Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer

Isaac opened his eyes slowly.

He was back. The vision had ended. The memory of Abaddon's past faded, but the feelings remained clear and heavy in his chest.

He had seen Abaddon's rise, his loyalty, and his fall.

Isaac sat alone in the quiet field.

Hopper transformed into a regular locust and perched on his shoulder.

Then the voice came. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

'You feel it now, don't you?'

Isaac didn't answer.

But he knew what the voice meant.

'My power flows through you,' Abaddon said. 'But power alone does not make you strong.'

The system chime rang in his vision.

[Dark Energy Potential: 100% (Abaddon Core Linked)]

[Lumen Energy Potential: 21% (User Origin: Farmer)]

[Combat Sync Rating: 60.5% Status: Incomplete Balance Detected]

Isaac read the numbers carefully.

"…So that's the truth," Isaac whispered. "Even with the strongest darkness… I'm only half complete."

He clenched his fist. His body didn't hurt, but his spirit did.

Abaddon's voice returned, softer this time.

'You hold all of it. But you are not ready to control all of it. My strength is absolute. But your Lumen… is weak.'

Isaac narrowed his eyes.

"…Lumen?"

There was a pause. Then Abaddon answered:

'Lumen is your own energy. It is not light as the world imagines it. It is your strength—your will, your growth, your essence. It is everything that makes you, you.'

Isaac listened.

'The stronger your Lumen becomes, the more of my darkness you will be able to carry. Without corruption. Without losing yourself.'

"…So if my Lumen increases… I can keep control?"

'Yes. When your Lumen and my Abyss reach perfect sync… then you will no longer be my vessel. You will be my equal.'

Isaac looked at the system again.

21% Lumen.

100% Darkness.

60.5% total.

He understood the math now.

If someone else had 60% Lumen and a demon inside them with only 80% dark energy, their combined strength would be 70%—higher than his.

Meaning… Isaac was not the strongest. Not even close.

He exhaled through gritted teeth.

"…So I can be surpassed."

'You were once a farmer,' Abaddon continued. 'Your body was not forged for battle. Your soul… was not born for war. But you are becoming more.'

Isaac's heart beat faster.

But he didn't feel fear.

Only the weight of truth.

He looked up at the fading sky.

"…Then I need to get stronger."

"Yes," Abaddon said.

His voice drifted for a moment. The ancient warrior, once called the King of the Abyss, paused as if unsure.

"…Even I do not know what you will become."

"…You don't know?"

"I was already one of the strongest," Abaddon said. "I crushed demons. I held the Abyss. My strength reached the peak of darkness."

"But if your Lumen rises to match it—if light and dark find true balance in a single vessel…"

Another pause.

This time, deeper.

"…Then you will surpass everything I ever was."

Isaac felt his chest tighten. Not from fear, but from the weight of that possibility.

The system was still open in his vision.

[Dark Energy Potential: 100%]

[Lumen Energy Potential: 21%]

[Sync Rating: 60.5%]

He stared at the numbers again.

And whispered, more to himself than anyone else—

"…Then I have to earn it. Piece by piece."

—------

Meanwhile…

In the open courtyard behind the Bulcan Palace, orange light danced across the stone tiles. Each breath Aiah took released a small flame. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes remained locked on the fading trail of fire in the air.

She had been training since dawn.

Now, her clothes were drenched with sweat, and her magic had nearly run dry. Her knees buckled as she dropped into a kneeling position, gasping for air.

Footsteps approached.

"Aiah."

It was Elder Peter.

He knelt beside her and handed her a flask of cool water. She took it without a word, drinking deeply, then wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Elder Peter smiled gently. "You've improved. Your flames are sharper. More stable. You've reached Class-A Fire Mage… not many in the kingdom have."

Aiah didn't answer right away.

Her gaze was still on her own hands—scarred slightly from the heat of her own power. She clenched them slowly.

"…Not enough," she said at last.

Elder Peter raised an eyebrow. "Even now?"

Aiah nodded. "Bulcan's enemies aren't slowing down. I can't either. I need to grow stronger. For the people… and for him."

The memory of Isaac's words still echoed in her heart. That determined look in his eyes. That pain he carried alone.

Peter didn't press further. He understood.

But before another word could pass between them, a palace guard arrived, hurried and uneasy.

"Your Majesty," the guard said, lowering his head, "There is someone requesting to speak with you. In private."

Aiah turned to him calmly. "Who?"

The guard hesitated, then answered,

"Princess Mikaela of Carreon."

The courtyard fell silent.

Even Elder Peter looked surprised. His eyes narrowed slightly. Aiah turned her gaze back to the training field for a brief moment. The flames she had summoned moments ago had faded into smoke.

She closed her eyes. Her voice was calm but firm.

"Escort her to the meeting chamber. I'll follow shortly."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard replied, and quickly left.

—------

A few moments later, the door to the meeting room opened.

Queen Aiah stepped in, her steps calm, her gaze unreadable. She wore her training robes, slightly singed from fire practice, but her posture remained regal. She closed the door behind her.

Princess Mikaela stood and offered a respectful bow.

"I thank you for seeing me, Queen Aiah."

Aiah gave a slight nod and moved to sit across from her.

She observed Mikaela quietly, two servants waited outside, and the princess wore a traveler's cloak instead of noble garments. Not even a single jewel.

"You came discreetly," Aiah said at last. "No royal carriage. No crest. Why?"

Mikaela lifted her eyes.

"Because this is not a visit of politics… It's a plea."

Aiah's brows tightened slightly, but she said nothing.

Mikaela inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

"King Azar of Velcro has sent me a marriage proposal."

Aiah's eyes narrowed.

'…Again?' she muttered to herself.

"This time, he sent Drako as his envoy." Mikaela continued.

The queen's breath hitched. Her gaze sharpened.

"Drako? Of Knightdom?"

"Yes," Mikaela confirmed. Her voice was steady, but her hands were tense on her lap. "He is… still alive. Or rather, he cannot die. The stories are true. He now serves Azar."

Aiah looked away for a moment, trying to process it.

"And if you refuse?"

Mikaela's next words were quiet, but heavy.

"Carreon will fall overnight. That was his warning."

A pause.

"…He said, 'The dead do not wait.'"

The room fell into silence. The only sound was the soft wind brushing against the curtains.

Aiah crossed her legs slowly. Her expression was unreadable.

"You want Bulcan's help," she said at last.

Mikaela nodded. "Yes. If war breaks out… we cannot win alone. I came not as a princess… but as a daughter trying to protect what's left of her home."

Aiah's lips pressed into a line.

"And why should I help a kingdom that once sided with Geoffrey?" she asked flatly.

Mikaela looked her in the eyes.

"Because Azar doesn't respect borders. If Carreon falls, Bulcan won't be far behind. You know this."

Aiah didn't reply.

The tension remained… but Mikaela continued. Her voice was softer now. Lower.

"I have one more request."

Aiah's eyes narrowed slightly.

"They say… you are protected by someone. A man… or maybe a myth. A farmer who turned an entire battlefield to ash. The Ghost General."

She leaned forward slightly.

"If the stories are true… I want to request him too."

Aiah's gaze changed. It turned cold. Almost sharp.

"…You speak of him like he's a weapon to be used. A tool to be passed around."

Mikaela blinked.

"I don't care what he is," she said, her voice strained. "If he exists, if he fights for you, I need him."

Aiah looked away.

Her expression unreadable. But her thoughts… weren't calm.