Our story kicks off in an ancient era when the world was basically just a giant soup of formless magical energy—a spiritual void with absolutely zero vibes. Then, the Ruler showed up and did exactly one thing: He told the land to “exist.” Just like that, the magic soup dried up into solid ground, and the leftovers floated up to obey the Ruler’s command, becoming the clouds.
At least, that was the lore Augustus was reading to the small boy sitting beside him. The child, William, listened politely for a moment before voicing his “deep” thoughts, claiming what he really needed to know was the technical relationship between words and magical energy. This annoyed Augustus slightly—after all, he was teaching for free, and he expected the kid to at least listen to the world-building before asking about the magic system. William took the hint, shut his mouth, and sat there like a good student.
Augustus continued his lecture. After the land and sky dropped, the moon and sun formed, followed by everything from fire to lightning. Eventually, other gods appeared, and because you can’t have a party without a party pooper, the King of Evil was born. To counter this, language was invented to define the evil. This origin story established the bond between the gods, which is exactly why writing things down makes magic happen. To prove his point, Augustus wrote a word in the air. Instantly, the text burst into flames because the word meant “Fire.” He then wrote another word, likely “Erase,” over it, and the flames vanished faster than a free sample at Costco.
When class was dismissed, William headed to the Temple. Being the nerd he is, he had already memorized the names of every god in order. He stopped in front of the statue of Gracefeel. Beneath the statue was an inscription in an ancient language, but it was cut off mid-sentence. William immediately realized it was written that way on purpose—probably so people wouldn’t accidentally nuke the room by reading it out loud.
Suddenly, a girl approached and tapped him on the shoulder. It was Mary. Noticing his interest, she explained that Gracefeel was the deity responsible for the reincarnation of souls, the child of the Lightning God Whirlin and the Earth Mother Mater. Mary was a huge fangirl of Mater because she blessed everything from the soil to humanity; naturally, she was the most respected of the six major gods.
Mary declared, “Today’s lesson ends here,” and was about to drag William home for dinner when Blood suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Blood immediately showed off the loot he had brought specifically for William: a massive wild boar he had hunted, proving that you don’t need muscles to bring home the bacon.
The meal was served quickly, and William began thanking Blood profusely. Blood simply smiled, then dropped the bombshell that the boy was now old enough to go hunting and learn the fine art of unaliving other creatures. Those words unsettled William, filling him with sadness. When Mary noticed this, she immediately shouted at Blood, arguing that it was far too early for a toddler to be learning about murder. Augustus, who had been lurking in the corner, agreed with her and joined the debate. William was only three years old, yet he could read books and memorize facts like a supercomputer—clear proof of his genius. He was meant to be a scholar, not a barbarian running around the woods poking things with sharp sticks as Blood suggested.
Naturally, this sparked a bickering match between Blood and Augustus. Despite Blood being a literal skeleton with a somewhat spooky aesthetic, he was surprisingly soft-hearted. William picked up a piece of bread and asked Mary curiously when she had baked it. It was a “secret” that Mary couldn’t tell him, a dynamic William had understood since birth. He had lived his entire life with these three, and each of them harbored secrets. He often wondered what brought this trio together and why they were undead, yet he never pressed them. Why? Because William was a hypocrite who carried the biggest secret of all: he was a reincarnated soul from another world.
Rewind to the day William first arrived in this world: when Blood, Mary, and Augustus first loomed over him, he was terrified, convinced he was about to become a light snack. But Mary had gently patted his head, calming his fears. Six months later, Mary took him outside the temple for the first time. The sensation of sunlight, the deep blue sky, and the scent of grass hit him like a truck. Overwhelmed, William burst into tears. He had initially assumed this world was hell, but in that moment, he realized it was a blessing. Someone had hit the reset button on his life. Clenching his tiny fist, he vowed to actually touch grass and live this life properly.
Back in the present, William‘s routine continued. Mornings were for getting beaten up—err, training in swordsmanship—with Blood. Afternoons were for studying magic with Professor Augustus. While his sword skills were average, William was a magic prodigy. He could memorize and replicate Augustus‘s lessons instantly. However, Augustus insisted that while magic was cool, there was something far more important: cold, hard cash. According to the ghostly sage, money could buy happiness, or at least everything else. Just the thought of it made Augustus‘s spectral hands tremble as he shouted that his greatest regret in life was not hoarding enough gold, silver, and jewels to swim in them.
At night, William studied theory with Mary, learning about the types of monsters that fell under the rule of the Undead God, Stagnate. During those lessons, William learned the slightly terrifying truth: Mary, Blood, and Augustus were technically “living dead,” having formed a pact with Stagnate to remain in this world to fulfill their lingering regrets.
The next morning, William went hunting with Blood. Holding a small bird in his hand, William hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to crush the little guy and returned to Blood, complaining that he was too soft for this murder business. Seeing the boy’s distress, Blood sighed and explained that he didn’t exactly enjoy killing either, but for a warrior, it was necessary. To survive, one had to put those feelings in a box and lock it away.
That afternoon, William entered a sparring match with Blood. To keep things fair (since Blood is a walking tank), he allowed William to use magic. The battle began, and William tried to zone him, spamming spells from a distance like a typical mage main. Even so, Blood closed the gap effortlessly. Though the fight was brief, Blood praised William, saying his magic use was impressive for a toddler.
Hearing this, Augustus laughed and remarked, “At first I thought picking up a worthless orphan was a waste of time, but he’s actually become useful.” Blood immediately shut him down, telling him to watch his mouth in front of the kid. Realizing he had accidentally been a jerk out loud instead of just in his head, Augustus apologized to William on the spot. William was stunned—it was the first time the grumpy ghost had apologized to anyone.
As they walked back, Blood told William not to take it personally. Augustus was just socially awkward and bad with words, but he genuinely cared. Blood patted William‘s head, acknowledging that the boy probably had a million questions. He promised that once William was strong enough to handle the truth, he would spill the tea on everything.
While Blood taught swordsmanship and Augustus taught academics, Mary taught William the most important survival skill: common sense. She taught him agriculture, crafting, and daily chores. One morning, while planting trees, Mary asked William to cover for her in the garden because it was time for her daily prayer to Mater, the Earth Mother.
There was always a specific time each day when Mary would disappear into the prayer room, and William was strictly forbidden from entering. He was dying of curiosity, but just as he considered peeking, Blood appeared and dragged him off for more physical torture—I mean, training. They trained until the sun went down, ensuring William was too exhausted to snoop around.
That day, Blood had prepared a “special” sparring partner just for the occasion: a skeleton warrior crafted from the bones of a demon. It looked terrifying, but William didn’t flinch. He raised his sword and smashed it to pieces in a single strike, leaving Blood completely stunned. Blood hesitated to praise him, fearing the boy might get a big head, but seeing the quiet confidence on William‘s face, he decided it was time to stop treating him like a toddler. It was time for “Hard Mode.”
Thirteen years had passed since William arrived in this world, living atop a mountain overlooking a ruined city. This was the first time he was actually allowed to go down there. As they walked, Blood explained that the city was once bustling with humans, but now it was basically a massive retirement home for the undead. This was exactly why William had been banned from visiting until now.
Blood led William into a dark, creepy cave and told him to brace himself because the real exam was starting. The objective? Find his way out of the tunnel alive. Blood would be waiting at the exit. Then, in a move that would surely win him “Father of the Year,” Blood yeeted the lantern into the water, plunging them into darkness, and vanished.
William immediately cast a Light spell on his armor, turning himself into a human glowstick. He looked around, but Blood was gone. Instead, two undead warriors shuffled toward him. William fought them off, then crouched in a corner, momentarily overwhelmed by a wave of nostalgia—specifically, the lonely kind he felt in his previous life. But he shook it off. This wasn’t his old life. He had three undead mentors counting on him. In this world, adulthood started at 15, meaning he only had two years left to prove he was a man. He realized the harsh training wasn’t a punishment; it was love. He resolved to ace this test to repay them.
After a short breather, William pushed deeper into the tunnel. Suddenly, a new type of undead appeared. According to Augustus‘s lectures, this variant was skilled in magic and highly dangerous. William hesitated—should he fight or flee? But his gamer instincts kicked in, and he charged. The creature thrust its spear, but William realized something instantly: compared to Blood‘s terrifying training, this guy moved in slow motion. William leaped over the attack and delivered a skull-crushing strike. However, physics can be cruel; his sword snapped in half upon impact, though the creature collapsed instantly.
Panic started to set in. He was now weaponless in a dungeon. How was he supposed to survive? That’s when he noticed the spear the enemy had dropped. He picked it up and saw a line of ancient text engraved along the shaft.
It was a weapon crafted by the Dwarven race. Gripping the spear, William pressed on, eyes scanning the ruins. The place was desolate, clearly abandoned by humans for at least 10 or 20 years. He wondered where that elite undead warrior had even come from. Suddenly, a gust of wind hit him from behind. William spun around and saw Augustus standing there.
Thinking his ghostly teacher had come to rescue him, William rushed forward in relief. But Augustus didn’t say a word. Instead, he casually cast a spell, summoning a Golem that immediately tried to smash William into a pancake. William froze, stunned. When he looked into Augustus‘s eyes, he saw zero chill. The old ghost was dead serious.
Reacting on instinct, William drove his new spear into the Golem’s core, reverting it to a pile of rocks. But Augustus wasn’t done. Enchanted stones and spells rained down like a bullet hell game. William sprinted away, firing off Counterspell frantically, but Augustus was spamming magic faster than William could dispel it. A spell clipped him, sending him tumbling to the ground. He struggled to stand, panic rising. Why was Augustus trying to kill him?
No, I don’t want to die. William gripped his spear, his survival instinct kicking in. He lunged forward, ready to strike his mentor down. But at the last second, he couldn’t do it. He threw the spear aside and surrendered.
He realized something: Augustus was holding back. If the Sage truly wanted him dead, a simple Fireball would have turned the tunnel into an oven, or an Earthquake would have buried him alive. William burst into tears. These three were his family. If the choice was between hurting them or dying, he’d choose death without hesitation.
William looked up through his tears, and suddenly Augustus burst out laughing. He patted the boy’s head, praising him for passing the “surprise test” perfectly. Then, he dragged the emotional teenager out of the tunnel.
After that incident, William became convinced that the ruined city and his three guardians were somehow connected to his mysterious origins. The spear he had looted was named Pale Moon. The engravings were magical: the blade could emit light, and the shaft could extend or retract like a magical selfie stick. William loved it instantly—it was his first legendary drop.
From then on, Blood took William on field trips to dangerous ruins for combat training. Meanwhile, Augustus started teaching less, which confused William. Instead, Augustus assigned “practical tasks,” like scavenging underground tunnels for ancient coins. William assumed this was for some grand magical ritual, but was horrified to discover they were just funding Augustus‘s gambling addiction. At first, William hated the dice games, but Augustus and Blood kept goading him until he caved. Before he knew it, he was gambling with the boys—until Mary caught them and scolded the entire group into oblivion.
After she left, William sat down with Augustus. In recent years, Augustus had spent most of his time gazing at the stars, acting like a retiree with too much free time. With William‘s coming-of-age ceremony approaching—which required a duel against Blood—Augustus made a bizarre request. He asked William to deliberately throw the fight without letting Blood know. William immediately rejected the idea, arguing that this illogical request didn’t sound like Augustus at all. “Everything you do usually has a reason,” William countered. “If you tell me why, I might consider taking a dive.” But Augustus simply apologized, playing the “I can’t tell you right now” card.
Needing to clear his head, William went to the chapel. Mary and Blood appeared shortly after to discuss his big decision. For the ceremony, William had to pledge himself to a deity. He considered just copying his guardians and choosing one of their gods, but Mary stopped him. She explained that he shouldn’t just follow their path; he needed to choose the god that resonated with him. She warned that divine blessings work on a terrifying scale: the greater the blessing, the more dangerous the hero’s life becomes. Basically, high stats equal high trauma. She urged him to think carefully before signing up for a life of hardship.
That afternoon, William was training on the horizontal bar when Blood approached. William braced himself for another beatdown, but instead, Blood invited him for a drink. Since William was still underage, Blood mixed a “soft” version—honey wine diluted with water. William worried that Mary would kill them if she found out, but Blood peer-pressured him, saying he needed to build his tolerance. William caved, and soon they were feeling a little buzzed.
Drunk on mead and bad ideas, Blood proposed a “Courage Test.” The challenge? Spy on Mary while she was changing clothes. They snuck up to her door like delinquents. Blood covered his eye sockets (pretending to be modest) as he peeked inside. William, however, short-circuited. Whether out of guilt or panic, he suddenly burst into the room. Mary, possessing the reflexes of a goddess, instantly slapped the soul out of his body. The next morning, William woke up with a perfect red handprint branded on his face. As he grew older, his teenage instincts were waking up—especially after the accidental flash he got the night before. He ran to the well to furiously wash his “laundry” while Blood laughed his skeletal head off, teasing the boy about his sudden coming-of-age in a different sense.
After finishing the laundry—and scrubbing away the evidence of his “awakening”—William returned to his sword training. His coming-of-age ceremony was imminent, and once his duel with Blood concluded, it would be time for him to leave the nest. William couldn’t stop thinking about Augustus‘s strange request to throw the match, unsure if he should actually listen to the old ghost or fight for real.
At that moment, Mary arrived carrying a shiny new suit of armor. As she helped him suit up, she asked curiously which deity he had decided to pledge his soul to. William simply smiled, telling her he had already made his decision and that he intended to win today’s duel.
Fully armored and looking like a proper paladin, William headed to the dueling field. Before they began, Blood explained the rules one last time: keep fighting until one side drops. Simple enough. William donned his helmet and took a defensive stance. The duel began, and Blood rushed in like a freight train, forcing William to crouch and block relentlessly. Blood‘s attacks were a raging storm of violence. Realizing that one mistake would mean a Game Over, William jumped back and threw a dagger to create an opening. It failed.
Faced with Blood‘s overwhelming power, William realized playing it safe was pointless. He had to go big or go home. He changed tactics and charged straight into the meat grinder. Using his shield to deflect a strike, he stepped on Blood‘s sword, vaulted over him, and slammed the massive skeleton to the ground. Just as William prepared to deliver the finishing blow, Blood grabbed him by the neck and tossed him aside like a ragdoll.
Even in mid-air, William tried to attack. He landed and looked up to find Blood‘s sword millimeters from his throat. However, William looked closer and realized he hadn’t completely failed—his own sword was buried deep in Blood‘s ribs. It was a stalemate, but since Blood could survive a rib puncture and William couldn’t survive a throat slit, William gracefully accepted defeat.
Suddenly, Mary rushed forward, screaming at Blood. She insisted that the technique he just used was forbidden. Blood played dumb, so Mary explained it to William: Blood had used a trick from his living days where he would intentionally trap an opponent’s sword between his own ribs to immobilize them for a counterattack. It was an incredibly dangerous and reckless move, which is exactly why Mary had banned it.
After the dust settled, William sat down with his guardians. Their tutelage had come to an end; he had learned everything they could teach him. It was time to step out into the world. William smiled gratefully and finally said the words he had held back for years, calling them his “Mother” and “Father.” The declaration shocked both Blood and Mary. Recovering from the emotional critical hit, Blood laughed and presented William with a parting gift: his own legendary sword.
Blood drew the sword and handed it to William, claiming it was his diploma for graduating the School of Hard Knocks. William grasped the hilt and examined it as Blood explained the weapon’s specs. The sword was named Overeater. It was a magical blade, widely considered overpowered because the complex engravings allowed it to devour magic and vitality. Blood explained that the sword returned energy to its wielder after every strike—basically, an infinite stamina glitch. The longer the battle lasted, the stronger the user became. However, Blood added a warning label: “Do not get addicted.” Relying on it too much made the user weak and dependent, which is why it was classified as a cursed demonic sword.
With the sword handover complete, William‘s coming-of-age ceremony was officially over. Now, it was time for the lore dump. With Mary‘s nod of approval, Blood began the story—the tale of the High King, the demons, and why three undead legends were raising a human toddler.
The story rewinded 200 years to when the High King launched a war against the continent. It was a total slaughterhouse. The High King was a maniac who could spawn soldiers from his own flesh and blood, then regenerate his health using the very sword William was now holding. He was essentially playing in God Mode. Regions fell like dominoes, and hope was non-existent.
In that darkest hour, the wandering sage Augustus appeared and dropped a prophecy, declaring it was time for the High King‘s cancellation. William, being the smart kid he is, immediately deduced the plan: sneak into the tunnels, steal the OP sword, and nerf the boss. Since the High King relied on the sword to restore the power he spent making minions, taking it would leave him vulnerable. William assumed this meant Augustus and the crew defeated him.
But Blood cut him off. William was a genius, sure, but his conclusion was wrong. They didn’t win. In fact, they got absolutely wrecked. When they cornered the High King, he revealed his true power. It was the first time Blood had ever suffered a crushing defeat in a sword fight. Since they couldn’t kill him, they had to settle for Plan B: seal him away. Mary and Augustus combined their powers and barely managed to lock him up.
At that moment, the voice of the Undead God, Stagnate, echoed around them. It turned out the High King, armed with Overeater, was capable of permanently killing gods. Because they had sealed such a dangerous threat, Stagnate decided to “reward” them with a job offer. He wanted them to become the eternal guardians of the seal by transforming into the Undead.
It was called a “negotiation,” but let’s be real—it was a hostage situation with extra steps. Left with no choice, Augustus, Mary, and Blood became the undead guardians of the seal, stuck in a 200-year lockdown behind Augustus‘s barrier. They had no clue if humanity was even alive outside until William showed up, delivered via “Demon Express.” Augustus voted “No” on keeping the baby, but Mary and Blood overruled him, deciding to raise the child.
Hearing this origin story, William formed a clear plan: he would go out, touch grass, make friends, and eventually return to gentrify this ruined city as repayment to his undead parents. Suddenly, Mary hugged him with a “final episode” vibe, speaking sad words of farewell. The sky darkened, and Stagnate, the God of the Undead, crashed the party.
According to the Terms and Conditions of their soul contract, it was time for Mary and Blood to be repossessed. William dropped to his knees, paralyzed by the sheer divine pressure. But Augustus wasn’t having it. He shouted at William to grab the others and run while he went full Gandalf to cover their escape.
Augustus began chain-casting spells—one, two, three, four at once. It was a display of mana so massive it made William‘s jaw drop; usually, a quadruple-cast required a whole raid party, but Augustus was doing it solo. With a final blow, he unleashed a storm that blasted the god away.
For a second, it looked like a win. Mary and Blood were safe. But in the next moment, Augustus was sliced in two. Stagnate approached the broken sage and lifted him up. The “god” Augustus had destroyed was merely a disposable avatar, but managing to break it proved Augustus was a top-tier mage. Stagnate decided he couldn’t let such a powerful unit go to waste, so he claimed him.
Then, the god turned his attention to the terrified William. Stagnate laughed and actually thanked the boy for the pact that bound the trio. He revealed the cruel truth: The three had become undead to guard the High King‘s seal, fueled by their regret and hatred. But because they raised William and found happiness, that regret had faded. Mary and Blood were now fulfilled, which meant the contract was up and their souls belonged to Stagnate.
Only Augustus still held onto enough grumpiness and obsession to resist. Stagnate then made William a tempting offer: “Why not die right now? I’ll make you undead, and you can live with your family forever.” He didn’t demand an answer immediately, giving William until the next evening—when the sun’s power weakened—to decide. With that, Stagnate vanished into the void.
That night, as heavy rain poured down, William dragged his parents back home. It finally clicked. He realized why Augustus had tried to kill him in the cave and why he wanted William to throw the duel. The old sage wasn’t being a jerk; he was trying to intentionally fail at protecting William to keep his own regret alive, preventing Stagnate from taking his soul.
They had done everything to protect him, yet William had lived in blissful ignorance of Augustus‘s suffering and the sacrifices Mary and Blood had made. Crushed by the weight of this realization, he fell to his knees and cried ugly tears, feeling powerless to repay the undead trio who had raised him.
The next morning, William woke up half-dazed to find his three guardians standing there, smiling and acting cheerful as if an Evil God wasn’t coming to repossess their souls that evening. Seeing through their brave act, William decided it was time to come clean. He revealed his biggest secret: he retained memories of his previous life. He confessed he had been a total failure who caused his family nothing but trouble, and he felt just as useless now.
William clenched his teeth and broke down again, waiting for them to be disappointed. Instead, Mary delivered her signature move: a sharp slap to the face. She grabbed him by the shoulders and refused to let him call himself trash. “Who cares about a life that’s already over?” she scolded. “Does Stagnate‘s threat scare you so much that you’d pity yourself?” She forced him to stand up, while Blood and Augustus joined the pep talk, telling him to man up and stop acting like a wet noodle.
Their words reignited William‘s resolve. He stopped crying and started plotting. He marched to the temple and swore an oath to fight the gods themselves to protect his family.
When the sun set, William stood before Stagnate and politely told the God of the Undead to get lost—he wasn’t going to help him. Stagnate realized William was challenging him, and since gods have massive egos, he couldn’t refuse. But first, a test. Stagnate summoned an endless army of the dead. William, gripping his spear Pale Moon, declared he’d delete anyone in his way. He fought alone, mixing swordplay with anti-undead spells. Whenever an enemy tried to cast magic, William used Haste to speed-blitz them.
Stagnate paused the assault, genuinely impressed. Watching a teenager solo a zombie horde was better entertainment than he’d had in centuries. He decided he wanted William as a general in his eternal army. He tried to recruit him, promising they could build an eternal world together. Stagnate cut his hand, poured his divine ichor into a cup, and offered it to William. Drinking it meant immortality.
William placed his spear on the ground and stepped forward, looking like he was about to accept the dark gift. But in the next moment, he drew his ordinary sword and sliced Stagnate‘s hand clean off. It was a cool move that actually injured the god, but that was his limit. The blood in the cup transformed into a serpent, coiling around William‘s legs and slamming him into the dirt. Another strike followed, and William‘s consciousness faded to black.
He awoke standing on a still lake. A girl carrying a lantern approached him. It was Gracefeel, the Goddess of Light and the one who had originally reincarnated him. She asked why he refused Stagnate‘s offer of immortality. William answered honestly: in his past life, he had been a stagnant failure, basically dead while alive. He didn’t want an eternity of that. He wanted to live a finite, meaningful life with his family and die properly when the time came.
Moved by his resolve not to be a shut-in for eternity, Gracefeel accepted him. She helped him to his feet and declared she would be his patron deity, supporting him as long as he stayed true to his path. William snapped back to reality, taking a defensive stance amidst Stagnate‘s mocking laughter, ready for Round Two.
He brought his hands together in the prayer ritual of the Goddess of Light, catching Stagnate off guard. The blessing ignited William‘s body in sacred flames—the same holy fire Mary had once endured during the bread ritual. Having built up a resistance (and apparently a high pain tolerance), the flames no longer harmed him. Empowered by Gracefeel‘s blessing, William stood firm and declared that he would wield the demonic sword Overeater to eradicate evil and protect the world. His first target? The Evil God standing right in front of him.
Hearing this, Stagnate exploded with rage. William‘s pledge to Gracefeel essentially voided his warranty as a potential undead recruit, rendering him “worthless” in Stagnate‘s eyes. The god ordered his army of the dead to attack. With a single strike, William incinerated the undead, causing Stagnate to turn pale. The flame technique wasn’t just fire; it was the concept of “Rest in Peace” weaponized—the complete antithesis of Stagnate‘s power.
When the army vanished, Stagnate pulled a tactical retreat and disappeared from sight. William stayed alert, scanning for a surprise attack. Gracefeel appeared and gently tapped his shoulder, warning him to check the map. William realized he had been lured far away from the temple. He activated Acceleration and sprinted back at full speed. Stagnate‘s true target had always been Mary and Blood‘s souls, not William.
Inside the temple, Augustus was suspended in the air, incapacitated, while Stagnate stood looming over Mary and Blood. William ran until his lungs burned, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Just as Stagnate‘s hand reached for them, a brilliant light flashed and forced the god back. Mater, the Earth Mother, manifested temporarily to save her faithful servant. She smiled at Mary, then vanished. Mary stood there in tears, realizing that Mater had never blamed her or withdrawn her blessing; she had simply been waiting for the moment she was needed most.
Thanks to this divine intervention stalling Stagnate for a split second, William arrived. Using Overeater combined with Gracefeel‘s blessing, he prepared an attack capable of returning souls to the reincarnation cycle. He slashed directly toward Mary and Blood. It looked like betrayal, but it was 4D chess: he knew Stagnate wouldn’t let his prizes be “saved” by death, so the god stepped in to block the attack.
That’s exactly what William wanted. As Stagnate focused on nullifying William‘s purification strike, Blood lunged forward and attacked the god, catching him off guard. Stagnate tried to cast a counter-spell, but Augustus, despite being half-dead, shouted a Silent Spell that jammed Stagnate‘s magic.
It was William‘s moment. He charged and began striking Stagnate relentlessly with his sword. Despite the pain, Stagnate continued hurling insults like a toxic gamer, but William didn’t care. He pointed his sword at Stagnate‘s face and declared that in the name of Gracefeel, he would live and die as a human.
The evil god’s avatar faded away, and William collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. In that moment, the realization hit him: every move, every spell, and every tactic he used in this battle was a direct result of Mary, Blood, and Augustus‘s teachings. He hadn’t won alone; he was the sum of their efforts.
Mary and Blood rushed toward him, cheering like proud soccer parents, and Augustus joined them, his ghostly heart melting at the sight of William‘s tears. Blood suggested holding a victory celebration immediately. Augustus agreed, eager to crack open the 200-year-old vintage wine he’d been saving for a special occasion. This time, Mary didn’t stop William from drinking, though she gripped his shoulder tightly, warning him not to become an alcoholic on his first day of freedom.
Augustus ran off excitedly to prepare the party, and Mary and Blood tried to follow, but their legs gave out. They couldn’t even stand. Blood let out a deep sigh. As much as he wanted one last rager, it wasn’t possible. An undead being who loses their obsession and regains their peace of mind cannot remain in the human world. They were literally fading away from satisfaction.
To spare William pain, Blood tried to be stoic. “There is nothing to grieve,” he said. “Parents are meant to leave before their children. We’ve been freeloading on this planet for 200 years too long. It’s time for us to nap.”
Even though William knew the logic, his heart refused to accept it. He had sworn to protect them! He still wanted to train with Blood, garden with Mary, and one day introduce them to his own grandkids. William broke down, sobbing like a child and refusing to let go. Mary gently wiped his face. She wouldn’t allow him to be stubborn in their final moments. “We don’t want to leave you drowning in pain,” she said soothingly.
They gave him their final words as parents—advice to carry him through a lifetime. William listened through his tears, swearing that their words would be his guiding light. Then Augustus returned with the wine. It was the first time the four of them drank together, and also the last. Just one cup, yet it tasted heavier than any poison. The moment ended when the Goddess of Light, Gracefeel, appeared to escort Mary and Blood‘s souls to the afterlife.
The next morning, William built a grave for them. Standing before it, he vowed that this farewell was only temporary. This ruin was his home, and once he made friends and built a family, he would bring them back here to meet grandma and grandpa.
Suddenly, Augustus appeared behind him, looking surprisingly solid. William took the chance to joke about the old ghost still hanging around, and Augustus tossed him a heavy bag. It was a treasure hoard gathered over 200 years. “Money that isn’t used is just metal,” Augustus grumbled. “Go spend it on something good.”
Then, the sage revealed the truth. The night before, he had negotiated a deal with Gracefeel. The High King‘s seal still required a guardian, so Augustus was allowed to remain for 10 more years before clocking out. However, intervening to save them had cost Gracefeel a massive chunk of her divine power. From now on, her influence—and William‘s protection—would depend entirely on how well William spread the faith.
William packed his belongings, ready to finally leave the nest. But before he could step out, Augustus stopped him. “To live in the outside world, you need a full name,” the sage said. “Mary and Blood gave you your first name, but the family name is my right to give.”
According to tradition, children carried their father’s name. Augustus smiled and bestowed upon him the name that combined his parents’ legacy: William G. Maryblood. William smiled and thanked him. He truly loved the name.
Flashback: 200 Years Ago During the battle against the High King, Blood prepared to fight the undead army outside the city while Mary prepared the rituals. The plan was airtight, but they had only managed to buy 5 days. If the High King wasn’t defeated by then, it was Game Over. It was a suicide mission. Blood had asked Mary to stay behind, but she refused, threatening to end her own life if he tried to leave her. Blood had no choice but to agree, knowing these might be their final moments together.
At last, Blood revealed what he’d been hiding in his heart. He proposed to Mary, promising that if they returned safely from the war, they would truly be married. On their way to the city, they painted a picture of their future—specifically, children who would inherit Blood’s swordsmanship and raw stats along with Mary’s caution, steadiness, and magical talent. Just as Augustus had done, they even thought of a name for the child: William, meaning “The Bearer of the Will of Helmet and Armor.”
After leaving the city in the present day, William encountered many demons along the road, but at his level, he no longer saw them as threats—they were just XP fodder. He walked alongside a long stream for quite some time without meeting a single soul. When rain began to fall, he entered a nearby grove to rest. The air was cold, and he felt a faint sense of loneliness; the solo adventurer life was quieter than he expected.
When the rain stopped, he continued onward until he spotted a new city. Excited, he rushed to explore it, only to find it old and abandoned. At its center was a massive crater, the trace of a strategic nuke-level spell. After confirming it was empty, William went to the riverbank and performed rituals to guide any wandering souls, acting as a traveling priest before resuming his journey.
A collapsed bridge blocked his path, forcing him to spend another night camping. His supplies were running low, and although he had bread thanks to Gracefeel‘s blessing, he was desperate to see other human beings. In the morning, he continued, hoping for an encounter. Suddenly, he heard rustling in the bushes. William drew his spear defensively just as a wild boar charged him. He stabbed it once, but as he prepared to finish it off, he sensed a presence behind him.
Turning around, he saw someone aiming a bow and arrow right at him. The arrow already lodged in the boar matched the one on the bow. Technically, the prey belonged to the archer. William didn’t want to turn his first social interaction into a deathmatch. He studied the symbols on the man’s clothing, guessed he was an Elf, and spoke to him in the Elvish language.
The man lowered his bow, explaining that the boar was his prey. William nearly apologized out of old habit but caught himself. He smiled and negotiated, explaining that since he’d finished the hunt, he deserved a share of the loot. The man agreed, and they divided the boar fairly. Since the organs had to be eaten immediately, they decided to have a BBQ. When the man went to gather firewood, William ignited the fire with magic, careful not to reveal the true extent of his powers.
Before eating, William performed a blessing ritual, prompting the man to joke about his strange devotion. Before parting ways, William asked for directions. The man explained that this area was the “Forest of Beasts,” the last boundary of human lands, and guessed that William was an explorer. William gave a vague “sure.” The man pointed out a path along the river that would lead to a small village in two days. However, when William asked for permission to visit, the man grew tense and refused outright.
William continued on his way, but before losing sight of the stranger, he asked for a name. The man replied formally: “Meneldor.” William set up his tent near the stream later that night, thinking for a long time about the elf. Despite the man’s caution, William felt satisfied with his first encounter.
He fell asleep, only to be rudely awakened by a divine prophecy from Gracefeel. The message was urgent: Meneldor‘s village was on the brink of war. William engaged “Protagonist Mode” and moved out instantly. Using tracking magic, he reached the area in record time.
It seemed the attack hadn’t begun yet. He found two soldiers on patrol—one of whom introduced himself as Jon—and rushed forward to introduce himself. Suddenly, his “Spider-Sense” tingled. He leaped and raised his shield, deflecting an arrow aimed right at the soldiers. He was shocked to see that the arrow’s fletching matched Meneldor‘s own. The truth hit him harder than the arrow: Meneldor wasn’t the victim here; he was the aggressor.
From the rooftops, Meneldor drew his bow and fired another arrow at William, who stood his ground protecting the two soldiers. The moment the alarm was raised, the attacking group withdrew like ninjas. But William wasn’t about to let them escape that easily. He cranked up his speed and chased after them, cutting off Meneldor‘s escape route.
When Meneldor confronted William, he used magic to trigger an earthquake beneath the Paladin’s feet. William answered with a powerful “Tactical Stomp,” canceling the spell outright with sheer physical absurdity—something that left Meneldor completely shook. Panicking, the elf pressed the attack with fire magic, but William cut the spell in half with a single sword strike. Cold sweat broke out across Meneldor‘s face. It was too late to run. William charged forward and drove the shaft of his spear into Meneldor‘s abdomen, knocking the wind (and the consciousness) out of him. He then skillfully bound the group using capture techniques.
After the dust settled, the soldier William had saved, Jon, thanked him and explained the geopolitical mess. This region was the “Forest of Beasts,” a lawless land beneath the fertile kingdom that the government had conveniently neglected. Jon recognized the attacker immediately; Meneldor was a well-known hunter from a nearby village. They had been living in peace and couldn’t understand why the sudden heel-turn had happened.
The Village Elder appeared, thanked William, calmed the mob, and decided to interrogate the attackers before passing judgment. The tragic backstory was revealed: Meneldor‘s village had been decimated by demons, their homes destroyed, and supplies exhausted. Desperate to survive, Meneldor proposed the raid. He took full responsibility and asked for mercy for his companions, but theft and assault couldn’t be overlooked. Despite the Elder‘s sympathy, he was forced to follow the law: the sentence was hanging.
William stood silently, watching the scene unfold without divine guidance. They had resorted to stealing, so the judgment was technically reasonable. But then William remembered what Mary had taught him about mercy and what Blood had taught him about moving forward without fear. He decided to intervene.
He asked for a pardon in exchange for compensation. Pointing to Meneldor, he explained that his family had also suffered at the hands of demons and that he had sworn to fight them. Then, he pulled out a heavy bag of money—courtesy of his rich undead grandpa—containing enough gold to ransom the group and employ the villagers.
With William‘s financial bail-out, the survivors were relocated to the village, and Meneldor was hired to fight demons alongside William. Meneldor wasn’t exactly thrilled about the arrangement, but he was broke and indebted, so he agreed.
The two of them entered the forest together. Meneldor asked about the plan. William answered calmly, “There isn’t one. Time’s up. We move straight in.” They traveled through the forest, and thanks to Meneldor‘s survival skills, they found a safe place to camp. During dinner, Meneldor made sure to remind William that he had agreed only to be a GPS guide, not a fighter.
William smiled and simply said, “That was enough.” Meneldor went to sleep, remaining distant despite William‘s awkward attempts at making conversation. Days later, the villagers returned. They were shocked by the devastation, but they held themselves together, helping William build graves and hold ceremonies for the victims. After the rites were observed, they held a large feast that lasted well into the night.
Afterward, William went looking for Meneldor. The elf sat beside him and finally opened up, telling the story of the Village Elder who had saved him. He had been born in a forest on the northern grassland continent. His mother had left her village by choice, chosen a human man, and given birth to Meneldor. Because half-elves mature faster than elves, he was considered a disgrace to the tribe—basically the black sheep of the forest. When he grew a little older, he ran away to escape the humiliation.
The human world wasn’t a paradise, but it was still easier than dealing with the contempt of his own people. He became an adventurer, exploring ruins in the south until one of his companions decided to pull a classic betrayal. When it came time to divide the loot, that man poisoned everyone’s food. Meneldor nearly died, but his resilient elven blood saved him. He killed the traitor, then wandered aimlessly until he collapsed near this village. That was where the Village Elder appeared and took care of him. Back then, she was young and beautiful. With her help, he found a place to live, and the days passed peacefully until the demons attacked and destroyed everything. He was exhausted—cursed to live longer than everyone else and watch them all disappear.
After finishing his trauma dump, he felt lighter. He knelt before William, asking the Paladin to guide him on his path forward, and swore to the Goddess of Light that he would dedicate his life to atoning for his sins. William smiled and accepted, saying he would be the customer service rep connecting him to the Goddess.
The two returned to the feast. As Meneldor drank, William placed a hand on his shoulder. Remembering his parents, he said with pride that this was his first friend in life.
However, rebuilding the village faced obstacles. The livestock had been slaughtered, and the farming tools were gone. The farmers began talking about buying tools from Whitesails, but they didn’t have enough money. William listened blankly, having no idea what Whitesails was, and asked to learn more about it.
Meneldor‘s face froze in disbelief. He couldn’t believe how sheltered William was. Then he explained, “This region lies on the southern border. 200 years ago, demons attacked it. Even though heroes resisted the High King, people were forced to migrate north and establish the Fertile Empire. Whitesails was once a settlement hub for those refugees.” According to what Meneldor knew, the southern continent had once held strong faith in the Goddess of Light, Gracefeel. But after the great migration, that faith had weakened greatly.
That was understandable. Homes were destroyed, demons were everywhere, and the gods seemed silent. As a missionary, William‘s role was to restore that faith—but that was a “Later Problem.” For now, rebuilding the village was the “Now Problem.”
To earn money, William invited Meneldor to raid some dungeons—I mean, explore ruins—agreeing to split any loot 50/50. Thanks to William‘s supernatural GPS for locating ruins, they quickly grinded enough gold to rebuild the village. They were returning in high spirits when they suddenly heard cries for help.
A young man and a girl were being chased by a Giant Ape. To stop the ape from stealing the young man’s belongings, the girl threw a stone to distract it. It worked, but now the ape was enraged and charged at her. At that moment, William stepped in like a tank, raising his shield to intercept. Blood had once taught him the Golden Rule of the Jungle: “If you run, you’re food.” William stood his ground and stared straight into the ape’s eyes, engaging in a high-stakes staring contest. The ape blinked first, backing off and leaving the area.
William let out a sigh of relief, happy to have avoided an unnecessary boss fight, and turned to check on the girl. Her eyes were practically sparkling. Watching William stand firm against a Giant Ape convinced her that he was the real deal. She happily introduced herself as Robina Goodfellow (Bee), a traveling minstrel, while the man introduced himself as Antonio, a traveling merchant whose guild had gone bankrupt (which explained why he was wandering the woods).
William introduced himself with a smile, adding that he was a paladin serving the Goddess of Light, Gracefeel. That confession only hyped Bee up more. Although the Southern Continent had historical ties to the faith, she’d never actually met a messenger of the Goddess before.
Meneldor stepped in, asking the practical question: “Why are you two squishy civilians alone in the Forest of Beasts?” Antonio explained they were heading to Whitesails and had hired guards, but said guards bravely ran away the moment a monster appeared. Meneldor burst out laughing at the classic trope, then turned to William, whispering that this was a business opportunity.
Meneldor offered to escort Antonio to Whitesails in exchange for a simple favor: acting as their broker to buy livestock and horses from the city. Antonio, desperate not to be eaten by apes, agreed immediately.
With the deal struck, the party set off, with Meneldor leading them toward the first town on the route. Bee was overflowing with enthusiasm. Every time they reached a new landmark, she stopped to greet the locals and played a tune on her instrument, treating the dangerous journey like a concert tour.
While Antonio used the opportunity to conduct his trade, handling customers with professional finesse, Meneldor became convinced the man really had been a legit merchant before his bankruptcy. Suddenly, Antonio ran over to William and asked if he could use his blessing to heal someone. William agreed and healed a scar on Bee‘s body. When they tried to pay him, he refused, stating that the blessing was a gift from the Goddess. If they truly wanted to thank him, they could support Antonio‘s business instead.
After finishing with that village, the group continued their tour, relying on Bee‘s singing, William‘s healing, and Antonio‘s trading. It was a perfect ecosystem: entertainment, healthcare, and commerce. They no longer had to worry about travel expenses.
After ten days of traveling, they reached a wheat field at nightfall and decided to camp. Since Bee was in high spirits, she decided to gift everyone a song. After some thought, she chose to sing the “Ballad of the Hero, the Saint, and the Wandering Sage.” William sat and listened intently to every word. The song wasn’t just a melody to him; it was family history.
The story flashed back to when the trio was just an exploration team passing through a village terrorized by a dragon. To appease the beast, the village sacrificed one person from a household in rotation. Mary wanted to help immediately. Blood, being pragmatic, wasn’t willing to intervene without pay, and Augustus remained silent.
That night, a boy came to beg the group for help, offering a few silver coins—his entire fortune. Blood looked into the boy’s determined eyes and laughed. The kid had the guts of a warrior, willing to abandon his pride to save his sister. That was enough for Blood.
During the battle, Mary volunteered as bait, binding herself to a sacrificial cross to lure the dragon. When the beast lunged at her, Augustus restrained it with high-level binding magic. Mary freed herself and retreated to safety, and in that split second, Blood charged forward and decapitated the dragon with a single strike.
After the fight, Mary secretly returned the money to the boy and his sister so they wouldn’t feel guilty. Meanwhile, Augustus fabricated a story that the money was actually a high-interest loan given so they could start a better life, claiming he would return to collect the massive debt once they became rich.
The song ended there, and Bee added a few final notes of trivia. That boy later became known as Count Dagger of the Fertile Kingdom, and the girl was his Elven wife (technically his sister-in-law in some versions, or simply the girl he saved who was an elf). Though Count Dagger had long since passed away, the elven woman was still alive, waiting for the day the Sage would return so she could repay the debt of gratitude. That was the complete tale behind the heroic song of William‘s three parents.
William was deeply moved, his eyes filling with tears. He was happy that the outside world still remembered the legends he called “Mom” and “Dad.”
The next morning, while William was going through his daily workout routine, Antonio approached him. The moment the merchant saw the spear William carried—Pale Moon—he knew it was a masterpiece, not some discount weapon from a clearance bin. He had one burning question: “What is your wish?”
As a merchant who dealt with everyone from high nobles to slaves, Antonio could read people like a book. But William was an anomaly. He was brave and strong, yet he didn’t seem to care about getting rich. Unlike many corrupt nobles, he fit the description of a legendary “Holy Knight” perfectly. Faced with the question, William answered with confidence. He explained that he once had a small, warm family but lost them just before coming of age. After that, he received the Goddess‘s blessing. His journey wasn’t about conquering the world or getting rich; it was about repaying those who raised him and honoring the Goddess‘s grace. But more than that, he simply hoped to make friends and find genuine companionship.
After hearing such a wholesome answer, Antonio smiled and decided to stick with William for the long haul.
After breakfast, they hit the road again. To pass the time, Antonio entertained them with exposition—I mean, stories. He explained that the Royal Capital was currently a mess due to a power struggle. The current heir, the Crown Prince (referred to by some as Prince Valaca), lacked any remarkable talent, causing the governors to object and migrate south. In contrast, his younger brother, Prince Ethelbald, had been sent to the city of Whitesails. Unlike his brother, Ethelbald was a brilliant ruler, and thanks to him, the city was booming.
As William listened in admiration, Bee suddenly ran up, grabbed his sleeve, and pointed out the view. They could see the city expanding and flourishing. in that moment, William imagined Blood, Mary, and Augustus fighting to create a future like this, and he got a little emotional.
The group entered Whitesails together. William immediately noticed there were no checkpoints or TSA agents at the gate, which seemed odd. Antonio explained that this was Prince Ethelbald‘s policy: since most supplies arrived by ship, inspecting wagons at the gates would just cause traffic jams. Instead, the Prince taxed the trading ships and merchants inside the city, allowing goods to flow freely.
Bee, who found politics incredibly boring, decided it was time for William to act like a tourist. Since this was his first time in a big city, she took his hand and dragged him through the bustling shopping districts, showing off the jewelry and luxury goods. William, the country bumpkin, was amazed by everything. He stopped beside a random pillar, confused. Bee had to explain that it was a street lantern, lit at night by mage apprentices to illuminate the city. Antonio, always the capitalist, noted that these lanterns generated steady income for both the mages and the city.
Hearing about “hot water” and “income” gave Bee an idea. She knew exactly what Antonio was hinting at: The Great Public Bath of Whitesails. William‘s eyes widened with excitement. A public bath? He had to try it. The group headed there, and William was stunned to find the water as clear as a mountain stream.
It wasn’t just a bath; the place even had a sauna. After the bath, Bee took them to a nearby restaurant. Every dish William tasted elevated his palate to a completely new level. It was the first time he had eaten food of such quality since leaving the temple. He realized this was the taste of the era—the flavor of progress.
After finishing the meal, William felt the need to visit the church first. Bee and Antonio waited outside while he went in. The place felt more like a tourist landmark than a place of worship—spacious and beautiful, like a work of art. William approached one of the clergy to ask for directions. When the man learned that William was a paladin serving the Goddess of Light, Gracefeel, he looked unsettled. That deity wasn’t widely worshiped anymore, so he decided to verify William‘s identity first. William agreed calmly, understanding that the obscurity of his Goddess made skepticism natural.
Although the matter could have been settled quickly, there were no qualified inspectors available, meaning he had to wait. At that moment, a middle-aged man stepped forward and practically spat in front of the guide. William introduced himself immediately. The man was Bishop Bagley, the official in charge of the church. William tried to use a blessing to prove his identity, but Bagley scolded him sharply. He explained that novices often misused blessings to show off without understanding the gravity of being a true messenger. William fell silent and listened respectfully. Bagley‘s lecture reminded him exactly of the lessons Augustus had taught him.
To test his identity, Bagley asked a single question: “What is the duty of a messenger? And what do you value most in the Goddess of Light?” William answered smoothly and with unwavering conviction. Bagley‘s doubts eased. With that, William passed the vibe check and was granted permission to enter the inner temple.
After the tour, William returned to his room and asked curiously about the grumpy priest. According to what Antonio knew, Bagley was famous for his rudeness and rumored to have shady ties with merchant guilds. Even so, Antonio advised William to ignore the politics and enjoy the city.
Suddenly, an alarm bell began ringing without pause. Bee immediately recognized it as an emergency alarm. From outside the window, the screams of the citizens rose as a Wyvern (Dragon) appeared, ravaging the city.
Wherever it flew, houses collapsed like a stack of cards. William rushed to the top of the temple to assess the situation. The city was drowning in smoke and destruction, and the Wyvern kept spreading chaos. William couldn’t accept it. This was the city his parents had given their lives to protect, and he wasn’t about to let some overgrown lizard ruin the property value.
William acted at once, launching lightning magic at the beast, determined to turn it into a fried chicken wing. At that moment, Meneldor appeared and harshly scolded him. “That is a dragon (species), not a goblin! Stop spamming spells and think!”
William regained his focus and asked Meneldor for support. Meneldor went down to have Bee and Antonio evacuate the church and secure the civilians. Then, he and William began chanting spells together. William formed a spiderweb spell saturated with lightning, and with the help of a wind spirit, the web surged through the air and caught the Wyvern. The web couldn’t restrain it for long, but it was enough to draw its aggro.
Enraged, the beast charged straight toward William‘s position. William clasped his hands and raised a protective barrier around the church, but the dragon’s violent strike shattered it instantly like glass. At that moment, Meneldor cast a powerful wind spell that blasted the creature away, sending it crashing into the square in front of the church.
An opening appeared. William added a binding spell, then cast Acceleration and rushed forward at tremendous speed. He drove his spear into the dragon’s chest, but—plot twist—it wasn’t enough. The thrust wasn’t fatal, and the dragon opened its maw, ready to unleash its flames on the crowded area.
William hesitated for a split second, then remembered Blood‘s favorite lesson: “If you don’t know what to do, use your muscles.” He surged forward, grabbed the dragon by the neck, and squeezed with all his strength. He essentially put a dragon in a headlock. He kept tightening his grip until the dragon’s breath stopped, then released its body.
The moment the dragon fell, Antonio rushed over and grabbed William‘s hand, thanking him for saving the city and his inventory. Bee played a victory tune, and applause erupted from the people around them.
After that, William and Meneldor continued helping the citizens repair the damage until late afternoon, when a priest came running to inform them that the city’s ruler, Prince Ethelbald, was requesting William‘s presence at the palace.
Prince Ethelbald personally summoned William to thank him for defeating the dragon and saving the city. As its ruler, he wished to reward him, so he asked if William had a wish. William then spoke about the “Forest of Beasts” (The Iron Woods) and the villages that had been attacked, requesting that the Prince send forces to help.
The Prince refused immediately. It wasn’t because he was mean; the monsters in that forest emitted a poison called Miasma, and inhaling it could drive soldiers mad. Launching an assault on the forest was an extremely dangerous gamble.
After hearing this, William asked for another wish. “If the principality can’t intervene, I’ll use my own money to form a mercenary group and lead the invasion myself.”
He was confident in his abilities and couldn’t just leave the suffering creatures in the Forest of Beasts without help. Prince Ethelbald narrowed his eyes. William was exceptional, but that made him dangerous. William understood the implication immediately: an unknown “hero” gathering a private military force outside the Prince’s authority was a potential threat to the state.
The Prince looked at him seriously, waiting for his response. William noticed the two elite soldiers standing beside the Prince, ready to strike. He could take them, but starting a civil war wasn’t on his to-do list. He had to act wisely.
William stepped forward and declared that he was a Paladin of the Goddess of Light, Gracefeel, and that his duty was to illuminate the darkest places. As a messenger of the divine, it was only natural for him to stand at the forefront of danger. He placed a hand on his chest and said with conviction, “I must light the path for those crying in the darkness.” Then he knelt before the Prince, asking for permission to carry out his plan.
The Prince warned him, “The path you’ve chosen is suicide. Even if I say yes, nobody will follow you.” Yet William kept looking at him with eyes full of resolve, determined to crush anyone who dared to stain this world.
Prince Ethelbald burst into laughter. He was now certain that William was a high-ranking messenger, and that his companion Meneldor was no ordinary elf either. Seeing William‘s confusion, the Prince explained, “Your friend Meneldor was ready to kill me the moment he sensed I might attack you.”
Suddenly, a loud voice echoed from the doorway. Bishop Bagley stormed in, furious. He scolded the Prince for summoning a registered cleric directly to the palace without going through the Temple—a blatant insult to church protocol. Prince Ethelbald smiled and replied that he merely sent an invitation; coming was William‘s choice. He also pointed out that the Temple’s own members had been eager for William‘s arrival, implying Bagley was the only one out of the loop.
This only fueled Bagley‘s anger, and he vowed to reprimand his subordinates later. The Prince stopped him, then laid his cards on the table. He admitted that he had truly considered assassinating William to prevent an uprising. But after seeing William‘s sincerity, he had a better idea: Prince Ethelbald would grant William the title of Knight.
This was a political masterstroke. If William became a Knight blessed by the Temple, he would be under the joint supervision of both the State (the Prince) and the Church (Bagley). He gets his authority, and they get to keep him on a leash.
Bagley immediately tried to object but then asked for time to think. He grabbed William and dragged him out of the palace. As they walked, Bagley was visibly furious at William for acting on his own. Meneldor stepped up to defend his friend, and the two entered a heated debate.
While they argued, William approached the girl accompanying them (often identified as the acolyte Anna in lore, though referred to here as Bagley‘s daughter). She told him about Bagley‘s past and the good deeds he had done for the city. After hearing her out, William‘s view of Bagley changed. Despite his harsh, rude exterior, Bagley was a “Tsundere” priest who actually cared deeply about the community and had loyal followers.
William called out to Bagley and genuinely thanked him for intervening during the conversation with the Prince. Bagley looked at him, narrowed his eyes, and criticized him, saying, “You still need to think carefully about the Prince’s offer. Being a knight isn’t just a fancy title.” He ordered William to return to the temple before the evening mass to settle this once and for all.
William attended the service with a distracted mind, and Bagley scolded him harshly for it. Afterward, William was forced to explain his ignorance regarding the liturgy. It turned out the Holy Scriptures had been revised 200 years ago (after the war with the High King). Since William was using the pre-revision versions taught to him by Mary and Augustus, it was obvious he had learned from priests of a bygone era. Bagley asked his “daughter” (likely the acolyte Anna) to lend William a current copy of the book so he could study at home.
William went to the church and waited for the archbishop. Watching Bagley perform the rituals, William was certain of one thing: this man was a pro. Aside from his mother Mary, he had never seen anyone carry out rights with such precision and grace. William asked Bagley out of curiosity why he didn’t perform blessing rituals openly before the masses to increase faith.
Bagley grew slightly irritated and fired back a theological question: “What do you think a blessing really is?” He explained that a God doesn’t bless someone just because they are strong or special; they bless them because the God has a specific purpose to carry out through that person. Therefore, miracles should not be performed carelessly like parlor tricks. That scarcity and reverence were what elevated the deity’s authority. William memorized every word. Despite his rough personality, Bagley was a true man of the cloth.
After the lesson, Bagley advised William that someone as immature as him couldn’t bear the political and spiritual responsibility of being a “Holy Knight” right now. He offered to help William refuse Prince Ethelbald‘s offer. However, William declined the help, determined to follow his own path.
The next day, William and Meneldor went to a restaurant/tavern to recruit. The night before, Meneldor had advised William to stop fighting demons for free and focus on people who valued reputation and reward. William tried to recruit a group of mercenaries to explore the Forest of Beasts, but once they learned the objective and the danger level, they mocked him and refused.
At that moment, a long-haired man stepped in and chased the hecklers away with his sheer presence. Clearly displeased by the noise, William looked at the man and recalled what Blood had taught him: You can judge a warrior by his hands. It was obvious this man was highly experienced; his hands were covered in callouses from sword training, and his vibe differed from those who only chased coin.
William approached, greeted the man and his team, and clearly explained the objective: a direct assault on the Demon Leader’s base within the Forest of Beasts (The Iron Woods). Everyone understood this was basically a suicide mission. But when they saw the unwavering confidence in William‘s eyes, the veteran agreed to join—on the condition that food, shelter, and fair pay were provided.
The day of William‘s knighthood ceremony drew closer, and he had to crash course proper noble conduct. Meanwhile, Antonio was trying to calculate the cost of buying horses for the expedition team, but the sheer number and price overwhelmed him. William stepped forward with a frugal (and magical) solution: buy the sick and injured horses at a discount. He assured Antonio that he could heal every single one of them with his blessing, saving them a fortune.
When Bee learned that William would be working with Reystov on the expedition, she was delighted and offered to help by gathering intelligence. It turned out she already knew Reystov. He was a well-known hero in the city—someone who took on the dangerous, low-paying jobs everyone else refused. He completed them all yet never sought fame, which only increased Bee‘s curiosity. However, she had never once succeeded in getting the stoic warrior to open up about his past.
At last, the day of the ceremony arrived. The Deputy Bishop and Prince Ethelbald personally attended the knighting ritual. From that moment on, William was officially recognized as a Holy Knight (Paladin).
That evening, the celebration began. While Meneldor sat in his corner nursing a glass of wine, William thanked the Deputy Bishop for organizing the event. Though he regretted Bishop Bagley‘s absence, the mood was lifted when an enthusiastic young man rushed over and challenged William to an arm-wrestling contest. He dragged Meneldor and Antonio into the fun as well. William watched the scene with a genuine smile. He had finally succeeded in planting the seeds of Gracefeel‘s mission among the people.
With great enthusiasm, William‘s team and the veteran explorers began their work, launching attacks against the monsters in the Forest of Beasts. After clearing several sectors, the team started delivering essential supplies to nearby isolated villages. As the supplies arrived, the farmers’ productivity gradually improved. There were initial financial losses, but Antonio assured them that profit would come in time. Antonio managed the finances with precision, acting as the CFO for William‘s startup mercenary group.
William left the business side entirely to him. His own role was to lead the explorers and remain committed to serving the church. In response to William‘s request, the Temple sent several young clerics. Despite their age, these messengers were highly skilled in rituals and proved to be a great help.
Reystov‘s team also returned from their patrols, but their mission was slightly different. The moment reports came in about monsters moving near villages, Reystov‘s group set out to hunt them down. William inspected the monster corpses they brought back and noticed that each one had been killed with a single, precise sword thrust through a vital point. That was when he realized the title “The Penetrator” (or Piercer) given to Reystov wasn’t an exaggeration—it was a literal description of his deadly efficiency.
However, combat wasn’t the only challenge. Within the Forest of Beasts, many scattered villages existed, unable to communicate with one another and burdened by old inter-tribal conflicts. This was where Bee‘s role shined. Her singing and charisma eased tensions between the villages, bringing the leaders together around the same table to share wine and mend fences.
This was exactly what William aimed to achieve in the Forest of Beasts. Over time, the change became clearly visible. Thanks to their efforts in driving out the monsters, the region gradually became safe. Merchants began to arrive, and the area grew lively once more. Seeing this, William finally understood what Augustus had meant: the ability to trade and earn money was no less important than magic itself.
As summer approached, William was sitting in his tent cleaning his spear when Reystov came to report that Bee‘s group had gone missing. They were supposed to return within 10 days, but they were already two days late. William immediately realized they’d likely encountered monsters. Reystov had considered the same possibility, yet he found it strange. Bee‘s escort group was highly competent. What kind of monster could have overwhelmed them?
William decided to move out and investigate, and of course, Meneldor went with him. William asked Reystov to bring along several additional members, and the group set off together. After a short distance, Meneldor suddenly thanked William for everything he’d done for him. Without William, he would have fallen into a deep abyss of self-loathing. William laughed and thanked him in return for helping someone who knew nothing about the outside world.
The group continued their search. When they reached a nearby mountain, they found the bodies of Bee‘s escorts, already being picked at by crows. They dug a grave nearby to lay them to rest in peace. At that moment, Meneldor noticed a massive footprint near the corpses—larger than any monster they’d encountered before. If the group had faced such a creature, it was only natural they couldn’t survive. Still, they had fought bravely.
William performed rituals for their souls while Reystov narrowed his eyes, reassessed the situation, and reminded William of a crucial detail: the body count didn’t add up. One member of the group was still missing.
