《Netheril’s Glory 》Chapter 18: The battle begins
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These undeads also have souls. The small green flame burning inside the eyes of these skeletons was their only weakness.
Only by extinguishing that soul flame, can someone truly kill these undeads. Otherwise, even after crushing their bones or burning them to ashes, they will not die; it will only delay them for a while.
The souls of these skeletons are not their original souls, which they had when they were alive. Because when life dies, their soul is either taken away by the gods or swallowed by the will of haven. Without the help of external force, it is almost impossible to stay in a fleshly body after death.
Therefore, the soul of these undeads was ultimately a newly born existence under the erosion of death.
And their soul's level was not much higher than a rat or rabbit, and because of this, most of the undeads were not intelligent, they just wander around instinctively all day.
Also, because a professional's power almost entirely comes from their soul, even if these wandering undeads were once strong professional before their death, they will not inherit their previous strength and professional level after turning into undeads.
But, if they were the type of professional, who tempers the soul and the body together, In that case, there is some chance that after turning into undeads, can still have some of their former strength.
But if they were the type that specializes in soul tempering, like the mages, Then their strength will drop drastically.
Among the undeads, wandering in the grove now, there was about five undead who have obviously dressed better than the rest, even though their clothes were in tatters, it was still noticeable.
It also can't hide the slight magic fluctuations coming from the inscriptions on their armors and weapons. The intensity and brightness of their soul flames were also higher than the other undeads.
And the surrounding undeads will instinctively give way when they were passing by.
Soon, the results of the system's analysis came out. These undeads were actually warriors,
amongst them, the lowest was level two, and the highest was level four! This means that they were at least apprentice-level fighters during their lifetime!
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In the middle of the woods, Punk even saw a figure wearing a robe, which shows that this unknown branch of Camos' army had its own army mage.
Punk's expression began to become more subtle. An army regiment with several apprentice-level powerhouses is definitely an existence that can turn the tide of a battle in ordinary people's wars. For a small kingdom like Camos, it is definitely the elite of the elites. It's not an exaggeration to say that "you can't hold it in your hands for fear of falling off, and can't hold it in your mouth for fear of melting,"
But now, these elites and valuable troops were inexplicably killed on this inconspicuous small wasteland.
No one will believe that it's not a significant event.
But Punk was not concerned about these uncertain thoughts; he was more concerned about the wandering corpses themselves, or more importantly, the equipment on them, those armours and weapons that emitted a faint halo.
Although they were eroded by the undead's breath; still, there were weak magic fluctuations in them. This kind of magical fluctuations can qualify these as magic equipment. Even in the worst case, broken down into raw materials, these can be sold at around two or three hundred gold coin.
Punk looked at the two skeleton wearing robe, wandering in the depths of the woods. Then he couldn't help but touch his smooth chin with his hands.
"It is pretty intriguing to think about how much treasure those trainee level powerhouses had when they were alive!"
Punk finally decided to explore the woods. No matter how strong these skeletons were in their lifetime, now they were just a bunch of apprentice-level bones without wisdom. Punk was pretty sure to win with his two trainee-level equipment. Also, Punk's powerful perception capabilities and system's analysis have not discovered any hidden dangers nearby, so he no longer hesitated to act in front of the possibility of gaining such a large amount of wealth.
Although Punk does not like to take risks, it does not mean that he will let great opportunities slip away without feeling absolute danger to his life.
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"And...I also have a trusty helper, don't I?" Punk looked to his side, and a sneer became visible at the corner of his mouth.
Not far from the forest of the undead, the female priest has taken out a round emblem inlaid with gems and was ready to fight!
"Miss Pastor, although we had some small misunderstandings on the road, we are now facing an evil enemy. I think we should join hand to purge this darkness." Punk said with a natural tone while performing a noble etiquette to the female priest.
This pastor was lower level than Punk, and she also doesn't have any good equipment. If she really wants to "purify the evil", she will definitely consider his proposal.
The priest first seemed to be taken aback by Punk's word, then frowned and finally became a little embarrassed. Still, in the end, she chose the latter, between the options of "Fighting alone after rejecting the disgusting mage" or "Joining hands to purify the evil."
Hence, she posed aggrieved expression, confessed to the "God of Light" for the sin of cooperating with a mage with a volume that was just enough so Punk can hear it, and spared no effort to belittle the mage, while praying for forgiveness from the gods with tears.
Although Punk knew that this was the female priest's expression of her compromise, he still was very irritated after hearing her prayer.
He really wanted to send her to the God of Light directly. But finally, Punk simply ignored the religious lunatic's nonsense. He began to prepare his spells.
First, He shot a secondary catapult, aiming at the level 3 apprentice skeleton warrior closest to him, holding a long sword. Punk completed the spell incantation, like in that of a fantasy drama. After that, the stone disappeared ethereally. Then, a flash of light flashed, and the stone was about to hit the head of the undead skeleton precisely. If this spell land, then the kinetic energy of the secondary catapult will rush inside the undead's skull, affectively crushing the burning soul flame,
But at this critical moment, the skeleton with the sword quickly turned his because of the muscle memory he had exercised before his death, making the punk spell miss.
Facing this sudden attack, the undead was frozen for a while, then turned his head and saw Punk.
The soul flame suddenly started to burn more vigorously in its eyes, and it opened its mouth to the extent of dislocation and made a silent roar.
It was provoked.
The priest girl, on the other side, did not fallback. She lowered her head, put the round badge close to her chest, and started her ethereal and firm prayer; it became louder and louder. Suddenly a golden ornate Warhammer phantom was forming on top of the other warrior, wearing a helmet.
The Warhammer became more and more solid, and in just two seconds, it became like a real hammer.
The Warhammer started to fell with lightning speed while burning with a golden flame. The skeleton's extraordinary helmet was immediately covered with cracks, and the golden flame passed through the gaps in the armor and started to burn the bones inside.
But, this undead warrior's bones once belonged to a trainee level powerhouse, so after the soul flame in the eyes of the undead became a little dim, the undead resisted the attack.
After that, it rushed towards the female priest in extreme anger while wearing the cracked helmet, and In the process of running, it blew dust everywhere!
At the same time, the undead provoked by Punk also began to charge at him. The grey-black death aura was wrapped around the long rusty sword and also emanating through the gaps in the undead's armor! And now, there were several blue-green flashes of brilliance faintly flowing on the initially pale bones.
The Punk who initiated the "secondary teleportation" was already waiting for it. With deep eyes that glowed in blue brilliance, he looked at the skeleton warrior with a long sword just three meters away from him, just after a single step.
Opening his lips slightly, he sighed in a faint tone!
"The game is on!"
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An Unwavering Craftsman
Given the hereditary nature of classes, everyone expects Damien—the child of two high-tiered adventurers—to be granted a high-tier combat class of his own. Expectations are betrayed, however, when Damien finds himself instead saddled with a crafting class of the lowest possible tier: [Neophyte Tailor]. Left practically crippled compared to those with better classes, Damien wants to avoid becoming a pawn in the machinations of the nobility, desiring only to grind his level in peace while wondering why the usual rules of inheritance were broken. Was it his desire to excel by his own effort, rather than an unearned blessing from a god? Did the Five take offence at his opinions on the unfairness of hereditary classes? Or maybe it was something to do with the alien voice that intruded on his ceremony? A voice that offers great power, and freedom from the tyranny of the Five, but that never names its price. This story is litRPG-lite. While the class someone possesses controls most of their lives, people don't get dinged at for every level they gain, nor can they see their status without undergoing a special ritual. The MC has no romantic interest. Crafting is merely a way to game the system, and doesn't feature heavily in the story, aside from a few descriptions on how they're carrying out the system abuse. There is, on one unfortunate occasion, maths. The pace is quick. This was a participant in the Spring 2022 writathon. (i.e. it was posted as-written at high speed. I may give it another editing pass in the future.)
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