet can do nothing to escape from.

Clyde wasn't a narcissist. He didn't delude himself into believing he was the main character, like in those novels he read about when he was younger. That sort of thinking was bound to guarantee him a slow and gruesome death.

So…

Why?

The ominous itch in his heart only grew stronger.

Glassy-eyed and caught up in his own thoughts, Clyde didn't notice someone settling beside him until they waved a curious hand in front of his face.

"You know, being absent-minded like this out here is a quick, one-way ticket to Infernia," Mage Nai said as she sat beside Clyde at the secluded spot he chose. The expeditionary group had paused for a quick break. Yet, for some reason, the woman left her colleagues and seemingly made a beeline towards him.

If one took a moment to read the small frown between Clyde's brows, they would quickly realize he wasn't too elated about having the woman anywhere near him.

"Infernia?" Clyde mumbled a sound of confusion before a memory clicked, "Oh, the underworld?"

He glanced at the strange woman giving him a curious stare. Over the period of their lengthy march from Neverna, he had long noticed the mage's unusual interest in him. But if one Ignored the probing and pointed stares she had been giving him over the course of the march this was his first real interaction with her.

Though he would very much have preferred to be left alone by the eccentric woman.

"Is there something I might be able to help you with, Miss Nai?" Clyde asked politely as she continued to silently observe him. Calmly turning his gaze back ahead, his eyes roamed, desperately searching for Sir Justin's figure.

He sincerely hoped the knight took no offense to 'his' mage's antics, as he was well aware of how unreasonable men could be in regard to the women who hold their affection.

The last thing Clyde needed now was a jealous man breathing down his neck in a cave filled with man-eating monsters. As for how he became aware of this budding affection when even Miss Nia herself seemed ignorant? Let's just say he was well-versed in reading people.

He had a Masters in human psychology after all…

"I was just curious," the woman said, causing Clyde to frown deeply.

'No shit, Sherlock!' he yelled inwardly, but his outward expression remained unchanged.

"Curious, Miss Nai?" Clyde asked. "I don't think there is anything about me that should manage to intrigue a person of your stature, lady mage…"

In response to his words, the woman chuckled warmly with a hint of a giggle. 'Stop it, dammit! Woman, are you trying to get me killed? Again!'

"You are a funny man, Clyde," she said with a small smile before falling silent and looking away to stare off into the distance.

Moments passed before she spoke again. "As I said, I was curious. I heard you once had the privilege of 'fraternizing' with a demon and walked away to tell the tale. Some even say you managed to somehow inherit the vile creature's memories. Would you mind enlightening me on this matter…"

The last part of her sentence wasn't a question.

Clyde sighed audibly in response. "It wasn't a demon, lady mage," he corrected, "It was just a minor ghoul."

"Little difference," Nai replied dismissively, "I take the fact you didn't deny inheriting the demon's memories as a silent agreement, no?"

"I did," Clyde sighed again as his eyes continued to search for Sir Justin. For some reason, the knight seemed to have disappeared, as Clyde couldn't find him anywhere. 'Hopefully, he stays away long enough for me to get rid of this troublesome woman.'

Turning his attention back to Miss Nai, Clyde realized she seemed to have fallen silent again for some reason.

"So again… I was curious," she asked, still calmly staring ahead. "Given you happened to have been enlightened in a way most haven't, what do you think a person's life is worth?"

"Pardon my ignorance, but I don't understand what you mean, lady mage."

Miss Nai just turned to calmly stare at Clyde. She seemed to be saying; 'I assure you that you don't want to make me repeat myself…'

Realising he couldn't avoid this, Clyde sighed ruefully before silently ruminating over her question.

"In a world without magic? Without mana, without the system, one could have argued about the paradoxical value of human life," Clyde began. "One could say life, as a set of experiences that are good, is what has value, and our capacity to have them is the intrinsic value of life. Our values of life come from our environment. The heaviest influences are our contacts in our daily life and the culture and society we live within. Hence, a life with a set of experiences that are bad could be said to be without value. Worthless.

"One could yet again say that human life is priceless. In a world without magic, no amount of goods or money equates to the value of a person's life. In short, human life can only be balanced against human life. Hence, invaluable…"

"In a world without magic?" Miss Nai asked, confused.

"Yes," Clyde nodded. "In such a world, once a life is lost it can never be regained, hence invaluable. But here in Ethania, Necromancers exist. At the will of Dante―the prince of Infernia, the God of the Underworld, Crime, and Commerce―the souls of the dead can be freed from the river Styx and brought back to life at a suitable price. Hence, a value figure has now been attached to human life.

"But this does not imply that all lives are of equal value, as some lives are worth more than others. Take mine, for example, compared to the Grand Duke what am I currently worth? A few copper coins on the slave market? Maybe a cart or two of minerals from the dungeon. It all depends on who is asking…"

"So you agree the lives of all of you here are worth nothing more than a few pounds of ore each?" Miss Nai asked, baffled by Clyde's reasoning.

"Personally, I feel the price of my life is not something anyone can simply quantify. But let's be realistic, I don't possess the strength to back those claims. In essence, my opinions in regard to the value of my life are worthless. So yes, the lives of we yeomen, currently, are only worth so much."

Silence.

"...What do you think my life would be worth?" The woman mumbled suddenly. Clyde glanced at her to realise the lively light in her eyes seemed to have dimmed greatly. A depressed aura hung around her form.

'Did I just give our Mage existential crisis?' Clyde asked himself with a strange expression as he looked around, only to see Sir Justin ride in with a person―a seemingly dead one―at the back of his horse.

"...Erm, I don't know, lady mage," Clyde replied, suddenly sweating buckets.

'Fuck…'

"Nevermind…" the woman said solemnly as she walked away with hunched shoulders.

'Not even a goodbye? How rude…'

Clyde shook the thought out of his mind as he realised Sir Justin raised a palm, addressing the entire group. The yeomen and squires all turned to stare curiously at the knight who alighted from his horse and started untying the corpse on the back of his horse.

Clyde was quick to note that the corpse wore the same clothing as the rest of the yeomen in the group.

"This man"―Sir Justin addressed the yeomen watching as he unceremoniously dumped the body on the floor―" was one of the fellows who, earlier, thought it would be a great idea to sneak out of camp in an act of desertion. I hope you learn from their mistakes and endeavor not to do the same."

Clyde shuffled closer to the corpse to see its face frozen in despair, eyes bulging in an animated expression. Glancing down to where the corpse's necklace should have been was a circular indent that went around the deceased fellow's neck.

It appears the necklace does work as advertised, Clyde mused, his left eye twitching from the absurdity of the scene.

Joining the remaining yeomen to gently caress the ornament around his neck, Clyde nodded as he reaffirmed certain decisions in his heart. For one, all plans to cuck Sir Justin would remain on hold…

Indefinitely.

Well, at least until he got rid of this necklace and discovered a way to escape the man's eventual wrath. Clyde might be a thrill-seeker, but he wasn't stupid or suicidal.

Giving one last glance to the desolate but beautiful Miss Nai in the distance, he shook his head helplessly.

"Ah… What a pity," he mumbled with a hint of regret and a predatory glint in his eyes, seemingly unaware of the consequences his words today to the woman would bring on the entirety of Ethania…

TCOB: CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Departure

The next morning…

Clyde stood in a queue with his fellow Yeomen as equipment and supplies were dispensed by a squire in front. He did not partake in his usual workout routine today.

Doing so would have been stupid as Sir Justin had warned the entire platoon of the long march that lay ahead of them today. The knight had also clearly instructed them to stay properly rested until the journey to their next destination commenced. He mentioned tolerating no slackers during the expedition today.

Diligent as always in maintaining an illusion of complete obedience and loyalty―as well as being considerate of his well-being―Clyde strictly followed the supervisor's instructions. Given he went to sleep an hour earlier than usual and immediately returned to his tent after his bath this morning, Clyde's usually aching body felt quite refreshed.

He soon arrived in front of the queue where he was handed a few items by the squire in charge. An iron helmet, a sheathed shortsword, a small leather bag, and a well-made gambeson.

Quietly, Clyde received his items before walking off to the side. With deft movements, he strapped the leather armour over his torso, adjusting it until it felt comfortable around his body. The gambeson was, in essence, a plain overall coat made of thick, alchemically treated leather. It had long sleeves that protected the arms up to the wrist, four woven straps that kept it firmly shut at the chest, and a leather belt that wound around the waist.

The armour was somewhat heavy for something so rudimentary, and while Clyde was certain it couldn't resist a determined attack, he still appreciated the extra protection. After all, little protection was better than no protection at all.

Mildly pleased with his new protective garment, Clyde turned his attention to the weapon he received. He hefted the sword in one hand as he tried to familiarise himself with its weight. Unsheathing the sword from its scabbard, Clyde examined the simple iron blade.

The weapon had no embellishes or marking, looking as generic and minimalistic as swords went. The polished grey metal gleamed in the morning light as Clyde gave it a few test swings. It was his first time wielding a real sword, hence he was somewhat excited.

Feeling his balance was slightly off, Clyde took a proper two-handed stance with his feet slightly apart. He swung the weapon again as he tried to sense its balance and, after a few tries, felt something click within his mind.

[You have gained experience]

A notification popped up in the corner of his vision.

"Oh," Clyde made a sound of pleasant surprise as he quickly opened his status to realise he gained a small increase of experience in his [Yeoman] class. It jumped from ninety-one to ninety-three.

Clyde swung a few more times but didn't receive another prompt. He wasn't too disappointed, though. This was a good sign. At least it confirmed his rather simple hunch about needing to gain practical experience to gain XP.

Feeling his odds, in regards to surviving for a bit longer, increase, Clyde smiled slightly as he opened the leather bag he was given. Inside was a small collection of items, ranging from a bundle of meat jerky and other dry rations to a small porcelain vial filled with possibly alchemical products. There was even a seemingly ornamental necklace inside, lying at the bottom of the bag. What was that for? He didn't have the faintest idea.

Seeing as the rest of his platoon had already been tidying up, Clyde shelved his curiosity as he immediately strapped his scabbard to his waist before wearing the leather bag across his chest like a fanny pack.

'There was no harm in having extra protection around my chest area for free.' With this thought, he bent over to pick his helmet from the floor by his feet and wore it just as Sir Justin and two others arrived.

"Good to see you are all settled!" the knight said smilingly as he cast his gaze across the men gathered. To his left stood another knight, similarly dressed as himself, while the woman at his right was decked in a dark, hooded cloak with a strange wooden staff in her hand.

"We will be departing in an hour alongside the platoon from Riverside Village," Sir Justin said before gesturing to the newcomers. "This here is Sir Dunice, the supervisor of the other platoon, while this lovely miss to my right is our accompanying mage, Miss Nai of Arundel."

The two just nodded slightly without their expression changing much. However, for some reason, Clyde felt the mage's deeply scrutinising gaze on his form. The way she looked at him made him feel exposed. Glancing at the offending woman, Clyde's cold stare met hers, and their gazes remained locked for a few moments before the woman suddenly looked away.

Clyde was confused. 'Why was she staring at me like that?' he wondered. He quickly dismissed the thought, however, as he turned his attention back to Sir Justin.

"Inside your bags is a small metal necklace," Sir Justin said. "Put it on."

The platoon, Clyde included, was confused, but nobody showed much resistance as they all wore the necklaces offered.

After confirming that everyone had their necklace on, Sir Justin turned to the mage before giving a faint nod. The woman, seemingly understanding him, raised her staff slightly as she began to chant some inaudible words. The air around her staff began twisting and swirling visibly for a moment before the bulbous end of the staff shone brightly.

With the light, Clyde suddenly felt his necklace move before contracting around his neck. The object didn't choke him, just slightly hugged his skin, so he wasn't too worried. If the knights wanted them dead without any real reason, they wouldn't have invested so much in them. Still, that didn't mean Clyde felt comfortable having squirming jewellery around his neck.

Not everyone was as calm as Clyde, though, with a large majority of the platoon falling into full-blown panic. As Clyde looked around, seeing his 'comrades in arms' flailing around as they tried to pry the necklaces off, he sighed. With a simple glance, he could see a faint amusement in the eyes of the knights and mage in front.

"Calm down, Maggots," Sir Justin drawled as his gaze panned over the men who had overreacted. Looking around, he easily spotted Clyde, who stood out like a sore thumb with his bland expression and calm eyes. Immediately, the knight shared a glance with his companions.

"Sir!" Baffled, Clyde called out, calmly raising one hand.

"Yes, Clyde?"

"What are these for?" Clyde asked as he tugged gently at the necklace on his neck.

Sir Justin paused in thought for a moment before replying. "You can think of it as a warning…"

The knight said before pulling out another necklace from his pocket. "Seize." Clyde heard him say, observing with an intrigued gaze as the metal rope shrunk until it resembled a ring around Sir Justin’s finger. More than a few men turned pale at the sight.

"Oh," Clyde nodded blandly, gently removing his hand from the object around his neck and flashing the most amicable smile he could muster at the supervisors present.

"I understand, sir…"

"I hope you all do," Sir Justin replied as he turned to leave.

…

An hour later, Clyde and over seventy other yeomen and squires departed from Neverna. The entire procession marched along behind the horses that carried the supervisors and supplies for the expedition with not a single man out of place.

Clyde glanced back at the barracks in the distance and could not help but feel uneasy.

Why?... he asked himself as he marched forward to confront his fate.

TCOB: CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Worth the time or effort

That evening, Sir Justin finally confirmed that Clyde's platoon and one other would depart on an expedition to clear a recently discovered dungeon breach.

No one was particularly surprised as word regarding the deployment had been floating around for quite a while, but hearing the confirmation still managed to sink the morale of the entire platoon… Not like there was much left amongst the men gathered in the first place.

Clyde wasn't particularly worried though as he laid on his bedroll, staring out the open tent at the risen moon. In fact, one could say he was somewhat relieved that they were finally going to do something progressive again. He was starting to feel he had reached a bottleneck in his training.

During the first few weeks, gaining experience in his new class,'Yeoman', was quite easy with even mild training. Back then, even simple training exercises with the sword could almost guarantee a small gain in experience. But recently, even with his best efforts Clyde's training appeared to be lagging behind the plans he had for himself. A fact which made him grow uneasy with each day seemingly wasted.

Every morning for the past seven weeks he would indulge in a private, gruelling self-imposed workout schedule before joining the rest of his platoon in their morning jog. Immediately after comes a chaotic duelling marathon which Sir Justin mentioned would help them adapt to fighting for extended periods.

Afterwards, the knight would give the platoon a short break during which they had their first meal for the day before resuming the training schedule, this time cycling through knife work and unarmed combat. Only in the evening when their bodies feel completely sore does the spartan training end. It is then the men receive another break and a chance at a second meal for the day.

At this point, it becomes a personal choice for each man whether or not to address the issue of their personal hygiene. A decision Clyde still strongly believed should rest in the hands of the supervisor.

There are no other breaks except on the weekends Sir Justin provides them with theoretical knowledge on the other topics pertaining to dungeon delving such as appropriate recon tactics and how to deal with what is commonly referred to as 'tides'.

Yet despite all this, Clyde could tangibly feel his training stagnate. It was almost as if the system was urging him to gain some real-life experience before rewarding him with the XP he had been working so desperately for.

Clyde sighed as he called up his status screen.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 20

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class(main) -

Yeoman:

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 91/100

Class(sub) -

Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice]):

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Archer(Peasant[Novice]):

Lvl:1/10

XP: 7/100

Base attributes:

HP: 100/100

MP: 7.9/7.9

STA: 53/172

STATS:

STR: 29.7

AGI: 14.2(+2.84)

DEX: 15.5(+2.5)

INT: 55.7

DEF: 1(+0.5: FEET)(-1)

PRE: 17.4(+3.48)(+3.48)

CHA: 24.1(-4)(-0.4)(-0.4)(-0.2)

Class Skills:

~Yeoman

Basic swordsmanship(Two-handed style) Lvl 9

Basic knife work Lvl 7

Basic unarmed combat Lvl 7

Basic reconnaissance Lvl 2

Battlefield synergy Lvl 4

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Farming - Lvl 8

Foraging - Lvl 9

Hunting - Lvl 4

Fishing - Lvl 4

Basic Crafting - Lvl 7

Basic Culinary - Lvl 4

~Archer(Peasant[Novice])

Steady aim - Lvl 4

Lesser Night vision - Lvl 3

Lesser Target identification - Lvl 2

Lesser Ballistics sense - Lvl 2

Lesser Range finding - Lvl 3

Lesser Lead correction - Lvl 1

Lesser Motion tracking and detection - Lvl 1

Lesser Spatial sense - Lvl 7

Class Attributes:

~ Yeoman

Lesser Battlefield Sense - 20% increase in perception and agility on the battlefield

Soldier's Vigour - Stamina drain is reduced by 30% once Stamina drops below 70%. This attribute is stackable with other attributes or buffs with similar effect.

Class Penalties: -4 INT

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Hunger Resistance - Hunger status is delayed for 36 hours after a full meal. Continuous activation of attribute for more than two weeks without three days of satiation in between will trigger the Starvation Status(All stats will drop at a rate of 20% per every three-and-a-half days until status is lifted.

Hardy Folk - Stamina drain is reduced by 20% once Stamina drops below 50%. This attribute is stackable with other attributes or buffs with similar effect.

Class Penalties: -4 CHA

~ Archer(Peasant[Novice])

Sticky Fingers - Dexterity is increased by 20%. Effect is lifted if stamina drops below 70%.

Keen eyes - Perception is increased by 20%.

Class Penalties: -1 DEF

Items:

Coarse cotton shirt: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.8/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Coarse cotton hoses: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.7/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather sandals: Aerates the body. Protects feet. +0.1% heat resistance. +0.5 DEF: FEET. -0.2 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.5/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather pouch: Storage device; 2 iron coins. 1 large walnut(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment:

|Stone knife| (x2)

+5 base damage

STA drain penalty; 0.1pts/min when in combat

Conditions of use; None

Special effect; inflict bleed status between 0.1~1pts/min per every registered effective damage

Weight; 3

Durability: 2/2

Cost; N/A

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

As he glanced through the screen he realised nothing much had changed. The screen remained the same as it had been for the last four days.

'Ai…' Clyde sighed again. Frustrated, he snuggled deeper into his bedroll and closed his eyes to sleep. I really need to find something to kill soon or I might just run mad from anxiety…

…

Sir Justin soberly stood outside the barracks as he stared at the sky above. Twilight arrived as a woollen dove-grey sky, stained velvet at its edges that stretched until land met sky.

The knight, finding momentary solace in his trance, watched birds depart for their nightly perches. Time passed, enough to steal the last fragments of the daylight and welcome the night.

"Nervous?" a voice asked from behind him.

"No," Sir Justin replied mildly without turning back as he recognised the voice. "Maybe a little? It is my first delve as the leader after all."

"I know. That's why I came," the voice said, arriving in the form of a young woman dressed in a dark hooded cloak over a black dress with a strange wooden staff in her palm. Even in the dim lighting, her beauty was clear. Supple cheeks formed a tiny dimple as she smiled, her greyish irises appeared obsidian in the dark and a pair of soft lips that just begged to be seized and swallowed whole.

She was beautiful, so much so that the scar that extended vertically over her left eye only served to accentuate her beauty rather than diminish it.

Sir Justin's breath snagged slightly as he set his gaze on Nai's face. Forcibly regaining his composure he looked back to the gloomy sky. "Thank you for coming. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Flounder helplessly?" she replied with a faintly cheeky smile to which the knight chuckled. Their conversation dwindled into a calm silence.

"I don't know how to feel about all this though now that I am so deeply involved," Nai said, suddenly breaking the silence. "I had never really considered this before, but is sending innocents like this to the meat grinder with only a few weeks of training… not dreadfully cruel?"

"It is," Sir Justin replied blandly as he turned his gaze to the townsfolk in the distance. "It is also true that their sacrifices allow the rest of the world to be able to maintain some semblance of order in their lives. Ethania is a shitty place, Nai. We need people like them to keep all the bad stuff clogged off in those dungeons. That's the only way everyone else―including you and I―can live relatively normal lives."

Nai frowned slightly upon hearing his calloused words but didn't refute them. There was some truth in them after all.

Sir Justin chuckled lightly upon noticing her pouting frown. "Don't work yourself up so much. There is some good in all this for the men involved."

"Yeah," Nai huffed, "If they live long enough to come back that is…"

Sir Justin just shook his head with a small smile. Then he spoke.

"You see there is this man amongst the yeomen in my charge. His name is Clyde but everyone here just refers to him as the demon whisperer."

"That sounds ominous…"

Sir Justin just smiled. "Rumour is he was caught fraternising with infernals and got beaten half to death by his village lord. Apparently, he has been behaving rather strangely ever since.

Although quite introverted, the man was a remarkable fighter―the best of this set by an absurd margin. And while he doesn't display much, he is also frighteningly intelligent, more so than even your average squire.

More than a few men suspect he still receives aid from his demonic associates."

"Well, does he?" Nai asked with a frown.

"Not exactly. Listen, let me finish," The knight replied soothingly. "I did a bit of research into his past. While he was possessed once, he was exorcised by priest Jeriah himself. I also spoke with his previous lord over the past few weeks and it appears the young man might have inherited some of the memories left behind by the ghoul that possessed him. While this might be a wholly unsuitable example, his scenario shows what is achievable by these peasants if they have the right skills, opportunities or mindset. If by some chance he survives his first few delves, I can assure you that even without a demon's memories that man would eventually achieve nobility via the sheer force of his diligence and hard work alone."

Sir Justin looked away from the sky. "While to most this is a death sentence, it is also a great opportunity for a few lucky ones to completely rewrite their fate."

The two fell silent.

"But aren't you looking at things too objectively?" Nia said at last. "I understand your point but how many really end up that lucky."

"A very tiny percentage," Sir Justin admitted. "But I want you to ask yourself if there is truly another way to maintain this cloak of normalcy. If not, then there is no point worrying about others. The life of cannon fodder just isn't worth the time or effort."

TCOB: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Training Montage

Neverna,

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

Nine weeks later…

It was common knowledge that the world was at its darkest just a few hours before dawn. Sombre shadows stalked a mostly empty field. The golden hue of the rising sun stained the horizon crimson as dark, gloomy clouds drifted lazily in the gentle late summer breeze, carefree and unrestrained.

It was a quiet morning in the town of Neverna. The willowy tune of the travelling winds meandered across the town, ushering in the soothing awakening of dawn.

In an open field, a figure—muscular and bare-chested with faint scars crisscrossing his back—laid prone on a patch of open soil amongst the dry grass as he rhythmically cycled through push-ups. Clyde's gaze held no emotion—stoic—as he performed his daily morning routine.

In the distance, two men stood watching him silently. Common guards, given the poor quality of their leather armour. Whispering to himself, Clyde ignored the individuals who stood observant in the highly unlikely scenario he might attempt to escape.

"two hundred and forty-seven," Clyde gasped slightly with each cycle. "two hundred and forty-eight, two hundred and forty-nine, two hundred and fifty!"

With a relieved sigh, he collapsed onto the floor, sand and bits of dried grass sticking to his sweaty skin. With another heave, he pushed himself to his feet before walking back into the portion of the field that had long been converted into a rudimentary barracks.

The possibly once grassy floor of the barracks' compound had been stamped bare over years of use. From what Clyde heard, the location had stood since the inception of Neverna itself to train yeomen(cannon fodder) who would later be sent alongside the better-skilled squires and knights on dungeon-delving expeditions.

As such endeavours were usually lengthy affairs that tend to last weeks―involving the securing, exploitation and magical rehabilitation of underground caverns filled with man-eating creatures―there is a constant demand for the required manpower, hence the creation of the barracks and its other training facilities.

Lines of linen tents dotted the wood-fenced compound. Clyde looked around to see a few of his fellow yeomen already awake and up to one thing or the other. Shaking his head as his gaze met more than one despairing stare, Clyde walked away towards his tent. A gloomy aura hung in the camp as rumours had been going around since a week ago that their first expedition would commence sometime during the next few days.

Pathetic, Clyde mumbled as he arrived at his tent. He was disappointed to see these men had already consigned themselves to a self-imposed fate without even first seeing what laid ahead.

He glanced inside to see his three 'roommates' still lying on their woollen bedrolls. One seemed to still be asleep, while the other two were clearly awake. The older of the two, a man seemingly in his late thirties, stared at the ceiling with a blank look and dark circles under his eyes―just as Clyde had awoken to see him an hour earlier. The other one―possibly to be in his late teens with a head of curly brown locks―curled up on his side where he sobbed mutedly.

Clyde didn't say a word to either one of the two. Without giving them another glance, he pulled out a wooden pail filled with water from the side of the tent before leaving. Returning outside the barracks, he glanced around to see no one in the fields yet with a small sigh he walked off to a suitable place where he fully undressed and began to wash his body clean of dirt.

It wasn't like he had no intentions of escaping. It was just that the risks were simply too high. Sir Justin wasn't jesting when he mentioned a few men would be flayed alive for attempting desertion. A few did try, but none succeeded. If Clyde listened hard enough, he probably would still be able to hear their screams from that day.

He wasn't a fool, nor was he suicidal. There was no way he would believe he could escape from a containment as old as the town itself that had been built almost specifically to hold individuals such as himself. There was also the issue regarding that weird status with the system.

Something about receiving bad karma?

Clyde wasn't certain, but it seemed like the system was deliberately targeting him. He asked around―at least from those who wouldn't immediately shoo him off for 'fraternising with demons'―only to discover his condition was quite special. At the very least, it appeared no one else had been stupid enough to curse an entity who had mind-reading abilities AND the power to decide their fate.

With another sigh, Clyde washed himself clean before returning to his tent. There he saw a squire walking around the tents while ringing a gong. He quickly dropped the empty pail before joining other members of his platoon to run laps in the field outside.

"Move maggots! Move!" Sir Justin yelled as he walked up to stand by the side. His stern gaze counted as all twenty-nine remaining members from Longboat village joined the exercise.

One of the villagers had been stupid enough to try fleeing during the second week.

He didn't make it past this very field before an errant arrow crippled his right leg. The man was flayed alive the next morning before the entire barracks.

"I said move it, dammit!" Sir Justin shouted to one fellow who groggily lagged behind. Clyde was starting to understand why the mortality rate for yeomen dungeon delvers was so high.

Forty laps later, without even being given a chance to rest, squires thrust wooden swords into the hands of every man gathered before they were paired up by Sir Justin. Standing in front of Clyde was a larger-sized man with a cruel scar across his nose bridge.

"Start!"

CLANK!

Immediately upon hearing Sir Justin's shout both men struck, their weapons colliding with a heavy clatter. The larger fellow attempted to forcibly parry Clyde's weapon, but Clyde just slid smoothly out of the engagement before reinvesting with another cleave.

Clyde's attack was blocked and his opponent reattempted another parry, this time succeeding in leaving Clyde's torso open to the stab that came immediately afterwards. Clyde responded by leaning back, downwards, as he narrowly avoided the attack.

With a bit of footwork, he immediately regained his balance, but the larger man was still pushing the assault. Another cleave descended towards Clyde's head and once more, he narrowly pranced out of the weapon's range. A glint shone in Clyde's eye as he faked out missing his steps, luring his opponent to attempt a follow-up, only to overextend and lean off balance.

Seeing his chance, Clyde abruptly crouched before pouncing, ramming into his opponent's torso shoulder first. Taking a sharp intake of air in response to the sudden pain in his ribcage, the larger man stumbled backwards, only to look up and see Clyde cleaving his weapon in a wide, sideways arc towards his head.

THUNK!

The former inspector was ruthless. As he glanced down, he saw the side of his opponent's face swelling and turning purple where his sword struck. His opponent didn't move much, barely twitching, but Clyde wasn't too surprised. He fully expected that strike to knock the man unconscious.

Looking away from his opponent, he glanced towards Sir Justin, who silently observed his fight from a distance. An approving glint shone in the knight's gaze as he gestured with his chin towards another individual who also happened to have ended his fight.

Clyde turned to look at his new opponent, but the fellow didn't seem to be looking at him but at the unconscious man at Clyde's foot. A second later, the fellow looked up to meet Clyde's gaze, gulping. He took a few subconscious steps back in fear before steadying his steps.

"He is just a man, no need to be scared," the fellow seemed to recite to himself. He repeated these words like a mantra. Over and over again…

A minute later, Clyde moved on to meet his next opponent, leaving another unconscious man in his wake.

TCOB: CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CONSCRIPTED

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

The next day…

Once again, Clyde stared at the morning sky, reconsidering his life choices from where he sat on the same farm cart as earlier. His exposed torso was covered in bruises and a thick herbal scent wafted off his body.

Clyde still couldn't fully understand what happened the day before. Despite resolving his heart and expecting to be executed when his plan to subdue Sir Tuile with the promise of glory and power fell through, he somehow was still alive. Although he was publicly beaten to the very edge of death a few times―as his health dropped to eleven at one point―the yeomen would decisively stop to allow his health to recover slightly before they continued. It was almost as if they were afraid of accidentally killing him.

The experience was harrowing for someone who had never been so abused in either of his lifetimes. Surprisingly though, Binny seemed to have forgiven him for trying to steal Maggie and almost implicating her family in his debacle. While in hindsight this fact doesn't matter much since the family wasn't going to lose much whether he succeeded in escaping or not, Clyde still appreciated the fact that she went out of her way to concoct an herbal solution to help with his injuries.

The lovely woman also volunteered Maggie to cart him away so he wouldn't have to trek to Neverna while being so heavily bruised. He almost couldn't believe she let him near the animal again given the number of incidents involving just the both of them over the past week.

Clyde might be a terrible person, but he was also one who knew the value of repaying favours. If a chance to aid her ever appeared in future without sacrificing too much he would be sure to take it.

He silently observed the men around him as his cart rocked and swayed upon the uneven dirt path. Under the supervision of a rather sizable group of yeomen, Clyde and twenty-nine other men were escorted to Neverna. From what Clyde gleaned from the solemn whispers of men around him, it appears they had all been indefinitely conscripted into the service of the baron of Neverna, Lord Gaeb.

***

When the group finally arrived at the town, the sun had already begun its descent back towards the horizon. Their arrival drew a lot of attention from the surrounding townsfolk given the size of their group, but no one appeared surprised, just mildly curious.

In the distance, Clyde could see two other similarly sized groups arriving at the town, hinting at the fact that they weren't the first to arrive. As they approached the lord's manor, Clyde saw a large group of men gathered outside in a field just outside the manor's stone walls.

With a heave and a pained gasp, Clyde alighted from the cart and joined the men walking towards the field. He had nothing on him except for the cloth on his back. Everything he had was confiscated by the men who supervised his punishment. From his grain to his bow and quiver full of arrows, all the way down to his small pouch containing only two iron coins, everything was taken away. Even the bags he crafted to carry fruits and nuts, as well as their contents, were not spared, as the soldiers made sure they stripped him clean of anything of value before sending him on his way.

Clyde wasn't too bothered by this though as he didn't truly value those things except as a means to an end. An end, which in a dangerous, and painfully roundabout way, he eventually achieved. His goal of seeking employment as a yeoman was underway, and while the fact he suspected―from Sir Tuile's words and the sobering whisperings of his fellow peasants―to be drafted only to serve as cannon fodder―a possibility that still bothered him greatly―he still considered himself somewhat lucky.

At least he had not been killed immediately and still probably had a few weeks ahead of himself to attempt to make some preparations for the worst.

Clyde shuffled along silently, wincing with every step as he followed his fellow villagers to stand in a portion of the fields. No one approached him where he sat, a few metres away from the rest of the group. In fact, the men seemed to be actively avoiding him. It appears a rumour had been going around that Clyde was caught fraternising with demons. Not that he minded. At least he had his peace.

…

Dusk…

Several hours went by as a few more groups arrived at the town to join the rest in the field. Clyde sat with his eyes closed, allowing the cool evening breeze to blow over his bare back. The paste Binny applied to his back seemed to contain some herbs similar to mint or eucalyptus as he felt the cooling sensation on his wounds amplify whenever the wind blew.

Bless that woman… Clyde moaned under his breath as he felt his nerves relaxed. He almost felt like he could fall asleep there and then. But as Clyde's consciousness began to wane. he heard a loud voice address his group.

"Get up, you maggots!" a man shouted. Clyde's eyes peered open as he looked around to see the villagers staring confusedly at a man standing in front. The fellow, appearing to be in his mid-twenties, was tall, standing at about five foot nine. His eyes were a lighter shade of amber than Clyde's and he had a head of dark brown hair. Overall, he was very handsome and possessed a fit, muscular figure.

"I said, GET UP YOU MAGGOTS!" the handsome man―a knight if one judge's from the armour on his body and the disdain in his eyes―repeated in a louder tone. Startled by the implied aggression in his tone, several villagers shot to their feet; the ones who were slow on the uptake soon imitated their colleagues.

Despite his hurting body, Clyde had already begun to stand up from the moment the knight first spoke. It was not like he was unaware of what was going on. He had served in the military for some time in his previous lifetime, after all. If there was one thing he could indisputably say he learned during his service, it was to always obey the hierarchy. Doing that tends to result in you not receiving the short end of the stick and unduly suffering mistreatment.

It also provided an opportunity to appeal to one's superiors as well as the possibility of elevating one's status in the ranks. This was a method tried, tested and proven true during his time with the police. One which he fully intended on capitalizing on now.

It appeared his quick-wittedness was noticed as the knight gave a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the rest of the group.

"Can anyone tell me why you have been sent here?" the knight asked, casting his stern gaze across the men gathered. One villager raised a hand hesitantly, to which the knight immediately nodded. "You, speak."

"D-dungeon delving, m’lord? W-we are going to be sent to fight monsters?" the villager said, uncertain. He appeared to be hoping to have given the wrong answer.

He hadn't.

The knight nodded as the villager's expression turned despairing. "In a few weeks, you would all be sent underground into deep, dark caverns filled with monsters and other dangerous creatures. Many of you will die, many will return crippled, and a few more will be flayed alive for attempting desertion."

More than a few men flinched at those last words. The knight nodded as he observed the fearful expression on the faces of the men gathered.

"More than a few of you will not live past your first delve, there is no changing this fact. But there is hope," he said solemnly. "If you survive long enough to rack up some accomplishments you might even be bestowed with some minor title and can request to be redrawn from service… But this can only happen if you completely and absolutely obey my orders. No slacking, no two-facing, no insubordination. Only total obedience and loyalty. Any questions."

Silence…

"Good," the knight nodded. "You may all refer to me as Sir Justin as I will be the one supervising your martial training. From this moment forth you are all conscripted into the service of Lord Gaeb of Neverna.

"Do well and you just might live to see another year."

TCOB: CHAPTER TWELVE

Screwing Clyde

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

Morning…

Sir Tuile still couldn't believe that a mere peasant dared attempt to deceive him. Worse of all, he almost fell for it. If it weren't for that oddly well-timed draft and one keen-eyed guard, the hateful rat would have most definitely gotten away with making a fool out of him.

As he sat in the main hall of his modest home with Teil standing by his side, he listened to the accounts of the guards and villagers who had an inkling of information concerning the incident. Surprisingly, the more he was told, the deeper his bewilderment grew.

"So, you're telling me he was kicked in the head by a donkey, fell into a coma for a day, awoken and got possessed by a minor ghoul," Sir Tuile asked a peasant farmer named Lorin who happened to be a neighbour and friend to the criminal. "Afterwards, he was taken to Neverna by you and was exorcised by Priest Jeriah before attempting to run away from the village a week later with farmer Jen's donkey in his possession?"

"Yes, m’lord," Lorin replied from where he knelt.

"And you tried to stop him, but you were knocked unconscious in one blow?"

"Yes, milord."

Sir Tuile nodded in thought for a moment before turning his attention to the other peasant in the room. She was an attractive milkmaid who went by the name Binny. "Is what he said correct?" Tuile asked mildly.

"Yes, m’lord," the woman replied. She still appeared slightly shocked upon hearing about the incident.

"And you didn't know he was going to leave the village without permission?" Sir Tuile asked calmly.

"No, m’lord. Clyde only mentioned wanting to borrow Maggie for a day. He never brought up the topic of leaving the village."

"And he didn't tell you why he needed the donkey?"

"No, m’lord," the woman replied.

Sir Tuile frowned suspiciously. "Are you sure?" he asked calmly. "My men searched his hut only to inform me that he left a message behind about leaving his possessions in your husband's care in exchange for the donkey. Fishy, eh?"

The woman paled visibly at Sir Tuile's insinuations. "We weren't aware, m’lord!" she exclaimed pleadingly.

The village lord's frown deepened. She seems unaware… he mused to himself.

"Has he spoken?" Sir Tuile asked as a man walked into the hall.

"No, m’lord," the yeoman said as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Observing the guard, one of Tuile's brows rose. "What's the matter?"

"...Erm, he said he would like to have a word with you, m’lord," the yeoman replied hesitantly as he passed Clyde's message.

"Hmm?" Tuile was surprised. "A word?"

He glanced at Teil who stood beside him, surprise and confusion in his gaze.

"Take me to him," the village lord said

***

CRACK!

[You have suffered 0.7 effective damage]

[You have failed to resist]

CRACK!

[You have suffered 0.9 effective damage]

[You have failed to resist]

CRACK!

[You have suffered 0.5 effective damage]

[You have resisted]

Clyde hung shirtless from a tree just outside the village lord's residency. A length of thick hemp rope suspended him by his hands from a low-hanging branch as two yeomen took turns flogging his bare back with a whip.

His exposed back bled slightly, leaking small trickles of blood that soaked the edge of his trousers maroon. Clyde was in pain, but his gaze remained calm as he stared at the landed knight standing imposingly before him. By the older man's side was a knight Clyde 'remembered' as Teil, the lord's first son, and possibly, heir.

A tense silence hung in the air as Clyde and the village lord continued to stare at each other as they had for the last twenty minutes.

Clyde was aware of what the lord was playing at. Why wouldn't he? This was a common tactic used during his time with the police force when interrogating civilian suspects, albeit without the physical abuse. Wait out the conversation to deplete the suspect's psychological resistance to questioning and raise their inner tension with the sheer awkwardness of your silence before initiating an interrogation.

It is a simple, but highly effective technique. So much so, that some suspects have been known to confess to crimes their interrogators weren't even aware they had committed.

Despite himself, Clyde almost smiled as he observed the man standing before him. If one took only his previous age into account, this man wouldn't be any older than himself. Yet with only an inkling of the level of education, he received the lord―one from such a technologically backwards era―could still deploy such effective, albeit crude, tactics by sheer experience alone.

If there was anything at all Clyde would learn from this incident in an unlikely scenario in which he survives, it's not to ever, under any circumstances, believe himself superior intellectually to the residents of this world.

As Clyde reorganised his thoughts, Sir Tuile who appeared to believe it was time to begin his interrogation, spoke. "I must say… I am impressed," he said as he gestured to the whip-wielding yeomen to suspend the beating. "Your scheming mind has me doubting if you were even ever a peasant in the first place."

"I am honoured by your words, my lord," Clyde replied, stifling a pained gasp. "Sadly, I must argue otherwise, lest I deceive your lordship once more. Both my parents were no more than common peasants…"

"I heard," Sr Tuile replied as he very obviously probed Clyde's bland expression with a calm stare. "Your mother died during childbirth and your father went missing during a dungeon-delving expedition five years ago. Possibly dead…"

"Yes, my lord," Clyde replied. He didn't feign fear like he did during his last conversation with the village lord. Such behaviour would fail to have the intended effect at this point and, hence pointless. Instead, he spoke calmly, as one would to a superior identity.

Hearing his calm reply, the village lord's frown grew. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were possessed," Sir Tuile said with a calmly implied threat.

"I was," Clyde shot back. "It was an enlightening yet dreadful experience. I am glad the priest showed mercy by exorcising the demon without destroying the memories it left behind."

Both men squared off tranquil gazes, a scheme and a half in every word uttered.

"Hmm… Intriguing," Sir Tuile said, a glint in his eyes. "But no matter, you requested an audience with me. Here I was thinking you would provide me a valid reason not to immediately order your head lopped off, yet I was met with mocking silence. I must say, you are a daring one, boy."

"I lack the guts to speak without your permission, your lordship," Clyde replied smoothly, to which the village lord squinted.

"Then tell me," Tuile said mockingly, "were you going to offer to serve me with these 'memories' you inherited from the demon in exchange for your life? To pay for your many sins and transgression with a servitude that would help me elevate my noble lineage? To grant me power my forefathers have yet to experience, huh?"

"So, I am guessing there is no price to pay for your leniency, my lord?" Clyde ventured. Sir Tuile's smile remained with its faintly mocking quality.

Ignoring Clyde's question, the village lord turned to Teil who had been keenly observing their conversation from beginning to end. An enlightened light glinted in the young man's eyes. "Gather the villagers and organise a public beating for this man until the remaining twenty-nine men we are sending to Lord Gaeb have been selected and ready to leave."

The village lord turned his attention back to Clyde, who hung, confused. "To be honest, I am a bit tempted," Tuile said. "Who wouldn't be? You just implied to offer me the wisdom of a demon that turned a mere peasant like you into such a dreadful schemer. Sadly for you, I am not so foolish as to believe I can control an entity such as yourself."

The knight shook his head regretfully before turning to leave.

"Rejoice though, as your life is still of some use to me, hence you might live a few weeks longer. Not like it matters. I have personally witnessed dungeons claim the lives of people far more powerful and resourceful than yourself. Either way, you die in the end. If by some chance you survive what's in store for you, maybe then we can sit together and have a proper conversation over a bottle of aged wine… as equals. Till then, goodbye."

With those words Sir Tuile departed, leaving Clyde with a multitude of questions bubbling in his heart, as well as relief. He still wasn't sure, but the transmigrator was happy to have survived this ordeal.

He should be elated, yet for some reason, Clyde felt unnerved by Sir Tuile's last words. He almost felt as if the man had screwed him over.

Well, only time will tell…

TCOB: CHAPTER ELEVEN

A hair's breadth

Sir Tuile Longboat stared at the peasant in front of him with a faint frown. Something about this fellow unnerved him. The jaded aristocrat had long perfected the art of reading people―yet for some reason, the young man in front of him felt like an enigma.

Although the peasant grovelled pathetically before him, there was a superior aura about his form. Partially hidden under a shawl, his immature expression was one of awe, but there was something about his eyes that couldn't lie; those tranquil orbs reflected only calmness. As if everything still remained within the great expanse of his control.

"What is your name?" Sir Tuile asked, unnerved. Despite the great disparity in power, the longer he stared at this youth who wouldn't be any older than his son, the older knight felt like he was facing an equal…

Or even possibly, a superior of some sort.

"T-timothy, my lord," the peasant boy replied with a stammer. Tuile's frown grew deeper as the feeling of discomfort in his heart inflated.

"Where are you from?" he asked as he watched the fellow's expression for a crack. A flaw. A sign. Anything to relieve the unease growing in his heart. Nothing appeared.

"N-neverna, m’lord," the boy replied with another stammer before opening one of the crude bags on his shoulder. The leather sack was filled to the brim with a few herbs Tuile struggled to identify. "My madam sent me over to buy some herbs and fruits from Longboat village."

Suspicious… Tuile mused thoughtfully.

"There are other villages closer to Neverna where herbs could be purchased. Needing to come this far for mere herbs seems out of place, right?" Said Tuile as he projected his suspicions towards his son who had arrived to stand beside him. Teil nodded soberly as he seemed to agree with the assessment.

Hearing words of doubts being shone on his argument made the peasant boy squirm slightly in fear… discomfort?

"Why are you here boy?" Tuile asked as he raised his blade to the peasant's neck. The boy froze and began stammering in fear… Yet his eyes remained too calm.

"I-I…"

"Can't you speak boy?" Tuile growled threateningly to which the boy immediately collapsed, sobbing.

"F-forgive me, my lord," he said through tears, "I came to see a girl. Enna."

"Girl?" Sir Tuile asked, baffled, "I thought your madam sent you to buy herbs? You dare lie to me, boy?"

"I wouldn't dare, my lord!" the boy exclaimed through a sob. "My madam did send me to buy herbs. It's just…"

"Just?"

"...She didn't say which village I should buy from…" he said trailing off, seeming ashamed.

Sir Tuile continued to stare at the boy for a moment longer, gradually feeling conflicted. His intuition told him something was wrong, yet common sense said otherwise. Clearly, this was just a simple case of misplaced teenage affection. The boy liked a girl and took a great risk to meet her. It was unsurprising to Tuile, as even his son Teil had his fair share of similar excesses…

Yet why? Sir Tuile asked himself as the feeling in his heart refused to subside. Pushing down his unease, Sir Tuile glanced at the donkey behind the boy, the nervous animal was laden with sacks, possibly herbs. What did his madam want with so much herbs? It wasn't Tuile's concern. Nobles could be weird sometimes, so it would be best to leave things be than antagonise some unknown lady for no good reason.

Settling his heart, Sir Tuile turned back to the boy who remained grovelling at his feet.

"Lend me your ass."

"Huh?" The peasant's grovelling expression cleared up immediately as he subconsciously shuffled a metre back. For once, his eyes seemed to reflect genuine fear… and a hint of disgust.

"Huh?" Tuile looked around in confusion to see a few of his guards looking away dreadfully. Even Teil had an expression of mild surprise on his face, but he didn't seem too shocked at his father's statement.

Clearing his throat, Tuile clarified in a dignified manner. "Lend me your donkey to pull my carriage out of this ditch." The older knight watched with an annoyed frown as the peasant boy breathed out an air of relief.

As if I would ask you to lend me your ass if I ever needed it. These peasants fail to know their place.

"Yes, my lord," the boy replied at last, relief evident in his tone. With deft movements, he quickly tethered the animal to the carriage before joining the men pushing the vehicle out.

Half a minute later, the carriage was dislodged and the boy began to untether his donkey.

Giving the peasant boy one last glance, Sir Tuile waved dismissively. "You are free to go."

"Thank you, my lord," he said with a bow before turning to leave.

Tuile still felt uneasy but he suppressed the feeling. Everything was settled easily. Nothing went wrong, right? I am just being paranoid.

Just as the older knight was reflecting, a strong draft blew, rustling the leaves in the woods around as well as carrying a bit of filth into his eyes.

Shit, he swore as he rubbed the dirt out of his eyes. But just as he was about to urge Teil to drive the horse regardless, he heard a baffled exclamation behind him.

"C-clyde?!"

Turning around, Tuile saw one of his yeomen staring at the peasant boy with shock in his eyes. The peasant's shawl appeared to have been blown away by the wind, fully exposing his rather handsome features.

The peasant boy calmly stared at the fellow who shouted before glancing around at the rest of his men, a few of whom seemed to recognise him.

The boy shook his head with an audible sigh before glancing up at the moonlit sky.

"Fuck." he swore out loud.

TCOB: CHAPTER TEN

You have bad karma… Life will become hard for you.

“Ah…”

Clyde exhaled, a hint of irritation bubbling within him. It was a mostly peaceful night, only the sound of singing crickets hidden in the vegetation disrupting the tranquil solitude.

The faint moonlight only barely allowed Clyde to make out Lorin's features in the darkness. The peasant farmer stood a few metres away from him, blocking the path.

I was hoping to avoid this… Clyde mumbled as he dropped the items he held.

"Your silence is worrying, Clyde," Lorin said, ignorant of Clyde's rising annoyance, "I am going to find the constables…".

"Wait," Clyde finally called out with a solemn sigh. Shaking his head helplessly, he walked towards Lorin. "Are you sure you want to do that, Lorin? Don't be unreasonable. Surely, there must be a reason for me to want to just leave everything behind and disappear, right?"

Lorin paused his steps, feeling Clyde pull on his right shoulder. A baffled expression crossed his face. "Then tell me, why?" he asked, his tone worried.

But surprisingly, as he turned back to face Clyde, he was met with a cold, emotionless stare. Clyde's eyes were like tranquil pools of still water.

"You should have minded your own business…" Clyde muttered ominously. Only then did Lorin realise the dangers of his folly.

"Huh―" the peasant farmer made a sound of confusion, his eyes widening exaggeratedly as he attempted to backpedal away from his neighbour; a futile effort.

Clyde's right arm cocked back in one fluid motion before punching towards Lorin's forehead. His form was somewhat clumsy due to the many discrepancies between his new body and old, but under the influence of past experiences and cultivated instincts, the blow held true.

With a dull thud, Clyde's fist struck. Lorin stumbled backwards for a few metres before keeling over, unconscious.

[You have dealt 21.7 base damage | You have inflicted 19.6 effective damage]

[You have inflicted a knockout blow | You have inflicted comatose(temp.) status | Status effect induced]

[You have suffered 0.9 recoil damage | You have failed to resist]

'Annoying…' mumbled Clyde. It was unknown whether he was referring to the unconscious Lorin, his new body or the throbbing pain in his fist. Glancing around once to confirm no one else was in the vicinity, Clyde gave one last dismissive glance to the unconscious Lorin before walking back to the startled donkey.

After taking a few moments to calm the creature down, he proceeded to flee the village.

***

The outskirts of Longboat village

Loue Province - Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

A procession of armed men escorted a loaded carriage towards the village. A group of five yeomen and three squires marched solemnly alongside the vehicle, which was being pulled by two horses. Seated on the carriage were two knights having a solemn discussion.

"But isn't the lord asking for too much?" The younger of the two said with a hint of resentment in his voice. "The village's total population barely caps a hundred and fifty. Telling us to provide thirty men to supplement the dungeon-delving effort is basically asking the village to cripple itself. Everyone knows only two-thirds of the yeomen who are sent under make it back in one piece. And in some cases, none at all."

"We have little say on this matter, Teil," the older knight sighed as he leaned back into his seat on the carriage to stare up at the night sky. "To be honest, we should be glad Lord Gaeb even bothered providing us with this much compensation. I heard from Sir Lorne that Logger was instructed to provide forty men and only received three bags of grain for their effort."

"Isn't Logger smaller than our village?" Teil asked, baffled.

"It is," the older man nodded solemnly. "Word is, Lord Turiel's spawn unknowingly got in a fight with the Lord's heir over a merchant's daughter. Now the people of Logger are going to pay the price for his folly."

The conversation simmered into a sober silence for several seconds before Teil spoke again.

"...That's dreadful," the younger man said with a faint shiver.

"It is."

"The breaches have started to get worrying," Teil mumbled with a sigh as he changed the subject uncomfortably, his expression solemn. "Wasn't the last one just a month ago? Usually, dungeon breaches are about five months apart, right? Why the sudden increase in intensity?"

"I don't know, son," the older knight replied as he stared up at the moonlit sky. "The baron mentioned that the capital sent news stating that the frequency of breaches would increase to about two a month in the coming months. It is for this reason we can do nothing but accept Gaeb’s rather unreasonable demands. Ignoring a warning from the Mage's tower is utter foolishness and going against the Gaeb’s decree is tantamount to rebelling against the grand duke himself. We have no choice in the matter."

The older knight sighed again. "The coming months would be tedious at best," he said, sombre. "A great calamity is festering and soldiers would have to be groomed to face it. Many will die before the year is over and there is little we can do to avoid―"

THUD!

The carriage shuddered as it abruptly came to a halt.

"What happened?!" the older man asked, startled but mostly annoyed. He looked to the side of the carriage to see it was angled precariously into a ditch at the side of the road.

"We slid off the trail, milord!" One yeoman called back as he bent over to examine the accident. "A wheel is stuck, sir!"

The older knight frowned as he glanced at the wheel in question. Mud? the knight thought suspiciously, in the summer? There hasn’t been rain for weeks!

The suspicion in his heart grew stronger as he turned to Teil, who was urging the horse to pull, but to no avail. The carriage was stuck.

"On guard!" the knight ordered as he got down from the carriage and unsheathed his sword. The rest of the group quickly became alerted seeing the older knight's behaviour and also unsheathed their weapons.

"Should we unload the goods, m’lord," one yeoman asked as two of his brethren attempted to push the carriage out of the ditch, albeit unsuccessfully.

The knight thought for a moment but shook his head. "No," he replied as his heart grew uneasy. 'Was this really an accident?' he thought to himself. Experience had long taught him to think otherwise.

Just as he was about to give further instructions he noticed a figure approaching in the darkness.

"Stop right there!" he ordered the approaching individual.

There was a brief pause as both sides observed each other silently. The stalemate didn't last long though as the figure seemed to unfreeze as they backed away slowly.

"I said stop!" the older knight shouted again. There was another pause before the figure did stop as they raised both hands above their head.

As the older knight peered at the figure, two yeomen quickly approached the individual while holding torches. Under the crimson illumination, he could now make out the image of a peasant youth with a nervous donkey in his wake.

As his men brought the peasant closer, the older knight could now properly make out his features. Dark chin-length hair, a somewhat freckled face and amber-coloured eyes that glowed reddish-gold under the light of the lit torches.

For some reason, a crude wooden bow and leather quiver hung on his shoulder.

"How may I be of service, my lord," the youth asked calmly as fell to his knees.

…

Earlier.

Clyde crouched by Maggie the donkey as he watched a pair of yeomen walk away in the distance. The duo weren't doing a great job at patrolling the village outskirts; just as Clyde had predicted.

From his inherited memories, Clyde had learnt that Loue Province was a relatively peaceful place. Neighbouring nobles avoided engaging in open conflicts, bandits were heavily outlawed, killed on sight, and the entire region was just prosperous enough to not draw unwanted attention; good enough to get by, but not enough to warrant incursions from possible rivals.

In fact, the region was so peaceful that Clyde has no memory of any major incident that resulted in unrest aside from the occasional dungeon breach and a few incredibly stupid bandit packs. Hence, as expected the forces of this region had grown complacent. From the viscount at the top down to the common peasant soldiers, a lackadaisical attitude towards security festered.

Sneaking out of the village was easy enough if one ignored Lorin's stint. Clyde had long been aware of his neighbour's suspicion. It couldn't be helped though, regardless of whether he had the previous Clyde's memories or not, it was impossible to perfectly replace him. Clyde the peasant farmer and Clyde Kim Seong-ho were two vastly different people; hence, anyone who knew either for any given length of time would easily be able to tell the difference.

As for attempting to blend in using the previous Clyde's memories? Kim knew it would be an inefficient waste of time, hence, he didn't bother.

It was fine though as he didn't have any plans of returning here soon, if even at all. Bridges could and would be burnt without any regard. It was more efficient that way.

Clyde led the donkey down the path to Neverna, his first stop. As the village was at the outskirts of the Grand Duchy of Ashcol, going in the opposite direction would take him across the bandit-infested border into the kingdom of Lorne, a bad choice for a relatively defenceless farmer like himself.

The plan was, upon arrival at Neverna, he would collect information on the neighbouring villages and towns before committing to his next destination. Sadly, the village wasn't the best place to gather info, hence his next target after Neverna still largely remained a mystery to him. Though a proper town would definitely be preferable over a village in his opinion.

With only the sound of crickets and Maggie's breathing to fill the silence, Clyde traversed the darkness with his eyes peeled and ears opened.

His solitude didn't last long though as he soon noticed a rowdy group(possibly a merchant and his escort) ahead of him. The group remained stationary for some unknown reason.

Clyde stopped, hesitant about revealing himself. He looked around as he contemplated going around through the woods but quickly discarded the idea. Doing that ran the risk of running into dangerous wildlife or simply getting lost and losing valuable time. Inefficient.

He glanced back at the group before letting out a sigh. He had two choices. One, hide in the nearby bushes until the group sorted out whatever was preventing them from proceeding. Or he could just continue on his path and attempt to keep interactions to a minimum.

Clyde waited for a minute while observing them and soon realised they might not be going anywhere soon. The group seemed to have gotten their cargo stuck in a ditch and were still struggling to get it out.

Waiting for them to leave would cost a lot of time and time was a resource Clyde was currently short on. The village yeomen might soon discover his stunt and come searching for him.

So, with another sigh, Clyde urged the donkey to continue moving. Hopefully, they wouldn't bother me too much… Clyde mumbled as he walked towards the group. While most would keep to themselves, Clyde knew there would always be a few eccentrics amongst the population who loved to behave otherwise.

But as Clyde approached the group, he suddenly heard a shout.

"Stop right there!" a man waving a longsword threateningly said, seemingly toward Clyde.

Clyde froze for a few moments, shocked, before backing away slowly. Wtf… he muttered with a baffled frown on his face.

"I said stop!" the individual shouted again. Clyde considered his only other choice. Run away? Clyde instantly discarded the thought. He knew for a fact that even the weakest yeomen in the village ran faster than him. There was no way he could escape them if they decided to pursue.

So, with another sigh, Clyde raised his hands in the air in the hopes of calming the potentially dangerous individual. He watched two others approach him with lit torches in hand. As the duo got closer, he realised they were yeomen. For some reason, they felt stronger than the ones he managed to hoodwink back at the village.

Thankfully, I didn't delude myself that I could escape… Clyde mumbled as he watched them quickly close the distance with powerful strides. The pair soon arrived by his side to lead him towards the figure who demanded he stop.

It was then a few prompts appeared in the corner of Clyde's vision.

[You cursed the system | You have bad karma | Life will become hard for you…]

[Status cannot be lifted until rendered invalid | Status will remain valid until you repent]

What?... A cold chill ran down Clyde's spine.

As he approached the group, the features of the man who demanded he stop became visible.

Clyde's blood ran cold.

He recognised the knight from his many memories. Sir Tuile Longboat. The lord of Longboat village.

"..."

Clyde sighed…

Then he sighed again. With visible effort, he schooled his depressed expression into a neutral stare.

"How may I be of service, my lord," He asked calmly as he stared at the landed knight before him. An errant thought flashed through his mind.

Fuck…

I am screwed.

TCOB: CHAPTER NINE

And where do you think you are going... Clyde?

A week later…

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

It was midnight, and in a small field overrun by plump wheat stalks stood the shadowy figure of a man. He stood with his feet slightly under a foot apart as he drew back the twine of his bow.

THWACK!

With an audible recoil, the crude bow in Clyde's hand snapped back, releasing its payload. The arrow arced in the air for twenty metres before embedding itself in the trunk of a large tree.

[You have inflicted 66 base damage | You have inflicted 7.3 effective damage | You have inflicted 2 penetrative damage]

[Target has partially resisted]

[You have inflicted 1 penetrative damage | Damage effect induced]

[You have gained experience | You have unlocked a new class - Archer]

[Modifying new class to match the main class… | Modify success]

[You have gained the subclass - Archer(Peasant[novice])]

"What?" Clyde murmured incredibly as he opened his status.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Sub-class: Archer(Peasant[Novice])

…

~Archer(Peasant[Novice])

Steady aim - Lvl 4

Lesser Night vision - Lvl 2

Lesser Target identification - Lvl 2

Lesser Ballistics sense - Lvl 2

Lesser Range finding - Lvl 2

Lesser Lead correction - Lvl 1

Lesser Motion tracking and detection - Lvl 1

Lesser Spatial sense - Lvl 1

…

~ Archer(Peasant[Novice])

Sticky Fingers - Dexterity is increased by 20%. Effect is lifted if stamina drops below 70%.

Keen eyes - Perception is increased by 20%.

…

Equipment:

|Crude bow:

+5 base damage

STA drain penalty; 0.1pts/min on idle | 0.5 pts per shot

Conditions of use; None

Special effect; None

Weight; 5

Durability: 4.8/5

Cost; 4 small pouches of grain|

Clyde nodded briefly before he began appraising the other items.

|Crude leather Quiver(Storage):

Maximum capacity; 30 arrows(50% FULL)

Conditions of use; None

Special effect; None

Weight; 1

Durability; 2/2

'Cost; 1½ a small pouches of grain|

|Crude arrow(consumable):

+2 penetrative damage

Conditions of use; None

Special effect; Inflicts bleed status between 0.1~0.5pts/min per every registered effective damage

Weight; 0.2

Durability: 0.2/0.2

Cost; a handful of grain|

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

"Oh," Clyde said with a frown, "the bow's durability dropped again?"

Shaking his head, Clyde left the field to return to his hut. Although the thought of having to repair the weapon after every two days of use miffed him, Clyde was in too much of a good mood to get grumpy. The new class, his small increase in strength, dexterity, and perception, and a slew of new skills were enough to override his usually perpetual negativity. Even his defence falling by a point did not seem to bother him… at least not enough to be an issue.

Clyde could vaguely feel that he had grown a bit stronger. Over the past few days, he was somewhat hesitant about his choice of staying behind to get used to the feel of using the bow he crafted, but now he was glad he did.

Unlocking a new class was an unexpected boon for Clyde as he had no memories of doing so before. His only memories of the system's growth mechanic were of gaining experience every time the season of harvest arrived and he successfully brought in some crops.

"So, I can unlock new classes with practice and repetition," Clyde reasoned as he stepped into his hut. "As for experience, given the data I have, it seems the only way I can get those is by being productive."

Clyde dropped his bow and quiver by the work table before dropping into his bed.

"Farmers have to till the land, tend the farm, and then harvest," Clyde thought as he stared at the thatch ceiling. "Archers have to consistently(at least to some extent) hit and kill targets with their bows. Then soldiers? They might only be able to gain experience during conflicts?"

The thought lingered in Clyde's mind as he fell asleep.

…

The next day, Clyde walked down a dirt path as he entered another peasant's pasture. A few farm animals looked up from their grazing towards Clyde as he walked past.

"Hello, Binny," Clyde greeted politely as he stopped beside a woman milking a cow, 'how has your day been?"

"Fine, thank you," the peasant woman replied, turning around briefly to flash Clyde a warm smile. She spoke as tugged gently on the animal's udder. "Feeling better now?"

"I'll live," Clyde replied dismissively before looking around the farm, "Is Jen around?"

"No, he and the boys went to find Jeje. Somehow, the goat managed to force a hole in the fence and ran away again. Is there something you need?"

"I wanted to ask if I could borrow Maggie for a day?" Clyde replied, turning back to the woman. She appeared to be in her mid-late twenties with her light-brown hair tied in a messy bun and a slightly baggy grey dress that looked a bit worn for wear hanging from her shoulders. Despite the deplorable state of her dress though, her sizable buttocks and wide hips which curved out against the volume of her clothing managed to catch Clyde's attention.

He stared at the woman momentarily, trying and failing to stop himself. As he looked at her, he seemed to just discover that her faintly freckled face was more than pretty enough for a woman of her standing. And while her bust was just slightly above average, her lithe frame and wide hips more than made up for that.

Still, Clyde was confused as to why he even considered the probability of Binny's open sexuality. This wasn't the time or place for such casual devilry and Clyde was the one to believe in the virtue of restraint when necessary. Yet still, his subconscious mind was prodding him to make a move on the woman. It appeared his new body was still struggling with acclimating to its steadily rising testosterone levels.

Shaking his head mildly to clear his mind, Clyde drew a faint breath as he reminded himself of the possibility of a severe rejection or worse, her husband walking in on them. He couldn't risk his true purpose for coming here for some minor gains like getting laid.

Thankfully, he recovered just in time to see the woman turn to stare incredulously at him.

"You want Maggie? Again?"

"I promise I will be careful this time," Clyde replied without missing a beat.

The woman stared at him for a moment before shaking her head in disbelief. "You boys don't learn, do ya?" she murmured before waving him off. "Maggie's in the back. Try not to die this time."

"I won’t," Clyde replied before heading to move the animal.

A few minutes later, he returned to his farm with the donkey. Leaving the creature tied outside, he entered his hut and came out a moment later with a large knife in hand.

With a dull stare, Clyde examined the animals in his pen. After a few moments of deliberation, he selected a moderately sized sheep before taking it away.

[You have inflicted 66 base damage | You have inflicted 66 effective damage | You have inflicted lethal damage]

[Target has died]

Clyde stared at the notifications before turning to look at the knife he stabbed up the sheep's skull and sighed. "It appears I don't get experience for indiscriminately killing farm animals. Or do I need to unlock something like a [Butcher] class first?"

Clyde turned his gaze back to the animals in the distant pen, contemplating before he gave up the thought. It took a week of practice before he could unlock the [Archer] class. Who knows how long it would take to unlock [Butcher]… or how many animals he would need to kill. It wasn't worth the effort.

With another sigh, he began processing the slaughtered creature. By twilight, he had already turned a large portion of the sheep into strips of smoked meat, cleaned bones. He had also managed to extract a few sheets of raw leather and a pile of fleece from the animal’s corpse. Although he was somewhat reluctant to give up the bones, fleece, and leather, he decided to do so, as without processing both, they would just be useless burdens.

Carrying everything back in, Clyde began to pack up his supplies into a few hand-crafted leather bags before arranging those on the donkey outside. Leaving the fleece and a few non-essential items behind, like the farm hoe, Clyde picked up a piece of charcoal with the intent of leaving behind a message when he realised something crucial.

He was illiterate.

Well, he still remembered how to write Korean and English, but this region's written language, Morgar, was unknown to his predecessor, hence him. So, with another sigh, Clyde bent over and began drawing rough hieroglyphics that he hoped a layman could translate without too much problem.

'I took Maggie,' it read(somewhat?) 'Keep my hut, its contents, and livestock in exchange. Take care.'

Was Clyde feeling guilty? No. He just didn't want to give the village constables a valid reason to not come after him. By doing this, he reckoned(hoped) they probably wouldn't, given his memories of their overly complacent personalities.

So with another sigh, he led the donkey out…

Only to see Lorin standing in the path with his arms crossed as he stared disapprovingly at him.

"And where do you think you are going with farmer Jen's donkey, Clyde?"

TCOB: CHAPTER EIGHT

The Mage’s Circle… Pear?

The Tower of the Azorth

Eldar mountains,

Eris - Ethania.

…

The cavernous meeting hall was alive with the faint buzz of hushed whispers. The room was without doors or windows―only the faint glow of runes inscribed into the wall and a few floating magical orbs of light to provide illumination. In the centre of this cavern was a large pear-shaped table around which a number of figures dressed in hooded robes sat. But despite the heated whispers travelling around the room, an aura of solemnity hung in the air. A few mages looked tense as they conversed discreetly with their brethren.

Suddenly, out of thin air, three whirlpools of mana formed―twisting the fabric of space―as three more hooded figures walked out into the room.

"I want to believe everyone is here?" one of the new entrants asked in an airy tone as she―with an unsteady gait―walked towards the pointed end of the pear-shaped table to take her seat. Her frail fingers curled gently around the staff(walking stick) in her hands, revealing wrinkled skin hidden underneath her hooded robe. Although, the mage's whitened hair projected a feeling of ancientness, her clear eyes shone intelligently.

Watching as the group's whispering grew nonexistent after her question, the elder's eyes glinted contently. "I am sorry for the abrupt summons," she began with a standard apology, "I am sure I interrupted more than one revolutionary research at the cusp of completion with this stunt of mine, but we have something of a major problem on our hands. A few, if I reckon correctly."

"Thena, is this about the mysterious phenomenon that occurred a few days ago?" one of the mages asked, leaning onto the table with a dead-eyed look on his face. His gaze held a hint of impatience. "I thought we had already confirmed that the rends were just a result of Tyrone experiencing another childish outburst? Do we really need to get involved in this matter? A large majority of the scars have already healed, and the rest too would with time… right? Even if they don't, the temple should handle it, no? It is their Patron’s fault."

"Don't be senile, Doss," Thena replied coldly. "I expect you to know that if it were just that, I wouldn't have gone as far as to declare a gathering."

Glancing around at the expressions of the mages present at the table, Thena continued. "To begin, I would like to once again mention the greatly alarming increase in the occurrence of dungeon breaches, both here on Eris and the distant Nae. To punctuate this, I propose increasing the incentive allocated to dungeon clearing to encourage mages―external, reclusive or in-training― to work with the existing nobility to suppress the possibility of more outbreaks. Although this would cost more of our resources, I want to believe this is for the best as no one here would want to see a repeat of the Lindel incident. All in agreement, please signify by raising a hand."

All twenty mages present raised a hand to which Thena nodded. "Now to the main crux of today's summons."

Thena paused solemnly before continuing.

"Our goddess has gone into… seclusion," she said with a forced smile, causing the mages gathered to stiffen visibly. "For a while, at least until she decides to show herself again, goddess Vera would not be responding to any sort of contact."

"I-is there a problem?" one woman asked hesitantly. The mage had turned pale and appeared particularly worried.

"...I am not sure," Thena replied hesitantly, "but before she left, the goddess left a word of instruction and a divine prophecy.

“‘Find him. And bring him to Azgaar. Unarmed' the goddess said," Thena added in quote. "As for the prophecy…" the ancient mage simply extended her open palm, placing it on the table. Golden tendrils extended from her hand across the table before mist began to gather from the surface. The mana in the air coalesced into esoteric runes that floated in the air.

"Upon the eleventh hour,

An ancient evil at last awakens from his eternal slumber.

The first infernal grows stronger,

His demon armies shall march, in their wake, great chaos and slaughter.

An unfettered soul shall arise.

Ethania's last hope. The harbinger of chaos, perversion and demise.

His name, Usurper. Bane of all.

Perisher of gods, demons and men. By his hands, the pantheon shall fall…

And through destruction, the old world is born anew."

The gathering of mages descended into a gloomy silence.

"That sounds… ominous," A mage, appearing to be in his late forties, said solemnly.

"No shit!" Doss cursed as he threw a hand in the air. Some mages in the group frowned disapprovingly, but no one appeared to be in the mood to berate the foul-tongued man.

"What do you suggest we do?" Thena finally asked, her sombre voice breaking the silence.

"...What other choices do we have?" one dark-skinned man scoffed. "I suggest we recall all in-house mages on non-critical expeditions and redirect them towards finding this 'god slayer' as per the goddess's wishes, no?"

Thena sighed. "I guess we better get started immediately, then."

"What's with urgency?" the woman from earlier asked. "I would suggest we not rush this given the delicacy of the situation," she added, to which several mages murmured in agreement.

"If we are going to find this person and bring him back to Azgaar alive, we had better hurry," Thena replied tiredly. "The temple of Order just issued a manhunt, shortly after I received the goddess's instructions. The target of their manhunt is an unfettered soul.

“...The order?” Doss asked.

Thena sighed in response.

“Kill on sight."

TCOB: CHAPTER SEVEN

Brewing Scheme

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

Clyde sighed, staring as the evening sun fell behind the horizon. His seat at the back of the moving farm cart on a rocky pathway was a tad uncomfortable, but he didn't mind too much. At least this time he wasn't bound like a lamb for slaughter.

Behind him, Lorin sat looking very uncomfortable. Aside from the occasional deathly stares Clyde tossed in his direction every ten minutes or so, there was only silence. Any attempts by the young farmer to make small talk were ruthlessly shot down before they could even take off.

"We should―"

"Zip it."

"Your―"

"Zip it."

"..."

"I―"

"Zip it."

"..."

The two rode into the village with Clyde coldly ignoring the greetings of passing peasants.

"Erm… take care―"

BANG!

Clyde shut the door in the farmer's face with bang. Outside, Lorin was left with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. The peasant farmer slinked off as he suppressed an embarrassed cough.

Inside the hut, Clyde sat on the edge of his bed before calling up his status screen. He sighed as he took stock of his current situation.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Base attributes:

HP: 100/100

.

.

…

Crude leather pouch[Storage]: 2 iron coins. 1 large walnut(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment: None

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

Clyde sighed as he read through. Although his HP was now capped, it came at the cost of ten iron coins. The thought was very depressing for him. If his memories of this place served him right, he knew it was not easy to make coins as a peasant farmer. Those were his savings. The feeling of loss in Clyde's heart grew stronger when he 'remembered' that his HP―which felt like the only real benefit he received from the priest―would naturally recover with time.

The resentment he felt towards Lorin at that moment grew about two-fold. The bastard even had the guts to eat two of my walnuts! Fuck!

Drawing in a lungful of air, Clyde forced himself to calm down. Now is not the time to be getting emotional… he thought to himself. I need to figure out how to earn some money and if possible, change my class to something more versatile… But how?

Clyde stood up before going to rummage around the room. A few moments later, he dumped a small pile of items on the worktable.

A spare set of clothing and a large, old knife he found underneath the mattress(which he now realised was stuffed with decomposing hay. Ugh!). Some crude shivs were also included as well as a sheet of tanned leather, a half-filled oil lamp, a small spool of yarn with a fishbone needle, a few cooking utensils, a large bag of grain, meat jerky, the farming hoe resting in the corner and his leather pouch containing two coins, a walnut, and a pebble.

This was the entirety of Clyde's possession. Aside from the completely hideous hut, of course.

"...I-I can work with this?" Clyde muttered in self-doubt. Then, with a quiet exhale, he composed himself. Just treat it like a fucking game, you fucking dimwit. No need to get so worked up. Ahh… Now, aside from material possessions I should have something useful on my status screen, right?

...Foraging and basic crafting, huh?

Hmm…

With a contemplative expression, Clyde left the hut before returning several minutes later with an armful of resources. He dumped a few pieces of wood of various sizes on the table alongside a few handfuls of berries, nuts, and herbs before taking a step back.

Arms crossed, Clyde silently stared at the pile, gears turning in his head. Seconds later, a strange light glinted in his eyes.

I can work with this, he thought with a bit more confidence.

…

The next morning.

"Ah…" Clyde exhaled as he stared at the items arranged on the table. The oil lamp illuminating the worktable had sputtered out a few minutes ago and Clyde struggled to make out images in the dim light of dawn. Dark circles underscored his reddened eyes and his lips were chapped from dehydration.

But with a small smile, Clyde picked up an item before appraising it.

[Appraisal check… | Check passed]

[Crude bow: +5 base damage | STA drain penalty; 0.1pts/min on idle | 0.5 pts per shot]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 5]

[Durability: 5/5}

[Estimated Cost; 4 small pouches of grain]

Clyde nodded briefly before he began appraising the other items.

[Crude leather Quiver(Storage): Maximum capacity; 30 arrows]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 1]

[Durability: 2/2]

[Estimated Cost: 1½ small pouches of grain}

[Crude arrow(consumable): +2 penetrative damage]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: Inflicts bleed status between 0.1~0.5pts/min per every registered effective damage]

[Weight: 0.2]

[Durability: 0.2/0.2]

[Estimated Cost: a handful of grain]

[Crude leather bag(Storage): Maximum weight capacity; 20]

[Conditions of use: None]

[Special effect: None]

[Weight: 1]

[Durability: 2/2]

[Estimated Cost; 1½ small pouches of grain]

After confirming the results of his labour, Clyde packed everything away before lumbering towards his mattress and collapsing into a deep slumber.

…

When Clyde woke again, it was already evening.

As he sat up from his crude bed, he felt his belly rumble in protest as a screen flashed in the corner of his vision.

[You have been inflicted with the hunger status | Health is deducted at a rate of 0.1pts/hr]

[Max cap for stamina is reduced by ten percent | Status effect induced]

Clyde frowned before sighing as he went about to find himself a meal. A strip of jerky and a handful of berries and nuts later, he began contemplating his upcoming debut.

His plan was simple. Leave the village for a nearby town (preferably not Neverna for many, many reasons) and attempt to enlist as a yeoman to receive a bit of (highly relevant) combat training before considering anything else.

If the events of the past few days were any indicator of things to come, it was clear that in this world strength meant everything. If he were marginally stronger than he was earlier, it would have been impossible for an ignorant farmer such as Lorin to accuse him of insanity and demonic possession in the first place, talk less of forcing him into an uncomfortable(and possibly dangerous) situation.

Clyde was sure there were probably many other methods of acquiring strength in this world, but the most viable one for him now was to enlist a Yeoman under a noble. In order to do that, he would have to leave this place as the village constables were already fully staffed and had stopped taking new recruits. This is where the real problem begins.

Clyde realised to his dismay that, unlike other freemen peasants, he was a villein which meant he was legally tied to the land. In return for being allowed to farm the land on which he lived, he had to give some of the food he grew each year to the village head who in turn paid tribute to the lord. Also, if he ever wanted to leave, or even get married, he needed to receive the lord's permission first as, according to the law, he was someone else's property.

Clyde briefly considered buying his freedom back but quickly scrapped the idea. That plan would take years given his current rate, hence wasn't realistic at all. His only option left was to flee his newfound owner's grasp and find salvation somewhere else.

So, with a plan in place, Clyde began the preparations for his big escape.

TCOB: CHAPTER SIX

This Bastard!

Ashcol Duchy.

Eris - Ethania.

…

Clyde stared at the morning sky as he laid bound in a farm cart, reconsidering his life choices.

Where did I go wrong? he asked himself, staring at the crimson clouds lit by the rising sun above. Did he regret calling Woo Hee that fateful day for a cup of coffee? Or did he regret manipulating her into betraying her husband?

Clyde shook his head. No, he didn't. If anything, he felt it was somewhat unfortunate his tryst with the young wife was so short-lived. He did regret something though. And that was seducing his assistant, Ha Ji-won.

Clyde felt he should have been more wary of the numerous red flags that hung off the young inspector's buxom tits. There were signs. Everywhere. From her track record with the service to the tone with which she spoke of her previous exes. Even down to the sweet nothings she whispered into his ears after their first night together.

There is a popular saying amongst cultured men; Don't ever stick your rod in crazy. Sadly, Clyde was too blinded by the buxomity of her titties which never once quit. Too blinded by her grip, by those tiny lips that felt like they could vacuum the world.

The transmigrator had learned his lesson though and would never make a mistake like that again…

Hopefully.

Clyde rolled onto his side to see Lorin seated at the other end of the cart with his head hanging limply to the side. Maggie, the donkey responsible for this whole debacle, rode on silently without Lorin's input. It appeared pretty smart for an animal… until Clyde spotted the damned creature sampling a piece of dung by the roadside, only to spit it out again…

Multiple times in succession.

Clyde sighed as a depressing thought crossed his mind as he stared at Maggie's antics. My body's previous owner got knocked out in a single blow by that? Ah…

Clyde shook his head, returning his gaze back to who he would like to consider his uber driver―if only to preserve his sanity. Despite the words of dissuasion from the village Yeomen on the issue of travelling at night, Lorin had insisted on beginning their journey to a nearby town in order to see a priest for Clyde's 'condition'.

Assuming it was under a completely different scenario, Clyde might have felt somewhat grateful to the young man for his concern. But, accusing Clyde of memory loss, insanity, and a possibility of demonic possession, before binding him and shipping him off at the back of an uncomfortable, flea-infested farm cart, overnight on a treacherous, wildlife-infested road wasn't a great way of getting into the former inspector's whitelist.

The depressed transmigrator could have sworn he saw a wolf once… maybe it was just a wild dog? Either way, he wasn't happy. Not at all.

Ah… Clyde sighed sinisterly to himself, the people of Longboat village got it coming. He promised himself to never forget. To never let this slight go unpunished. And what better way of punishing them than turning every man in the forsaken village into a veritable cuckold…

On second thought, scratch that, Clyde thought with a shiver. Remembering the below-average looks of the majority of the women in the village made Clyde's little brother shrivel up in fear. Clyde was a perverted, obscene, and licentious man, but he still possessed some limit of standard.

Unless pushed to a corner, he would never consider bedding a slam donkey―much less a whole village of them.

Besides, he didn't have time for such a pointless endeavour. Clyde's priority now was to find a way of escaping his present circumstances. He had a nagging suspicion that staying as a peasant farmer for longer than necessary would be a definite route to receiving a bloody and gruesome death.

Don't ask how he knew. He just did.

Clyde glanced down at the ropes binding his body. Giving it a little tug, he confirmed that he wasn't going anywhere other than the priest's any time soon. So, with a sigh, he closed his eyes.

Better to conserve my energy, than struggle pointlessly. he thought.

…

An hour later they arrive at Neverna…

Lorin was finally awake, but uncharacteristically silent as steered the donkey. Glancing around as he was being ported towards the temple, Clyde realised the town was considerably smaller than what he expected with its limited population. The streets were not paved and covered in filth, decomposing matter, and mud.

Despite the small population though, there were many merchants and skilled craftsmen present in the town. Carpenters, blacksmiths, tailors, and the like were all present. Clyde wasn't surprised though. Even in modern times, trade was a key part of town life. But here, instead of groceries, condoms, and gaming consoles, goods such as iron, wool, and salt were exchanged for crude metal coins.

Some women worked as shopkeepers, cloth sellers, or ran pubs, but they were very few and far in between. Similar to the village, women were also expected to work in the home, cleaning and looking after their families.

Clyde pulled on the muscles in his torso as he forced himself into a seating position. Now that he could get a better view of the town, he glanced around. His eyes settled on two buildings in the distance. The largest he had ever seen since he awoke in this strange world; what appeared to be a lord's manor house and a temple.

The two (somewhat) grand buildings were of stone and aged timber construction. Even from a distance, Clyde could see a wall and moat surrounding the manor house. A small gatehouse―equipped with a drawbridge―was built into the structure's circuit walls. The fortified gateway, watchtowers and stone walls with arrow slits guarded the single bridge which granted access to the manor house across the moat.

The temple stood just over a hundred metres away from the imposing residence. Unlike the manor house though, it lacked fortifications. Only a simple wooden door engraved with esoteric runes guarded the entrance. It almost appeared as if no one was worried that the building could be attacked.

"Heel," the silent Lorin said as he pulled on the donkey's reins. Hopping down from the farm cart he quickly jogged into the building and appeared a few moments later with two other yeomen.

"I can walk," Clyde sighed exasperatedly as the armed men walked forward to hoist him out of the cart. From the uncomfortable angle he hung, as he was carried in like a sack of corn, Clyde could only see the worn leather boots of the yeomen carrying him. But as he entered the temple, he received a prompt in the corner of his vision.

[You have entered a temple | You are now on sacred soil]

[Demonism check… | Check failed]

[Fate check… | Check failed]

[Divinity check… | Check passed]

[You have received a temporary blessing | All stats +10%]

“Oh?” Clyde made a sound of surprise. But before he could fully make sense of the notification, he was dumped carelessly on the ground.

Wincing, Clyde glared at the Yeomen as they left. His irritation went unnoticed though. Ignoring the rude soldiers, Clyde glanced around to realise the temple reminded him of those catholic churches from Earth. He had never been to one such church before, but the former policeman had seen enough movies and pictures to make the connection.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtered through the stained glass windows, Clyde finally noticed six gargantuan statues at the other end of the building. Three male and three female. The first was a male donning a regal robe with a slender sword strapped to his side. Beside him was a female dressed in a hooded cloak, holding what appeared to be a staff adorned with an orb at the tip. The two were centered amongst the remaining statues and stood about a few meters taller.

"What do you seek, children," a voice from the side said, jarring Clyde from his thoughts. He looked down to notice a slender man standing at the foot of one of the statues. Staring into the man's gaze, Clyde felt an unnatural compulsion to kneel.

[You are in the presence of a messenger of the gods | You have experienced a sliver of divinity]

[You have been inflicted with the worship status]

[Divinity check… | Check passed]

[You have resisted]

"Uhn?" Clyde was confused. But his confusion didn't last long as he heard a dull thud behind him. He glanced back to see Lorin kneeling, his posture… worshipping?

A thought immediately crossed Clyde's mind. He glanced back at the priest walking towards him before immediately imitating Lorin. He could infer something was odd and decided the best course of action was mimicry.

A small frown flashed on the priest's face as he stared at Clyde before the expression disappeared like smoke in the wind.

"F-father," Lorin stammered, replying to the priest's question without looking up, "my friend here needs your help."

The priest glanced back at Clyde with another frown. "What happened to him?"

"...H-he was kicked in the head by a donkey."

"..."

"...I was worried that he might have become somewhat brain-damaged as a result," Lorin added before continuing uneasily. "Some of the villagers mentioned he was behaving abnormally the other day … we were worried that he might have been possessed by a demon."

"Hmm…" the priest hummed contemplatively, "a minor ghoul you say?"

"P-possibly."

"That would explain it," the priest muttered as he stared at Clyde through squinted eyes. Raising a hand towards the bound Clyde, the priest muttered something under his breath. His palm began to glow as white mist extended to coil around Clyde.

[You have been struck by - lesser divine exorcism | Remnant soul of the previous host extracted]

[You have been struck by - lesser heal | Your health has been restored]

Clyde's eyes popped as he stared at the greyish orb of light floating in the priest's palm. With a wave of his hand, the priest dispersed what Clyde assumed to be his body's previous owner.

"Your friend has been healed," the priest said nonchalantly. He examined Clyde's expression with a pleased light in his eyes before extending an open palm. "Your offering?"

"Y-yes, father," Lorin said as he shuffled forward with a leather pouch in his hands. Glancing at the pouch, Clyde felt it looked somewhat familiar. Immediately, he felt his body for his money pouch and realised it was nowhere to be found.

This bastard! Clyde roared inwardly as Lorin counted out ten iron coins from his pouch before handing it to the priest.

The fellow appeared to be very pleased with himself.

TCOB: CHAPTER FIVE

Don’t worry Clyde, the priest can fix you. I hope…

Longboat village of Loue Province

Ashcol Duchy,

Eris - Ethania.

…

"...WTF?" Clyde muttered in disbelief. His eyes were opened exaggeratingly as he stared at the screen floating in his vision. The transmigrator probed the screen only to see his fingers pass through it like it was an illusion.

Clyde blinked, then panicked as he realised the screen had disappeared. Upon impulse, he shot up from his seat at the edge of the lumpy mattress to look for the missing status screen.

It took about three seconds before Clyde could calm down.

"S-system…" he called hesitantly.

"..."

"Status?" he called again to which the screen reappeared. Clyde let out a sigh which he had unknowingly held.

He blinked and the screen disappeared. "Status!" he called immediately, causing the screen to reappear. Clyde stared at it for several moments before a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

Blinking, he caused the screen to disappear once more. 'Status?' he thought probingly. The screen reappeared, and with another thought, he willed the screen to disappear.

"..."

"...Is this real?" he muttered to himself in doubt before recalling the screen. This time rather than just dismissing it right away, he read through the information displayed.

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Base attributes:

HP: 91/100

MP: 7.9/7.9

STA: 120/123

STATS:

STR:13.2

AGI: 11.1

DEX: 12.1

INT: 49.7

DEF: 1(+0.5: FEET)

PRE: 15

CHA: 20.3(-4)(-0.4)(-0.4)(-0.2)

Class Skills:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Farming - Lvl 8

Foraging - Lvl 7

Hunting - Lvl 4

Fishing - Lvl 4

Basic Crafting - Lvl 5

Basic Culinary - Lvl 4

Class Attributes:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Hunger Resistance - Hunger status is delayed for 36 hours after a full meal. Continuous activation of attribute for more than two weeks without three days of satiation in between will trigger the Starvation Status(All stats will drop at a rate of 20% per every three-and-a-half days until status is lifted.

Hardy Folk - Stamina drain is reduced by 20% once Stamina drops below 50%. This attribute is stackable with other attributes or buffs with similar effect.

Class Penalties:

CHA: -4

Items:

Coarse cotton shirt: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.8/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Coarse cotton hoses: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.7/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather sandals: Aerates the body. Provides protection to feet. +0.1% heat resistance. +0.5 DEF: FEET. -0.2 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.5/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather pouch[Storage]: 12 iron coins. Three large walnuts(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment: None

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

Clyde sighed as he rubbed his brow in dread. Hesitantly, he reached into his 'coarse cotton shirt' to pull out a leather pouch hanging from a string of hemp looped around his neck. Clyde sighed again as flipped out the contents from the pouch onto the work table by the bed.

"...Exactly twelve coins, three walnuts and a pebble," he muttered gloomily. Unlike what others might expect, Clyde wasn't elated in the slightest. In fact, one could say he was royally pissed off.

"Is this what I am forced to trade over twenty years of my life's work for? A handful of coins, walnuts and a pebble? And what is with this stupid class? A peasant farmer? A novice one at that? Why don't you just make me a fucking serf then, you motherfucker!"

[You have cursed the system | You have received bad karma]

[Life will become hard for you…]

[Status cannot be lifted until rendered invalid | Status will remain valid until you repent]

"..."

Clyde stared at the prompts flashing at the corner of his vision. His left eye twitched in rage. "Bullshit!" he spat. But just as he was about to utter another string of curses, he felt a disgusting chill run down his spine.

His hair stood on end as if some twisted pervert was breathing down his neck. The feeling reminded him of a story he once heard in high school, one about an obese, homosexual rapist/sumo wrestler going by the name Da Dong. A young Clyde had suffered one too many nightmares after that unfortunate tale.

Suddenly realising the cozy hut had grown too stuffy for his tastes, Clyde fled―erm, vacated the building for a breath of fresh air.

Standing by the livestock pen outside, Clyde stared at the hut as a thought crossed his mind.

...But what if this is not real? he asked himself in doubt. Everything he had seen since he had awoken only reinforced this thought, but his rational mind forced him to consider otherwise.

I could be hallucinating… Clyde thought before shaking his head in denial.

It can't be that, he muttered, running his hands over the weathered trunk of the apple tree by the pen. Everything is too detailed to be a hallucination. So, this is real?

He stared at the tree in doubt. Then a thought suddenly crossed his mind. His pupils narrowed as he pulled back his fist to strike the tree.

Peng!

[You have dealt 17.9 base damage | You have inflicted 0.2 effective damage]

[Target has resisted]

Clyde's face flushed red as he held onto his bruised fist. "That was stupid," he admitted in pain, "Ow…"

Leaning into the tree as he caressed his hurting fist, Clyde stared intently at the prompt in the corner of his vision. This shouldn't be real… but is it?

He sighed again before straightening his posture to face the twilight at the edge of the horizon.

"What else can I do?" he asked himself with a sigh. "I guess this is my life now."

"..."

In that solemn silence, Clyde sighed again.

He resolved the last dregs of unease in his heart. A light of undying tenacity began to fester in his gaze. It was then he determined in his heart, to not only survive―despite falling from prominence to unimaginable depths―but to thrive in whatever it is this bullshit he suddenly found himself in.

But just as Clyde began to reinforce his newfound resolve in a bid to retain what was left of his sanity, he heard the shuffling of multiple footsteps behind him. Turning around, he sees Lorin leading a group of four men dressed in leather armour toward him.

Clyde began raising his hands in greeting but froze as Lorin let out a shout.

"That's him!" the burly peasant declared, pointing an accusing finger at Clyde.

"Huh?" Clyde made a sound of confusion with his hand frozen mid-wave. Too shocked to move, Clyde could only watch as the four armed men jogged up to him before tackling him to the ground and tying him up with a length of hemp.

"What's happening?" Clyde asked Lorin, baffled. He wanted to be angry but was too confused to act on the thought.

Lorin just stared at him with a pitying gaze before resting a palm on Clyde's shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, brother. Believe in me!"

"...Hands of the merchandise, you fucking plebian!" Clyde finally snapped, releasing all his repressed resentment as he thrashed against his restraints. "Fuck you! Who is your brother? Do you know who I am? I am Senior Inspector Clyde Kim Seong-ho of the Korean police force! My kid brother is the CEO of Silver Moon Conglomerates! Release me this instant, you bastard!"

Lorin just stared at him as he gave an understanding nod.

"Don't worry Clyde," he said as an errant tear ran down his face, "the Priest can fix you… I hope."

TCOB: CHAPTER FOUR

I Have Doomed Us All

Earlier…

Diane's divine valley.

The Celestial Plane.

Ethania.

…

Light winds caressed a sacred land, playing a tranquil, calming note as they blew over the peaceful valley. Crimson clouds drifted lazily in the gentle breeze―carefree and unrestrained―as golden shafts of starlight peeked out from behind them, illuminating the realm in a divine glow.

In the gentle light, one could see the incredible sight of towering hills rising all around. Several miles of primal forest stretched out across the valley's bottom as a crystalline river gently slithered through its bosom. At the crest of the hills surrounding the valley, thick fog swirled and billowed. There, two figures stood, divine auras radiating from their celestial forms.

The first was a gloomy human beauty with silvery eyes and a head of midnight-black hair. She wore an inky black shawl over a similarly coloured dress with a collar of raven feathers hiding her delicate clavicle from view.

The second woman appeared to be of an exotic non-human variety with her seemingly elvish ears and a crown of deer antlers growing out from her forehead. Her hair was a cascading pristine white waterfall with gold undertones that fell to her hips. Underneath a short black cape, a snow-white nightgown hung from her shoulders down to just above her knees.

"I have done as you instructed me, sister," a third figure said as she manifested out of thin air. The newcomer―despite wearing a homely white dress more befitting of a commoner's daughter―radiated a divine aura almost as potent as the first two before her. Her overly expressive eyes and supple cheeks adorned with dimples only served to reinforce the delicate image that her petite form presented.

Despite this, though, the non-human goddess standing furthest from her watched the newcomer with a measured amount of caution and distrust. Her phoenix-like eyes glared warily as divine energy coiled threateningly in her core.

"Calm down, Diane," the raven-haired woman said as she turned her regal gaze towards the distrustful goddess. The one referred to as Diane simply scoffed in response.

"Calm down?" Diane asked derisively. "You barge into my home without permission and you expect me to calm down? I never thought 'Queen goddess' Vera to be one as unreasonable as she is heartless."

"Watch your mouth, slut," the petite goddess growled as she glared at Diane.

"Artemia," Vera called mildly.

"...Sorry, sister."

As the petite goddess slinked behind her shadow, Vera turned her attention back to Diane. "I am sorry for dropping in unannounced," she apologised, "but I need your assistance, Diane. It is urgent."

Diane raised a surprised brow at Vera's words. "And what does the venerable 'Queen goddess' need my humble self for?"

Vera directly ignored the provocation as she replied. "A Prophecy has surfaced."

Diane frowned. Confused, she turned her gaze to Artemia. The petite goddess's' face was marred by a gloomy frown. She appeared very upset.

"You received another revelation?" Diane asked, turning back to Vera.

"Yes," Vera nodded grimly as she raised her right hand. "Here."

A faint mist rose up from Vera's open palm, forming strange words that floated in thin air.

"Upon the eleventh hour," Vera recited, reading the jumbled runes floating before her, "an ancient evil at last awakens from his eternal slumber.

The first infernal grows stronger.

His demon armies shall march; in their wake, great chaos and slaughter.

An unfettered soul shall arise.

Ethania's last hope. The harbinger of chaos, perversion, and demise."

A solemn silence descended.

"...You jest, Vera," Diane said at last. Her aura flickered nervously.

"Do you truly believe anyone―even I, the venerable 'Queen goddess'―would dare pervert the essence of a prophecy bestowed by Ethania herself?" Vera replied with a raised brow.

Diane paled visibly. "The first infernal? Konrad himself sealed firmly Diablo in the underworld. How is it possible he would awaken now?"

"Konrad," Vera sighed gloomily. "It seemed he played us."

"...What do you mean?"

"He didn't fully seal Diablo," Vera replied. "Immediately after receiving the prophecy, I visited the underworld to discover the seal was weakening. There was a gap in the sealing array that would allow one to syphon divine essence from whatever was contained inside. I want to assume Konrad must have had some plans of wanting to extract Diablo's divinity for himself."

"He wanted to steal another's divinity?" Diane replied, appearing mildly shocked for a moment before shaking her head fondly. "I shouldn't be surprised though. It is Konrad after all. But still, the guts of that man."

Vera sighed as she saw a faint blush surface on Diane's face.

"Focus, Diane," Vera chided.

The goddess concerned just scoffed in response. "So what if you idiots were cheated by him? So what if the gap is weakening the seal? What does that have to do with me? Shouldn't you just fix it? You are the goddess of Magic after all, right?"

Vera sighed again. "It is not as simple as you make it seem. If it were a seal of magical nature, I am sure I could mend it myself. But it is not. The seal is a curse. An affliction. The best I can do is slow it down, but I might never be able to find a solution before Diablo fully awakens from the curse Konrad placed upon him."

"I still don't see how this has anything to do with me…" Diane replied, crossing her arms over her supple bosom.

"...I plan on summoning an Otherworlder," Vera said.

"..."

Diane froze in shock. Her startled gaze shot towards Artemia, who had not spoken since. The petite goddess' gaze remained gloomy, but not a hint of shock was present on her face.

"B-but Tyrone forbade the summoning of Otherworlders."

"I know," Vera replied. "That is why he mustn't hear of this."

"But why―"

"The prophecy mentions an unfettered soul," Vera replied, cutting Diane off. "The only unfettered souls I know of are Otherworlders."

“...Like Konrad,” Diane added, scornfully, “whom you lot betrayed.’

Silence.

"...I still don't see how this concerns me." Diane continued coldly, backing off from the duo before shooting off into the valley below.

"I need the fragment of Konrad's divinity in your possession!" Vera shouted towards Diane. "I plan on latching the Otherworlder's fate to what remains of him. What we need now is a successor to his powers. Only with it could we possibly stand a chance at repairing the seal before Diablo awakens."

The fleeing Diane froze before rigidly turning around to face Vera.

"...How can you be sure Konrad left a legacy behind?" she asked hesitantly.

"It is Konrad we are talking about," Vera scoffed. "That bastard probably has more than one legacy hidden behind."

"...How am I sure you are not just trying to find a way of wiping clean what remains of him?" Diane asked again, suspicious.

"Do you think I intend on wasting valuable time on an endeavour that is most definitely likely to prove pointless?" Vera asked in return.

"..."

"...C-can you truly recreate Konrad's powers?" Diane asked shakily. The goddess appeared hesitant.

Vera frowned at the reaction before muttering somewhat confusedly. "It is possible."

"Then I am in!" Diane replied enthusiastically as she reappeared before Vera and Artemia. The other goddesses shared a confused glance.

"O…k?" Vera said as she took a step forward. "But we don't have much time. Tyrone won't be distracted for long and he is already suspicious of me―"

"Just get on with it then. You talk too much."

Vera frowned for a split second before immediately ignoring the eccentric woman. She reached out both of her hands, murmuring esoteric words as her divine power began revolving. Magical arrays sprang into existence, twirling in mid-air.

A screen appeared before Vera's eyes.

[You have used divine power]

[Divinity check… Check passed]

[You have casted a divine level summoning spell]

[Intelligence check… Check passed | Perception check… Check passed]

[Summon induced]

[You have simultaneously torn the fabrics of Space, Time and Matter]

[You have gained the title - Transcendent Summoner]

[You have suffered a backlash from the use of Forbidden Magic]

[You have been inflicted by the Curse of Chaos | Your Health will drop by 50%]

[You have partially resisted status]

[Your Health will drop by 20% | Status effect induced]

Vera gasped slightly as she felt her blood flow in reverse due to the effects of the backlash. She almost spat out blood, but managed to suppress the urge. The air grew turbulent. A great cyclone formed around the three goddesses as Vera's immense mana reserves were drained by the spell.

Without receiving a prompt from Vera, Diane and Artemia shared a glance before also raising their hands to channel their powers into the summoning array.

Multiple prompts surfaced in Vera's vision.

[An external source requests to infuse your spell | Do you permit- Y/N]

[An external source requests to infuse your spell | Do you permit- Y/N]

[You have agreed to spell infusion | You have received divine power from the Goddess of the Hearth and Sustenance - Artemia]

[You have agreed to spell infusion | You have received divine power from the Goddess of the Love and Nature - Diane]

[Your spell's power has grown by 90% per cent | Your spell efficiency has dropped by 1%]

[Your spell's power has grown by 70% per cent | Your spell efficiency has dropped by 2%]

[Summoning initiated…]

[...]

[Summon success]

[You have summoned Clyde Kim Seong-ho | Your summon is an Otherworlder]

[Your control over your summon has dropped to 50%]

A small orb of light began to materialise within the magical array. Underneath the weighty gazes of the three goddesses, the newly emerging soul pulsed and flickered erratically as if attempting to escape its binds. As the soul struggled within the array, Vera opened another spatial rift from which she pulled out a young, handsome-looking man dressed in armour. The unfortunate fellow's eyes darted around in fear, but his body was completely still, as if frozen.

[Do you want to bind your summon to the vessel- Y/N]

Realising Vera's intentions, Diane scoffed derisively. "You should know unfettered souls can't be forcibly bound to a host? Right, 'Queen goddess'?"

"There is no harm in trying," Vera replied without looking away from the bound soul in the array.

[You have attempted to bind your summon to a host]

[...]

[You have failed to bind your summon to a host | Your control over your summon has dropped to 20%]

Vera frowned as she watched the soul thrash against the restraint of the summoning array. She sighed before turning her attention to Diane. "The Fragment?"

Diane stared at Vera for a moment before replying as she opened another spatial rift to pull out what appeared to be a drop of blood.

"If by some chance I find out you just lied to me―"

"Save your breath, Diane. I have no interest in antagonising you for such minor gains."

Vera watched as Diane threw the drop of blood into the array. Then her pupils shrunk abruptly in shock.

[A fragment of divine essence has been infused into your summon | Your summon's fate has been tied to the God of Nemesis, Affliction and Perversion - Konrad (Deceased)(Dispersed)]

[A fragment of divine essence has been infused into your summon | Your summon's fate has been tied to the Goddess of Love and Nature - Diane]

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Vera screamed in outrage.

"Sorry, 'Queen goddess'," Diane replied, unrepentant, "but after how the lot of you unhesitantly backstabbed Konrad despite the fact that he saved your pitiful arses, I can't seem to find it in me to trust you."

Vera and Artemia gritted their teeth hatefully as they stared at the other goddess. Vera's mind spun as she thought of numerous ways of resolving the pitfall that had suddenly appeared before her. Then she sighed.

[You have infused your summon with a fragment of divine essence | Your summon's fate has been tied to the Goddess of Magic, Wisdom and Divination - Vera]

"You too, Artemia," Vera said as she glared at Diane. The petite goddess simply nodded before raising an index finger and allowing a drop of blood to coalesce on the digit. Artemia glared at Diane one last time before tossing the drop into the array.

[A fragment of divine essence has been infused into your summon | Your summon's fate has been tied to the Goddess of the Hearth and Sustenance - Artemia]

[Your summon is evolving…]

[...]

[Your summon has evolved]

[Your control over your summon has dropped to 0% | Your summon has escaped]

Vera sighed again as she watched the summoning array explode before the summoned soul darted away. Artemia attempted to pursue, but Vera held her back as she shook her head. Even gods would struggle to chase down a soul bent on fleeing.

"Oh, did I ruin your plans, 'Queen Goddess'," Diane cooed mockingly. Vera ignored her as she turned to leave. For some reason, the queen goddess's gaze had turned hollow.

"You don't know what you have done, Diane," Vera muttered. Her voice shook with a hint of fearful intent.

"Huh?" Diane was confused by Vera's sudden change in demeanour. Even Artemia looked startled. But just as she was about to probe into the meaning of Vera's words, another presence descended into the realm.

"You finally discovered it?" Vera asked the newcomer without even glancing at him. Tyrone stared at her for a moment before speaking. His pristine white hair and robes billowed as he floated in the sky.

"Why didn't you tell me about Diablo's weakening seal earlier?" he asked. His voice was dangerously low.

"I figured you would discover it on your own," Vera replied as she rose past him. "I was working on finding a solution."

"Was?" the god asked, puzzled before looking around. "What happened here?"

"...I summoned an Otherworlder."

Diane and Artemia stared at Vera in shock. Tyrone's face froze for a split second before his divine power suddenly flared out. A second later, scars suddenly manifested in the fabric of space. All over Ethania great rends appeared in the lands, skies and seas.

[You have suffered 2579 effective damage | You have resisted]

Vera raised a hand to her neck to touch warm blood. "It has been a while since I last saw my own blood, Tyrone," she said as she lifelessly gazed at her bloody fingers.

"Where is it?" Tyrone growled, ignoring her.

"He escaped. To the mortal plane."

Vera sighed again as she watched the enraged god disappear.

"...Why, sister? Why did you tell him?" Artemia asked as she gently approached Vera.

"I will be returning to the underworld to continue reinforcing the seal on Diablo's prison," Vera replied, as she dismissed Artemia's question. With another sigh, she opened a teleportation portal and walked through. Then she found herself in a study littered with vials, magical herbs and spell books.

Shakily grabbing onto the nearest piece of furniture, Vera opened her palm and watched with disbelieving eyes as mist gathered to form jumbled words.

"Upon the eleventh hour,

An ancient evil at last awakens from his eternal slumber.

The first infernal grows stronger,

His demon armies shall march, in their wake, great chaos and slaughter.

An unfettered soul shall arise.

Ethania's last hope. The harbinger of chaos, perversion and demise…"

But the prophecy didn't end there. Vera continued, reading a portion of the prophecy that should never have existed.

"...His name, Usurper. Bane of all.

Perisher of gods, demons and men. By his hands, the pantheon shall fall.

And through destruction the old world is born anew."

Vera fell to her knees. There was no hint of regality in her gaze.

Only fear and regret remained. She muttered…

"I have doomed us all."

TCOB: CHAPTER THREE

...WTF?

Three months ago.

Ashcol Duchy,

Ethania.

...

In a room, the muted rays of the late summer sun fell upon the body of a young man. He laid on a large bed, tousled, slick black wavy hair framing his tan, freckled face. His eyelids fluttered briefly for a moment, eyeballs faintly rolling underneath, before cracking open the hardened seal of their natural secretions. They opened to reveal limpid dark irises to the world.

Clyde stared at the thatched ceiling above, confusion slowly clouding his features, his pupils contracting in doubt.

Glancing to the side, his gaze swept around the room, noticing it was rather sparsely decorated. A wooden farm hoe rested in the corner, and aside from the wooden work table and chair, the bed he laid upon and the open window framed outside by withering ivy, there was nothing else in sight. Bare.

Despite this, though, the room felt comfortable, minimalistic and oddly enough… Familiar.

Curious, Clyde sat up to get a better view of the… hut? Looking around, he realised that he was the only one in this single-room building.

"Where is this?" Clyde asked himself out loud as he walked around the room. Stopping by the window, he looked outside to see a small farmland with a pig and a few sheep in a pen. The animals quietly hid from the sun's glare under the shade of an apple tree growing beside the pen.

"Hey! Good afternoon Clyde!" A voice shouted from a distance.

Clyde looked out to the side and saw a man, probably in his late twenties, walking up to the window with a smile on his face. The man possessed vaguely Western features with a high nose bridge, a chiselled face, and a double chin. His eyebrow was bushy and his small beard was grown out, unkempt.

Clyde frowned minutely as he watched the man approach. Judging from his burly stature and the calloused palm which he waved in a friendly manner, the fellow seemed to be a labourer or manual worker of some sort. Why would I be this friendly with a labourer? Clyde asked himself, baffled.

"Good afternoon…" Clyde paused, realising he shouldn't know who this fellow was―yet somehow he did. "...Lorin?"

"How are you feeling now, Clyde?" the fellow continued, confirming the dreadful feeling in Clyde's heart.

"Huh?" Clyde faltered as his mind registered the fellow's question. "Feeling?"

Lorin nodded as he pointed at Clyde's forehead. "Maggie did you a dirty one there. We almost thought she killed you. How did you manage to make her so angry?"

Clyde curiously reached for his forehead upon Lorin's spurring. Bandages? he muttered, feeling strips of coarse cloth wrapped around his head.

"Who is Maggie?" Clyde asked, curious as to who would dare to hurt him―a Senior Inspector of the Korean police force―so badly.

Lorin stared back at him, worried. "Maggie," he repeated, "Farmer Jen's donkey?"

"Oh…" Clyde muttered. Somehow, it made sense. Yet, somehow, it didn't.

"..."

Lorin stared at him with increasing worry, prompting a question to form in Clyde's mind.

"Where am I, Lorin?" he asked.

"..."

Lorin simply turned around and began to leave.

"Wait!" Clyde called as he watched the burly fellow walk off. "Where are you going?"

Lorin mumbled something inaudibly as he quickened his steps down the dirt path, quickly vacating the premises. The gaze which he used to glance at Clyde as he left was one of pity.

"Wait!" Clyde called again, but sadly, the fellow had resolutely exited. Clyde sighed as he dropped his outstretched hand. He did feel the urge to chase after the fellow, but immediately felt it was unnecessary, as he already had the answers to the question he asked.

"Longboat village of Loue Province," he muttered, as he recollected a memory, " Ashcol Duchy, Eris… Ethania?"

A disturbing thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. I am sure this is all just some misunderstanding, Clyde sighed as he looked up at the clear sky.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. As he stared at the blue expanse above him, he noticed what looked like a rend in the sky. It almost appeared as if someone ripped a hole in the blue canvas with a knife, allowing those below to peek into the void hidden behind.

Blinking, Clyde shook his head before turning around with a sigh.

"I must be hallucinating," he muttered as he turned back into the hut. Behind him, the scar in the sky began to heal at a speed visible to the human eye.

"Where did I drop my phone?" Clyde asked himself as he rummaged around the room. But given how bare the room was, there was little to rummage. There was no phone in sight.

The dreadful feeling in Clyde's heart grew. He sat back onto the lumpy mattress in a bid to calm himself. The fact that he felt comfortable even on a bed that should have felt inhumanely uncomfortable caused the dread in his heart to thicken.

Clyde heaved a gloomy sigh as he pulled his palm across his face. His eyes grew bloodshot with worry.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head in denial. "No. No, no, no, no."

"Fuck!" He screamed as he stood up, kicking the wooden chair in front of him. An action which he immediately regretted.

But as he rolled on the floor, clutching his feet in pain, something flashed before his eyes.

[You have dealt 24.2 base damage | You have inflicted 24.2 effective damage]

[You have reduced the durability of the target | Target's durability will drop by 7%]

[Status effect induced]

"...Huh?" Clyde made a sound of confusion as he stared at the floating screen before his eyes.

"What the fuck?"

…

Clyde walked down the dirt path in the direction he 'remembered' a stream flowed. As he walked by with shaky footsteps, passersby avoided him. At first they appeared concerned, watching him move like he was about to collapse, but their concern soon vanished and was quickly replaced with fear once they noticed the desolate light in his bloodshot eyes.

He looked like a demon. Like someone possessed as he lumbered in the direction of the stream. The sky above was clear and blue. Not a cloud or scar in sight.

So it was in this manner, under the glare of the summer sun, Clyde arrived at the stream. He stopped at the edge as he fell to his knees.

Looking into the body of water, he stared back at an unfamiliar… yet familiar face.

His face.

"..."

"No," Clyde shook his head in denial.

"No."

"I am not dead?" he asked himself as he watched, the reflection of his own pupils dilated in dread and disbelief.

Am I?

…

Evening soon arrived.

Clyde still knelt by the stream as he gazed at his reflection. Then he sighed.

"It's all gone," he mumbled. "Over twenty years of hard work and diligence. Gone."

Tears ran down Clyde's face as he thought of all his past accomplishments vanishing with the wind like a puff of smoke. He sighed as he stood up before gloomy trudging back to his hut.

Arriving, he glanced down at the chair which he kicked away earlier. After hesitating for a moment, he sighed as he bent over to set it back upright. Then he sat on his bed, quietly staring out the window at what he assumed to be his future now.

A farm.

Several moments passed before a strange thought crossed his mind.

"S-system," he called out hesitantly.

"..."

"Status?" he called again.

Silence.

Clyde let out a gloomy sigh before releasing a suppressed chuckle

"I am a fool," he muttered aloud in self-reproach. "What was I thinking? That this is one of those stupid transmigration novels I read in highschool? Pathetic. I should just go kill myse―"

[Host soul unrecognised]

[Recalibrating…]

[Recalibration failed]

[Error code - 34057]

[Loading recognition protocols…]

[Load failed]

[Error code - 77980]

[Loading repair program…]

[Load failed]

[Error code - 57689]

[Loading debugging protocols…]

[Load success]

[Rebooting…]

[...]

[Reboot complete]

[Loading recognition protocols…]

[Load fail]

[Error code - 77980]

[Host data absent from database]

[Bypassing system SRV requirements…]

[Bypass success]

[Loading registration protocols…]

[Load success]

[Host data registered]

[Rebooting…]

[...]

[Reboot complete]

[Uploading host data…]

[Upload success]

[Downloading modified BIOS…]

[Download success]

[Downloading modified Architecture…]

[Download success]

[Installing…]

[Install success]

[Syncing database…]

[Sync success]

[Archiving cache data…]

[Archive success]

[Rebooting…]

[...]

[Reboot success]

[Launching system…]

[...]

[Launch success]

|Status|

Host Name: Clyde

Race: Human(Otherworldly)

Skeletal Age: 19

Gender: Male

Titles: N/A

Divinity: 0.2/????

Class: Commoner(Peasant Farmer[Novice])

Lvl: 2/10

XP: 87/100

Base attributes:

HP: 91/100

MP: 7.9/7.9

STA: 120/123

STATS:

STR:13.2

AGI: 11.1

DEX: 12.1

INT: 49.7

DEF: 1(+0.5: FEET)

PRE: 15

CHA: 20.3(-4)(-0.4)(-0.4)(-0.2)

Class Skills:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Farming - Lvl 8

Foraging - Lvl 7

Hunting - Lvl 4

Fishing - Lvl 4

Basic Crafting - Lvl 5

Basic Culinary - Lvl 4

Class Attributes:

~ Commoner(Peasant Farmer)

Hunger Resistance - Hunger status is delayed for 36 hours after a full meal. Continuous activation of attribute for more than two weeks without three days of satiation in between will trigger the Starvation Status(All stats will drop at a rate of 20% per every three-and-a-half days until status is lifted.

Hardy Folk - Stamina drain is reduced by 20% once Stamina drops below 50%. This attribute is stackable with other attributes or buffs with similar effect.

Class Penalties:

CHA: -4

Items:

Coarse cotton shirt: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.8/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Coarse cotton hoses: Aerates the body. Provides decency. +0.1% heat resistance. -0.4 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.7/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather sandals: Aerates the body. Provides protection to feet. +0.1% heat resistance. +0.5 DEF: FEET. -0.2 CHA. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 0.5/1. Weight; 1. Special effect; None.

Crude leather pouch[Storage] 12 iron coins. Three large walnuts(consumable). A smooth pebble. Conditions of Use; None. Durability; 1/1. Weight; 0.2. Special effect; None.

Equipment: None

Inventory: (EMPTY)

|END|

Clyde stared at the floating screen in front of his eyes in silence. Dumbfounded. It wasn't until several moments later that he finally snapped out of his shock.

"Wait… WTF?"

TCOB: CHAPTER TWO

Unfortunate Rebirth

Three Months Later.

On the outskirts of Ashcol Duchy,

Ethania.

…

Clyde Kim Seong-ho had always been an astute and diligent person. At age five, he had been hailed as a genius by all around him. Art, music, arithmetics, sports and even social life, none managed to prove challenging for him. Although Clyde would never willingly claim the title 'genius', which everyone he had ever met seemed to want to confer upon him, he still managed to get himself admitted into Stanford at the age of fourteen.

Fast-forward four years later, Clyde graduates from the prestigious university with a degree in psychology and immediately returns to Korea to complete his mandatory military service. Afterwards, he returned to Seoul to take over his late father's conglomerate firms.

Still, Clyde wasn't content.

Although the life of a CEO was convenient, Clyde felt somewhat constrained by it. So after three years of stabilising the conglomerate, he stepped down for his younger brother to take over before deciding to return to the US for his Masters. He returned two years later and, on the spur of the moment, joined the Korean police force.

In under seven years, he began his illustrious climb to the position of Senior Inspector. His record was impeccable. He was at the precepts of being one of the youngest and most accomplished superintendents of the Korean police force…

But yet, why? Clyde asked himself as he parried an attack aimed at crushing his skull. He pulled back his short sword as he struck at a monster's unprotected belly.

[You have dealt 157 base damage and inflicted 118.2 effective damage]

[You have inflicted Bleed status on target | Target will lose health at a rate of 5pts/sec]

[Target has resisted | status effect reduced | Target will lose health at a rate of 2pts/sec]

[Status effect induced]

[You have disembowelled a juvenile bonehound]

[You have inflicted lethal damage | Target has resisted]

[You have inflicted disembowelment status | Target will lose health at a rate of 10pts/sec]

[Status effect induced]

Ignoring the prompts that flashed in his vision, Clyde leaned away as he dodged another swipe from the dying monster. Why? he asked himself again as he turned on the sole of his left foot before dashing out of another pounce.

The transmigrator skidded to a stop just a few metres from running into another Yeoman's fight. His fellow soldier was struggling somewhat to deal with his monster, and his situation was making Clyde very worried.

Clyde wasn't particularly concerned about the fellow's well-being, but the prospect of having to deal with another monster after the Yeoman's death bothered him a lot. Thankfully though, his luck seemed to take a turn for the better as the injured monster that was assaulting him suddenly slumped over.

[You have killed a juvenile bonehound.]

[You have gained experience]

Once more ignoring the prompts, Clyde immediately turned his attention to the other monster. Raising his sword, he swung downwards at the bonehound that pinned the other Yeoman to the ground as it tried to rip the poor fellow's throat out of his body.

[You have beheaded a juvenile bonehound | You have inflicted lethal damage]

[You have killed a juvenile bonehound]

[You have gained experience]

Momentarily pausing to catch his breath, Clyde looked down at the man dressed in leather armour and wielding a short sword as he lay on the guano-covered floor. The fellow looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a respectable moustache. He wasn't particularly handsome, but neither could one say he was ugly.

"Thank you, son. For a moment there I thought I was going to die―" the fellow began as he stood up only to be interrupted as another monster pounced on him from behind. Before Clyde could even raise his sword, the bonehound had already ripped the unnamed fellow's head from the rest of his body.

The monstrous creature looked up to glance at Clyde with the fellow's skull trapped in its jaws. The man's face was frozen in an eerily thankful expression as blood dripped from his severed neck. Well, that was until the monster crunched down, splattering blood, bits of flesh and brain matter all over the place.

Ugh…

Clyde's gaze hardened as he stared at the monster in front of him. Just like the other bonehounds, it looked like something between a wolf and a mole rat, but sadly for Clyde, there were some notable differences between this and the others he had seen before it.

For one, this specimen was larger, and its wrinkly hide appeared even tougher than his previous assailants. Also examining the odd glint in its eyes and the short trail of Yeomen bodies behind it, Clyde was certain his current assailant wasn't as clueless as the rest of its smaller, less capable brethren.

This fight was gonna be a tough one.

But as the two squared off for an expectedly deadly confrontation, an armoured figure suddenly charged into their fight, bludgeoning the monster out of the way with a jousting shield. The beast was thrown about five metres into the air before it crashed into a wall, falling limp to the ground a split moment later. Dead.

Startled by the sudden interruption, Clyde did a double take as he turned his attention to the figure dashing away. Sir Justin, the transmigrator thought with a glint in his eyes. Unlike Clyde, the knight was dressed in a full suit of armour and wielded a longsword. His stride was long yet powerful, and with every swing of his sword or shield, monsters met their demise.

Yet, for some reason, the knight’s face was an expression of panic.

Clyde's gaze lagged slightly behind to notice a woman in a hooded robe running behind the armoured man, as she held to her bosom a strange wooden staff.

Miss Nai? Clyde wondered with a frown.

Why would the knight and the mage that were meant to supervise this expedition flee… unless!

Clyde didn't wait to finish his train of thought as he immediately ran after them with his sword in one hand and a lit torch in another. As Clyde was not the only one to notice the abnormality, there four other men were running alongside the transmigrator. Three Squires and a Yeoman.

Normally, it would have been hard for the weaker group to catch up with a mage using [Haste] and a fully-fledged knight, but ironically the monsters that were trying to kill them also slowed the duo down enough for Clyde and the rest to catch up.

It was then Clyde heard the knight and mage quarrelling.

"Do it!" the knight shouted.

"If I do that, they will all be trapped and killed!” Miss Nia shouted back The entire expedition would be lost!"

"There is no hope of saving them anymore! Those men are as good as dead!" the knight shouted as he swung his sword at another monster that tried to pounce at him, splitting the creature in half along its length. "If you refuse, you would be putting the entire province in danger of these monsters! This is the only way!"

The mage fell silent as she clutched harder onto her staff.

"Please Nia," Sir Justin begged. "Please!"

And so a confused Clyde watched with dumbfounded eyes as the mage resolutely raised her staff and began to visibly gather mana at the tip. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked towards the ceiling and began to mutter a spell.

"Don't you dare!" Alarmed, Clyde threw his short sword at the mage with a yell. But, before the weapon could hit its mark, the knight somehow moved to intercept the airborne weapon with his shield.

[You have dealt 157 base damage]

[You have inflicted 6.28 effective damage]

[Target has resisted]

The short sword fell to the floor with a clang.

From behind the knight's visor, his and Clyde's rage-filled gazes, illuminated by the burning torches and Nia's glowing staff, met. Above the group, a fireball materialised before shooting upwards towards the ceiling.

“Feuerwirbel!”

The spell detonated, causing the ceiling to collapse and seal the tunnel. Skidding to a stop, Clyde and the rest of the men barely managed to avoid being crushed by the falling ceiling.

"..."

Then a solemn silence descended, shrouding the small group of men in a baleful aura. They slowly turned around towards the end of the tunnel. There, they could faintly hear the heavy thudding of numerous running footsteps.

Moments later, a figure appeared from the darkness. Another bonehound, the largest Clyde had ever seen. Standing at about two-and-a-half metres in height, its muscular shoulders covered in short bony spikes faintly scraped the ceiling while long sickle-like claws on its forearm clinked on the stone floor. The bony blades glinted dimly in the dark as fresh blood dripped off their tips.

There was a bleeding gash about forty centimetres long between the monster's neck and left shoulder, as well as multiple smaller wounds littering its body. Large portions of its thick leathery armour were covered in scorch marks, but that did not make the monster look any less intimidating. Especially not with the pack of lesser bonehounds slinking hungrily behind it.

The pack's sights were locked on Clyde's group, causing the transmigrator's hairs to stand on end.

"Oh, fuck…" he muttered depressingly.

TCOB: CHAPTER ONE

No, He wouldn’t

Seoul.

"Woo Hee?"

A strange tension saturated the hotel room. Clyde Kim Seong-ho―a bi-racial middle-aged Senior Inspector with the Korean police force―stood frozen on a mattress as he held onto Woo Hee's naked waist. She was the wife of senior police officer Hyun Bin, his subordinate.

While Woo Hee's husband stared at the naked duo with betrayal in his eyes, standing beside him was Clyde's assistant, Inspector Ha Ji-won. The woman stared at the traitorous wife with a gloating expression. She seemed to be saying, “I warned (threatened) you, didn’t I? Serves you right!”

Clyde's gaze travelled between the two women, observing the exchange between them. It seems the two were well acquainted. Woo Hee's fatigued gaze held anger and resignation, while Ha Ji-won stared back glumly, obsessive jealousy glinting in her eyes.

Noticing this, Clyde frowned as he made a mental note to arrange Ha Ji-won's posting to another station. Preferably in another province. The older man had no interest in further dealing with her, especially now that she had, without any remaining doubt, proven how poor her judgment was.

Clyde turned his gaze back to his other subordinate, Hyun Bin, as his brain went into overdrive in a bid to figure out how to deal with this problem without it devolving into a scandal. His promotion was around the corner and a scandal was the last thing he needed right now.

As his mind revolved, he finally noticed something which he had failed to notice earlier.

The cuckold's face was tear-stained and an expression of betrayal marred his usually oblivious features. Yet, for some reason, there was a prominent bulge visible in his pants.

Clyde choked on his spit as he immediately swallowed the words he subconsciously wanted to say. He remembered one of the few rules he gleaned from his many years in the cucking game; When dealing cuckolds that held some leverage over you, never ridicule them.

They will ruin you.

Sadly, his choking cough didn't go unnoticed. Every other person in the room(including the cuckold) turned their gazes to Clyde and subconsciously followed his gaze back to Hyun Bin's crotch. Then the silence in the room grew heavier.

"Pfft…" Ha Ji-won failed to suppress a laugh while Woo Hee stared at her husband's reaction with a frown, a hint of ridicule in her gaze. Senior Inspector Clyde stared coldly at his assistant.

This stupid woman will ruin me, he thought sourly. He was really starting to regret his decision to seduce her.

Hyun Bin stared at his crotch in disbelief. It was almost as if his body's instinctive reaction also shocked him.

"Hyun Bin, let's talk about this―"

"Shut up!"

Clyde frowned as Hyun Bin's hysteric reaction interrupted him. Regardless of whether he fucked his wife, sister, or mother, Clyde was still his superior by three ranks. In his opinion, he felt that if he were in Hyun Bin's shoes, it would be unwise to throw away all civility when speaking with a superior regardless of the situation.

But again, what did Inspector Clyde know about being in Hyun Bin's shoes?

He wasn't a cuckold.

"I-I trusted you," Hyun Bin said with a stammer as he pointed a shivering finger at Clyde.

"Calm down, son―"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Hyun Bin yelled as he stared murderously at Clyde.

Ah… My bad, Clyde thought as he remembered he had just subconsciously broken his own rule for dealing with cuckolds. It wasn't his fault though. Very few can understand how hard it is to take a cuckold with a boner seriously.

But what could Hyun Bin do? Beat him? Clyde had been working out five days a week, every day since he was fifteen, and had received advanced close combat training immediately after joining the service. He was well prepared to handle a random cuckold's outburst―

―Hyun Bin pulled out his pistol.

Ok… Cool. Don't you think we sit down and talk about this… boss Hyun?

Clyde momentarily froze. Then he realised Hyun Bin, in his emotional state, seemed to have forgotten to turn off the safety on his weapon.

The women didn't know this though, so they still stared at Hyun Bin in shock.

"Hyun Bin! Stop!"

"Put away your weapon, Officer Hyun Bin," Ha Ji-won warned as she armed herself with the sights of her pistol aimed at the officer's head.

"I looked up to you," Hyun Bin continued, ignoring the women.

Ah, poor thing, Clyde thought with a mental chuckle as he looked down on Hyun Bin… From the mattress… As he still held up a naked and exhausted Woo Hee… With his still erect member resting snugly between her ass crack.

"I slaved for you!" Hyun Bin shouted in outrage as spit flew from his lips.

You served me… Clyde mused, unrepentant. It was poor Woo Hee that was slaved under me.

Clyde Kim Seong-ho was a terrible person lacking in conscience, but he was also a man who gave credit where credit was due.

Hyun Bin panted as he spoke. His body shook as he jabbed his finger in Clyde's direction.

"It's my fault…"

Yes, it is.

"...Ever since that day, I listened to that stupid speech of yours and allowed your words to brainwash me. Allowed myself to be blinded to the evil you truly are!"

Yes, it is your fault.. Ever since that day you foolishly placed your wife's portrait on your work desk. Who does that when they have a wife that beautiful? You wanted to show off? FOOL!

Clyde vividly remembered that afternoon when he came into the office and saw the framed photograph from across the room. Immediately after he got the unfortunate officer's name and ensconced in his office, he dug into the records and called Mrs Hyun for a cup of coffee.

The two met up two hours later at a cafe and Clyde clinically informed her about her husband's lacking aptitude and the possibility of not getting promoted for a long time. He expressed how much he admired Hyun Bin's zeal and regretted having to watch such a hardworking fellow waste away. Some things might have been slightly exaggerated, but the senior dutifully made his concerns clear and left after leaving his number in case Woo Hee needed anything.

So, being an astute wife who cared about her husband's future, Woo Hee called back after two weeks, and in under a week got her husband the promotion he probably deserved…

Clyde was snapped out of his momentary reverie as Hyun Bin turned his attention back to his wife… whose waist still hung in Clyde's arms.

"..." Realising his mistake and subconscious reluctance to release the woman whom he had locked in a reversed butter churner, Senior Inspector Clyde gently lowered Woo Hee's waist as her husband opened his mouth to speak.

"Woo Hee…" Hyun Bin said in a pained voice. "Why?"

The woman heaved tiredly as she stared back at her husband in fear. Or, more appropriately, at the weapon in his hands.

"Why?" Hyun Bin asked again. His gaze flickered dimly as he tried to rationalise the scene before him. "...D-did he blackmail you?"

Clyde squinted at him. Simp.

The inspector turned his attention back to the woman on the mattress, squinting still as he awaited her response.

"...No."

Good, Clyde thought in relief. I thought for a second there that I would need to dig out those voice recordings from my cloud drive.

"No?" Hyun Bin asked in barely suppressed outrage. "Then why?"

Woo Hee fell silent.

She clearly remembered she was the one who suggested 'sponsoring' Hyun Bin's promotion after two weeks of debate and consultation with her good friends.

She also remembered the effort she had to put into seducing Inspector Clyde to even consider getting in bed with her. Clyde, after coming forth to express his concerns about an untalented, but hardworking junior wanted to refuse but fell for her trap and was later guilt-tripped into granting her husband a promotion.

But that was meant to be a one-time thing, right? Then why? Why was she in his bed again after six months? Woo Hee didn't want to admit it, but she craved the older man. She craved his prowess. His attention. She craved the way he held her, the way he dominated her, and the care and attention he showered her afterwards. That feeling was something she knew her beloved husband could never give her… even in a hundred years.

Woo Hee loved Hyun Bin… but the feelings she had for him when they got married had faded very, very quickly in the light of Clyde's ministrations.

The young woman didn't know what to say, so she replied. "...I-I don't know."

Hyun Bin's eyes lost their light, and the weapon in his hands was slowly lowered.

He sighed desolately as he turned around. "Let's go…"

Simp, Clyde, and Ha Ji-won thought in unison as they watched him leave.

Woo Hee hesitated as she subconsciously glanced up at Clyde and his member, which was hanging at half-mast. Despite Clyde's opposing thoughts, the body of the virile officer was being honest with itself. It was not one to leave its tasks half-done.

"...No," Woo Hee said finally, after a momentary debate. Both Clyde and Hyun Bin froze.

The cuckold turned around slowly.

Clyde's head turned slowly to face the woman.

Ha Ji-won's jaw fell slightly. But after a second of contemplation, a comprehending light flickered in her eyes.

Woo Hee, who was looking down ashamedly couldn't see the murderous look in Hyun Bin's eyes.

"...L-Let's," she stammered painfully, "let's get a divorce."

Clyde Kim Seong-ho, Ha Ji-won, and Hyun Bin all froze at the declaration. Clyde was in disbelief. Understanding flashed in Ha Ji-won's gaze, but she still couldn't believe Woo Hee dared to say it. Hyun Bin's eyes finally lost the last embers of light in them as he fell into insanity.

The pin-drop silence was suddenly broken by Hyun Bin's deranged chuckle. He lifted his pistol, turned off the safety with a click, and aimed. He definitely knew what he was doing and truly deserved that promotion.

Clyde also knew this, that was why he thought. No, he wouldn't―

Bang.

But the cuckold did.

…

Afterword.

Thanks to Hyun Bin's noble sacrifice, Earth has once again been rid of another scourge. The martyr's contribution to the safety of unfortunate, neglectful, beta, or naïve husbands worldwide will never be forgotten.

Due to the machinations of Inspector Ha Ji-won(now Senior Inspector), the hero, Hyun Bin, now spends the rest of his life reflecting on his life choices in Seoul Correctional Institute, Seoul, for the murder of Inspector Clyde Kim Seong-ho. His possessions and life-savings have been succeeded by his wife of three years, Hyun Woo-Hee, and his twin―strangely western-looking―sons.

May his noble soul forever rest in peace.

Amen.

TCOB: PROLOGUE

Ah, Women… [NTR|BDSM]

Seoul

Clyde's gaze—weathered by the vicissitudes of life—stared out the window of his hotel room as he admired the mystical scenery that was the bustling megacity of Seoul. His grizzled stubble granted a spartan shade to his already chiselled features, and the Western blood flowing in his Korean veins added to his already exotic charm.

Slick sweat dripped down the firm bundle of muscle, bones and tendons that were Clyde's torso. His nude hips oscillated in a rhythmic motion as he drove his manhood down the throat of a petite, raven-haired woman. The air was saturated with the thick musk of sex.

"Unng. Umm. Mmmm."

His willing victim laid on her back on a mattress with her head hanging off the edge. With unholy dexterity, he drove his member down her gullet in steady, repetitive thrusts. Her arms wrapped around his thighs as he grabbed onto the sides of her face for traction. The young woman squirmed pathetically in the face of his girth. The manacles restraining her ankles made her token effort at mock resistance even more futile.

Grunting minutely with every thrust, Senior Inspector Clyde glanced down at the apprehended woman. A suspect detained under the charges of attempted infanticide…

She choked as she began shaking her head left and right…trying to create more space for his probing phallus―meticulous in proving her innocence―but her tiny throat could only take so much length. As he watched the beauty below—trying to force his shaft deeper down her throat despite struggling to breathe—Clyde became more aroused. His manhood throbbed inside her tiny mouth…expanding as even more blood flowed into its veins.

*Gasp* *Gasp*

Gazing down and seeing only her chin...with his member filling up her throat, Clyde's manhood pulsated again… Grabbing her soft tits and rubbing them, he started to thrust even harder!

*Garg*

*Uguh*

*Uguhh*

Her throat made sounds every time he shoved himself into it…with an occasional coughing choke where he pulled out, letting her gasp for air as globs of saliva rolled down her face…

On each insertion, Clyde endeavoured to go as far as he could with his testicles slapping against her nose.

It didn't take long before sudden heat and powerful sensations started to overload his nerves! It was then he ejaculated. Thick strands of semen shot into his victim's throat. There was too much to swallow upside-down, so the suspect kept spitting it out. Semen slid down her face. Even going up her nose and causing her choking to worsen.

A short while later, after his manhood had stopped pulsating, Clyde took a step back to better investigate the situation.

The suspect was caught white-faced… a mix of her saliva and his sticky semen that never stopped sliding down coated her face. Some even got into her long black hair, though most collected in a large round pool on the floor.

Clyde squinted slightly at the crime scene.

“I see…” he muttered thoughtfully, “guilty as charged!”

With renewed vigour, Clyde grabbed a fistful of her hair before tossing her away from the edge of the bed onto the centre.

"Mmmm~" The suspect released a pleasured moan as she rolled over with her legs spread apart. Her eyes were hazy as she gazed at the older man.

"Ah… Clyde~"

"Who are you?" The inspector asked calmly as he climbed onto the bed. He towered over her with his schlong dangling freely, casting a grim shadow on her face.

"Nnnngh~"

The officer frowned. He reached down towards the manacles binding the suspect's ankles and lifted.

Suspending more than half her entire weight from the fluff-padded restraint, Clyde struck. Rugged fingers―calloused from years of voluntary fieldwork―wormed their way into her sex.

"Ahhh~"

"Who are you?" Clyde asked again, this time holding her little sister hostage. He glared down at her as his fingers began pistoning into the organ with ruthless abandon.

"Ugh…B-bitch," the suspect slurred. "Y-your bitch. I am your bitch. F-fuck me~"

"Are you ordering me… bitch?" Clyde asked with a sneer.

"N-no."

Clyde's sneer deepened. His fingers pistoned faster.

"Mmmh~ P-lease… Have mercy."

"You have been bad, Woo Hee…"

"Y-yes master. Woo Hee has been a bad girl. P-please punish me~"

Clyde snorted disdainfully as he suddenly pulled and locked his victim in a butter churner. Grasping his member as it pulsed with renewed vigour, he lined its length with her exposed lips before skillfully plunging in.

"Ahhhh~" Woo Hee moaned as Clyde churned her insides with the dexterity of a seasoned buttermaid from the legendary province of Friesland. He pounded her into the mattress with the intensity of a pneumatic pile driver. The bed creaked underneath as the young wife received his unholy ministrations.

Clyde pistoned as he suddenly felt Woo Hee's sex constrict around his member and her spine stiffen. Without hesitation, he twisted and flipped the young woman over onto her chest before placing one foot on her head. With the leverage granted by this improvised kickstand, his positioning speed increased!

Woo Hee twitched as she orgasmed. But the ruthless officer did not pull out of her case…

Purse?

The sound of his testicles slapping against her sex filled the room!

He was pounding it!

Posting on top of her, Clyde continued pile-driving his way inside despite her orgasm.

*Slap*

As if punishing her for daring to climax without permission, the older man slapped the young wife across the buttocks, leaving behind a reddish handprint.

"Ahh~" Woo Hee moaned as her insides clenched on the intruding organ with every slap.

*Slap*

"Mmmh~"

*Slap*

"Annn~"

Each time Clyde entered deep inside her, a shock spread down her cervix, womb, and the rest of her body…making Woo Hee's face distort with pleasure… Once again, drool leaked out of her mouth as she lost touch with the rest of her body.

"Mnnnn~"

"Annngg~" Woo Hee cried. "Master is controlling me... He's doing anything he wants to me... He's dominating me!"

"Shut up, bitch." Clyde grunted as he raised his hand again. "Shut the fuck up and receive my seed."

*Slap*

"Unng! Yes, m-master."

Soon, with his continuous abuse, Woo Hee couldn't resist another orgasm. Her hands gripped the bed sheets as her sex clenched around Clyde’s member. The young woman twitched and squirmed as a stream of body fluids dripped down from her folds.

The officer held the squirming woman firm so she couldn't escape. Despite feeling her insides resisting his intrusion, he didn't stop pistoning. Soon, he also felt a burn in his testicles.

"UGH!" Clyde grunted as he tossed his head back. His body twitched as thick strands of semen pumped out of his phallus into her pussy until it started bursting out the seam.

Panting, Clyde rubbed the young woman's buttocks. Having enjoyed ravaging her so much, he looked down at her in contentment. Like a craftsman proud of his work.

Then, he pulled out and watched as loads of semen spilt from her sex onto the mattress.

But as he admired his handiwork, the inspector heard a voice he thought he would never hear then.

"W-woo… Hee?"

Clyde spun around to see a young man dressed in an officer's uniform standing at the entrance to the hotel room, staring at Woo Hee’s battered form.

'How is that door open?' Clyde thought, confused and mildly shocked.

The cuckold's face was tear-stained and an expression of betrayal marred his usually oblivious features. Yet, for some reason, a prominent bulge was visible in his pants.

“How?” Clyde thought as he looked back at the woman whose ass was still in his hands as she stared shell-shocked at her husband. Despite this, though, Woo Hee's eyes held much more exhaustion and contentment than fear...

Clyde looked back at his hands and realised he was still grabbing Woo Hee's buttocks… But for some reason, he wasn't even willing to let go yet. He knew he could still go one more round.

Sadly… He was caught ass-handed.

“Ai… later then,” mused the senior inspector.

Clyde looked back at the man and finally noticed another officer―a woman―standing behind the cuck as she pouted with a glare at Clyde. Her stern gaze held a hint of jealousy.

It was then Senior Inspector Clyde realized the root of the problem.

“Ah…” he thought ruefully as he clicked his tongue.

“Women…”

The Creed of Obscenity

Who is Clyde?  

Clyde is enigmatic. 

He is perverse... Astute, deceitful, charming. He is depraved, patient, and a tad sociopathic. He is the embodiment of licentiousness. He is Obscene.  The unfortunate victim of a cuckold's rage, Clyde Kim—an excellent policeman—is reincarnated in the mystifying world of Ethania, only to have a new destiny forced upon him. In a brutal wonderland where magic and strange beings abound, is our villain destined to fall into the abyss of beta-hood and never rise again...  

Or will he rise from the ashes to reign as a true man of culture?  

This is Clyde's creed... 

The Creed of Obscenity

TRW: CHAPTER EIGHT

Lines in the Sand

I returned to my residence, irritated and disappointed, to find a rather peculiar sight.

"What is this?" I asked as stared at the two plates set before me

"Dinner, My Prince," Ma Yili answered, her voice a timid, barely audible whisper.

"I can see that," I grunted. "I meant... why?"

The girl blinked. "Is the food not to your liking?" she asked.

With a tired sigh, I retrieved a pair of silver chopsticks from my spatial ring before making a show of poking the bowl of stir-fried chicken, nuts, and vegetables. Swirling the painstakingly prepared meal with the utensil, I found myself unamused as I watched Ma Yili's seemingly docile expression slowly fade away to make way for a dark scowl.

I hummed as I toyed with the blackened utensil dangling from my fingers before plucking a particularly succulent-looking chunk of meat and tossing it in my mouth. "Who got you the ingredients?" I asked, swallowing.

"A servant from the kitchen," the girl answered with a shrug, her voice a flat, unenthusiastic drone. "The rest are the from the garden."

I hummed again even as her scowl only deepened as I made a show of eating another morsel of the poisoned meal.

"...I forgot your mother was your village's most skilled apothecary," I told the girl as I plucked a crisp-looking vegetable from the bowl before tossing it in my mouth. "It must not have been hard for you to trick those fools in the kitchen to procure all the herbs you would need to craft the poison you used to lace this meal you just served to me. Tell me, girl, what were you thinking would happen?"

"...Go find a hole to die in, you sick bastard!" she snapped, her tone venomous.

"Let me tell you what you were thinking would happen," I continued, completely disregarding her outburst. "In that pretty little head of yours, you might have imagined me gullibly eating this and keeling over the next second. Well, let me tell you—urk!"

Clutching my chest, I fell to my side, my eyes growing bloodshot as my body spasmed on the floor. My guards watched the display passively, seemingly unconcerned about my well-being. Ma Yili on the other hand stared blankly at me, her scowl morphing into confusion and then disbelief as she reached for my suddenly still body, vengeful hope glinting in her eyes.

I snatched her outstretched arm, yanking her towards me. The girl collided into my chest with a muffled scream as a disappointed sigh broke free from my maw.

"Darling, did you really, for a second, believe that mortal poisons could work on a cultivator?" I asked the girl; her scowl returning with full force. The girl squirmed as she felt my hands wandering, groping at the more succulent parts of her body. I brushed aside the poisoned bowls of spirit rice and kung pao before simply laying her on the cushion and sliding on top of her. Her resistance as usual was a brief and utterly ineffective affair; an aroused gasp escaped her lips as I sheathed myself in her moments later.

"You should know this Prince has very little patience for stunts like this," I told her as I fucked away. "Go bring the maid that got her the ingredients," I instructed the warrior eunuch behind us. “I want her flayed for her negligence.”

Comprehending the order, Ma Yili started struggling frantically beneath me, her eyes pleading; desperate. "Please!" she screamed. "Stop! *ah* Stop him! *ah* Zhou Xun didn't know! She is innocent! *ugh* Please punish me instead—"

"You ought to know by now that things can never be so simple, My dear," I whispered into her ear, silencing her as I fucked her still, my strokes long and deep. "Of course, I could pardon you both and let this slide, after all, the fact that my guards let you even put this before me is a testament to how little a threat you pose to my well-being ... I would normally ignore your little antics, Ma Yili, allowing you a little defiance now and then—after all, I am a benevolent master—but this?

"...This is crossing a line."

"Then punish me instead!" she gasped desperately as I fucked her into the futon beneath us.

"I am punishing you. I just won't hurt you, Ma Yili; you are far too important to me. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt those you care about."

"...Then I kill myself!"

I paused, allowing one of my brows to rise in amusement as her dainty legs subconsciously tightened around my waist; she probably didn't even notice. 

"You would commit suicide?"

"Yes! I will bite my tongue off if you don't pardon Zhou Xun!"

The girl in question was brought in at that moment. I turned my gaze to regard her. "You provided the ingredients my concubine used to prepare my meal?" I asked the beautiful, pale-faced girl. 

Had the sect not recently stooped to needlessly provoking me I might have been deceived into believing they welcomed my presence here with how all the maidservants sent to serve me possessed all the characteristics my predecessor was infamous for seeking out when hunting for a new member of his vast harem.

"...Y-yes, My Prince," the maid stammered fearfully, apparently confused. I had mostly ignored her and her fellow servants since my arrival to the sect so it was not surprising she would find the sudden attention she was receiving from me unnerving.

"Well? What are you waiting for," I drawled as my gaze swivelled to the guard standing menacingly behind her. “Flay her.”

"Stop! I will—"

"You will what?" I interrupted the girl beneath me as my guard slowly unsheathed his blade, much to the profound horror of the maid before him. "You want to commit suicide?” I chuckled. “Go ahead. But, I will have you know that this Prince is not one to take a loss lightly. If I can't have you for whatever reason, you can be certain the people of Baiyun will be the ones to bear my wrath...

"You haven't yet seen my wrath, Ma Yili."

I held the girl's gaze as she slowly fell silent, her eyes watering, possibly at the thought of having to choose between her village's safety or the well-being of the innocent woman she had just willfully implicated.

"Smart as you are, sometimes I forget you are still just a foolish little girl lacking in wisdom," I told her as I resumed having my way with her.

"Once you are done," I said to the guard behind us, "tan and hang the hide on the bedroom wall where my beloved here won't miss it; a reminder of where exactly I drew the line in the sand."