Part 1

Upon a hill of swords, a nameless man sat.

He is called by many things, a guardian, a savior, a murderer. He is known by many and none at the same time. A paradox that exists outside of time and space; none of the world's laws apply to him.

Some would call him a hero.

Yet the man only views himself as a fool trapped in his own personal hell, unable to move on and unable to feel anything but regret. Trapped in eternal musing of what could have been.

He is a sword.

He is a faceless guardian chosen by the nameless.

Without any worldly desire, he is a man who would eventually be dragged to the deepest of the abyss in time, should he continue his path.

But that is a story for another time.

Sensing the presence of the entity that enslaved him, the sword stopped his musings.

What appeared in front of him was an orb.

Alaya did not view itself as a human despite being the collective unconsciousness. Instead, it tends to present itself as a system that contains a wealth of information.

This was the entity that he had sold his soul to.

The sword did not deign to stand, merely staring at the orb to show his response. His face betrayed no emotion. He had seen the spectacle countless times to even feel anything.

Briefly, he wondered.

What is it this time?

Destruction of humanity? Some fool who had accidentally opened a path to the root? Or perhaps the fourth beast had awakened yet again.

Then again it might be another cleaning job.

He had no further interest in the reason. He would do his job and that was it. There was no emotion needed. There was nothing else to consider. He was nothing but a tool of humanity.

The orb did not made any sounds.

Nevertheless, information traveled to his mind. It was like data being downloaded and processed in his brain. Alaya did not talk. It doesn't have any reason to.

He expected the usual but what was presented to him was nothing he had encountered before.

A world enveloped by darkness

A great evil was being awakened

The gods doing nothing but casting die

Creatures freely roaming the world

Innocent people taking the brunt of everything

A world that needed a savior…

The flow of information stopped. The exchange did not last for more than half a minute yet the sword felt like he had read an entire book. The amount of information was too much to be processed at once.

He huffed in annoyance.

This time it was different.

Yet his objective still remained the same.

Humanity has to survive.

Part 2

His arrival did go unnoticed.

Considering he materialized inside of a desolated ruin, there wasn't really much to say. The walls were old and cracked, he was sure that there was something painted on it long ago but it was hard to tell now.

The scent struck him next.

He was not alone it seems.

Something inhuman was dwelling in the ruin. The smell of something rotten moving around assaulted his nose.

His ears could also hear the metal clanging loudly.

His mind automatically prepared his course of actions. The actions he could take were not as broad as his last job considering the uniqueness of this current job.

He gripped his hand.

The muscle stretched and strained as he did.

He had a body.

It was a physical body, not an artificial one that was normally given to him when on a job. This body was weak. He could feel his strength diminished. This body needed rest, sustenance.

How annoying.

His face scrunched up in distaste and he had to remind himself that this job was different than the rest.

He had no time limit.

He had to carefully consider his actions. His very being was against the wills of the gods that reside in this world. He was an outsider.

He was alone

He had nothing

Alaya cannot support him like usual. This time, there was no unlimited mana for him to use. He could not spam countless swords and bathe his enemies in death. This body had the same restrictions when he was alive.

That alone was a massive disadvantage.

Trace, on.

His body heated up as the aria was pronounced. Twenty seven circuits opened one by one, humming as the energy flowed through them. The quality was a little better than when he was alive, but it was still lacking.

At this current state, he could do fifteen or twenty high quality projections at most before this body reached its limit. Meaning he had to recover prana and od naturally.

Alaya was truly powerless in this world

How truly… annoying.

He was given an impossible task with this kind of body?

He huffed.

Leave it to Alaya to make his afterlife miserable.

Part 3

Spearman greedily drank air as he killed another undead.

The quest that his party took was the subjugation of a necromancer that had rooted himself in this place. The reward had been a sack of gold from the temple that hired him and the Witch.

He should have thought that it wouldn't be that easy.

Releasing a great battle cry, his spear latched towards the nearest undead. The tip buried itself on the undead's chest but did nothing to stop it. He gritted his teeth and exerted more strength to throw the undead into the others.

This place was crawling with undead.

He had stopped counting when he had killed somewhere along fifty.

On hindsight, maybe it was a bad idea to storm the hideout of a necromancer with only two people.

From behind him, a ball of fire struck the group of undead, immediately turning them to ashes. It was a powerful spell called Prominent Fireball from his companion.

Witch exhaled a slow breathe as she held onto her staff.

"Witch, how many Spells do you have left?"

A person of Witch's caliber was rare to found. A silver ranked mage was fewer than scout's and it was a blessing for Spearman to have her in his party. Still, despite her rank, Witch still faces the same troubles as anyone.

Namely, the limit of the Spells she could perform every day.

"I still can do around five more, Spearman, I recommend that we, retreat for now. There could be more undead, the nearer we get to the Necromancer."

Spearman pursed his lips. They had been inside this ruin for half a day. During that time, they had faced a lot of undead. They were naturally exhausted and running low on power.

But if they leave now, the Necromancer would be able to replenish his undead… or even leave this place.

Still, he was not an idiot. One did not reach the silver rank by being reckless. He would not risk the life of his party for a sack of gold… even if it hurts his pride.

"Fine. Let's hire Heavy Warrior and his party next time…"

Spearman frowned. This was a failed mission but it would be better to retreat now than face the unknown number of undead in this place. Well, whatever, maybe he'd just drink to his heart's content or chat Guild Girl to forget about this failure.

The two of them were about the exit to the corridor when a large movement resounded.

Spearman widened his eyes and adopted a fighting stance while Witch raised her staff in front of them.

[Leaving like that after disturbing my home? I think not… adventurers!]

What came out from the darkness was a massive skeleton covered in pitch black armor and sword.

"Wh-what the heck is that?!"

The figure was a monstrosity over four meters tall. Covered with armor from head to toe, its hands that look like it could fit a person's head inside its palms were holding two swords respectively.

Spearman and Witch had faced their own share of monsters before but this was the first time they had seen this kind of creature.

Before Witch could respond, the hulking enemy rushed at the two of them.

Fast!

In just a second the monster had traveled five meters and was in front of them. Spearman met his attack head on, blocking the bastard sword with the body of his spear.

"Guh!"

It wasn't even a contest of strength.

Spearman who was called as the Frontier's Strongest was blown away from the massive power behind the attack.

Part 4

Fire that lights even the darkest of nights

I beg to borrow your power

I hereby call

Prominent Fireball!

The Spell that Witch unleashed was something akin to her trademark spell. She had received this particular spell when she had received the rank of silver years ago.

It was also her most powerful attack available.

The enemy who could only be the Necromancer was hit by her Spell and was send a few meters away from the force. During that time, Witch had run towards Spearman who was still down from their clash.

"Spearman!"

Her party member groaned as she tried to stand. It was clear that he was wounded from the blood that escaped the corners of his mouth.

"We must leave now. The enemy is too much for us!"

The two of them had been exhausted fighting the hordes of undead. It was clear that they had no chance winning the enemy with tired bodies.

[And what makes you think that you can leave here alive?]

Witch's blood ran cold as she heard the voice.

Naturally, the enemy stood right behind them.

But how? How the enemy still be moving after being hit by her most powerful spell?

She had no time to ponder as her body exploded in pain.

Both Witch and Spearman bounced off the wall as they were kicked with astounding force.

[You come in my home and destroy my creations. Now you think you can simply leave without consequences?]

The Necromancer's booming voice shook the hall.

In her state, Witch saw that her spell had melted off the armor of the massive skeleton. From inside, she could see glimpses of the human that was controlling the hulking figure.

[No… the price for your crimes shall be your lives!]

Her body ached as she tried to move.

Beside her, Spearman who looked like a mess stood while clutching his spear. His breathing was ragged and he was wounded all over.

"W-Witch… get out of here. I-I'm gonna fight him."

Ah… this is bad. Her clouded brain could not think of anything to save them. Maybe if she didn't let go of her staff she could do something. Anything to support Spearman.

"I-idiot. Do I look like I can get far in this state?"

Just a single kick from the armored monstrosity was enough to break some of her bones. The fact that it could move faster than them meant that there was no possible escape.

Their enemy was a necromancer… there was no doubt what would happen to their bodies afterwards. But what if Necromancer had other plans for them?

Her limp body shook.

The fear from her early adventuring career had come back. She had thought that she had surpassed the fear of death and torture… but it was clear that that wasn't the case.

The enemy had started walking towards them.

No… not like this.

She did not want to die like this.

She still hasn't…

Spearman released a war cry as he charged towards Necromancer.

"Caladbolg!"

A blue light drowned the hall and made everyone close their eyes. The place shook as whatever that thing is proceeded to destroy everything in its path. Witch could hear the ruin breaking as the seconds passed.

The moment she opened her eyes, she took note of the fact that Necromancer was gone and Spearman was blown away.

There was also a giant hole from where the blue light had traveled.

Just what happened?

The sound of footsteps made Witch and Spearman turn to the direction where the blue light had came from.

The dust settled as a figure of man appeared.

Clad in black leather vest and strapped pants, the man possessed a white hair and tanned skin in the likes of those who lived in the desert. His steel colored eyes scanned the hall like a hawk until finally, his gaze settle on them.

"Wh-who the heck are you?"

Spearman grunted as he supported himself.

The unknown man blinked at looked closer at Spearman. He closed his eyes a moment later and adopted a smirk.

"Just… a simple Bowman."

Part 5

Name: Bowman

Class: None

Stats:

STR: D (C)

AGL: C (B)

END: D (C)

MP: B

NP: ?