Might of Players

---Viktor's POV---

Just as the glowing orb was questioning its life choices, Edgar had already dug out all my bones.

I watched as he erected a barrier at the spot to shield against the raging magical winds. The translucent dome of energy rippled as it deflected the harsh gusts, creating a pocket of calm around us.

At least we won't have to shout over the wind anymore, I thought as my scattered bones began to move.

My white bones made a cracking sound as they assembled on the ground into a complete skeleton. Because the bone fractures were resolved with 10 points of divine power, my skeletal frame was perfectly intact, showing no signs of severe injury.

Well, at least divine power made for good bone glue.

Two clusters of ghostly blue soul fire ignited within my skull's eye sockets, bringing me fully back to life.

Let's see... arms, legs... everything where it should be. More or less.

I moved my neck around to ensure my head was still attached and cheerfully greeted my old friend.

"Good morning, Edgar."

I'd managed to evade the pursuits of numerous churches for hundreds of years, and of course, I hadn't done it alone.

No matter how powerful or dominant the church's influence was, there would always be those who defied convention. Thus, I had created an organization called The Watchers, specifically recruiting those without divine faith, and even "heretics" who were anti-god.

The organization's daily tasks were to prevent gods from breaking free of their coffins and resurrecting, oppose all the churches, and occasionally solve each other's problems.

Although the organization had few members, every one of them was exceptional.

Take Edgar, for instance.

He was once a holy knight nurtured by the Radiant Church from childhood—a human prodigy with the highest magical talent discovered in the centuries following the fall of the God of Light.

By age 20, he had been granted the title of "Knight of Dawn" and was the undisputed candidate for the next pope.

Unfortunately, on his path to becoming pope, he met me.

After my persuasive ramblings, Edgar came to an "enlightened" realization about the importance of gods—they were important precisely because the absence of gods was important for humanity and all races.

And so, he decisively defected from the Radiant Church and ended up on the church's wanted list alongside me.

"There's no such thing as morning on the Frostwind Plains," Edgar said, glancing back at the bones he'd dug up and the bloodied, ruined altar.

Still the same old Edgar. That frown hasn't changed a bit.

I could see his slight frown at the smell of blood in the air. Many people had died on these plains, and in the process of finding me, Edgar had dug up more bones than I ever had. It must have been an enormous effort.

"It's really not easy to find you. Thirty years without seeing you, and you've managed to get yourself into this state again?"

I propped myself up with my skeletal hand and barely sat upright. "A failed experiment, coupled with your old church chasing me down. I accidentally suffered a minor injury."

"Don't move," Edgar ordered, examining my damaged frame. "These fractures... what exactly did you do this time?"

"Would you believe me if I said I tripped?"

"No."

"Good, because I didn't. If you'd arrived four days later, you'd have been digging up a real skeleton."

I tried to stand but, after a few attempts, gave up and sat back down.

Being buried wasn't too bad, but now that I was out, every part of me hurt. My body was riddled with the side effects of a failed forbidden magic spell. It felt like there was a giant funnel inside me, constantly leaking my magical energy.

Edgar immediately held me down. "This will hurt."

"I'm a skeleton. Everything hurts."

"Then this will hurt more."

He then took out the magic potion he'd brought and began emergency treatment.

I had an unhealthy obsession with forbidden magic to restore my humanity, and this wasn't the first time I'd been injured.

Edgar had plenty of experience rescuing me, so the treatment went quickly.

A skeleton only had bones left, after all, so there wasn't much to treat. Recovery potions could be applied directly to the bones. The more complicated part was treating the spiritual damage.

I watched as his frown deepened while treating me. I knew I was too gravely injured this time. Even the worst injuries he'd treated for me in the past didn't amount to a tenth of this.

My claim of "four days left" wasn't an exaggeration.

Once he finished the emergency treatment, his expression turned serious.

"Your injuries are far too severe. I can only prevent them from worsening for now. You need to leave here immediately for proper healing."

"This can wait. I won't die just yet." I leaned against a broken rock and glanced behind Edgar. "Just you today? I'm hurt. Metaphorically, I mean. Literally too, but... Are you the only one here?"

If I remembered correctly, my distress signal should have reached all the members of The Watchers.

After all, I was still their leader. If their leader was injured, wouldn't more than one person come to save me? That seemed a little heartless, didn't it?

Edgar's gaze turned shadowy, as though he had anticipated this question. He stuck his shovel into the ground and began listing names.

"The siren is preparing for the ritual to resurrect the God of Sea, so Claire had to deal with that first."

"Always something with those gods..."

"The Elf King is gravely ill, so Kasha had to return to the Elven Forest."

"The king still sick?"

"Getting worse. And Ludwig got dragged back by his clansmen… I was the only one free enough to come to your rescue."

Though his voice was devoid of emotion, I could hear the resentment between the lines. "When was the last time you actually checked on anyone?"

I let out an awkward laugh. "I've been busy! Do you know how hard it is to run from churches AND do forbidden magic research? That's exactly the problem. Ahaha… well, it seems like everyone's been… um, living a colorful life?"

Over the past few years, I'd been relentlessly pursued by the Radiant Church. And my research on necromantic resurrection magic had made some progress. In the chaos, I had neglected the organization's management.

As a leader, I had admittedly failed a bit…

I paused briefly before asking nonchalantly, "And Serkan? You haven't mentioned him. Why didn't I hear his name?"

A long pause followed.

"…He died of old age."

My laughter stopped abruptly.

After a long silence, my voice dropped two tones lower. "Yeah, I guess it's about time. Fifteen years ago, he asked me to turn him..." I started.

"I remember."

"If I'd just had those herbs..."

"Don't. You know he wouldn't want that."

The last time I had seen the dwarven craftsman was 15 years ago. Back then, Serkan had asked me to turn him into an undead to extend his life. Unfortunately, I had been missing two key magical herbs at the time, so nothing came of it.

The atmosphere seemed to turn cold.

Edgar calmly put away the potion bottles. "We're down to single digits now."

"Quality over quantity?" I tried weakly.

"Not funny, Viktor." Edgar shot back. "I'm telling you this so you'll stop messing around. We don't have many people left."

My obsession with forbidden necromantic magic was driven by my desire to shed my undead identity and become human again. But progress was painfully slow, and for centuries, I hadn't succeeded once.

Each failed attempt left me severely injured and created remnants of failed undead transformations—human limbs. Moreover, the raw materials for these experiments were monster corpses.

Undead, black magic, human limbs, and monsters—these four words alone were enough to fuel endless horrific rumors among the ignorant populace. As a result, my already notorious reputation had worsened over the past two centuries.

I was now infamously known as the "Butcher."

Even The Watchers organization had been affected. No new members had joined in over a century. And now, yet another old member was gone. The group's numbers had officially fallen to single digits.

The remaining members were all tangled up in their own troubles and couldn't even gather in one place.

At this rate, the organization's complete collapse was only a matter of me saying the word...

Edgar extended his hand, his weathered face showing that tired but stubborn look I'd grown used to over our century together.

"Come on, we need to find a magic node within four days to save your half-buried body."

Always straight to business, aren't you, old friend?

Being an undead had its perks.

Though I retained all my memories, which made me special among the undead, I also inherited their remarkable resilience. Even injuries affecting my core soul flame could recover quickly with sufficient magic power.

Thank goodness for that—otherwise, with my tendency to completely drain my magic reserves every few decades, I would have destroyed myself long ago.

Right now, my injuries looked severe, but preliminary estimates suggested that burying me in a large magic node and forcing me into sleep mode for twenty or thirty years would fully restore me.

However...

Large magic nodes were mostly controlled by powerful nations and churches, or located in monster-infested no-man's lands. The closest potential large magic node was in the Great Oak Forest, more than a hundred kilometers away.

Edgar could travel there easily on his own. But with me in tow, it would take at least a full day to reach the destination—assuming no encounters with monsters along the way that would waste time. Add in the time needed to locate the exact position of the magic node, and the situation was tight. We had to act immediately.

"Wait!" I didn't take Edgar's hand. "Where are you planning to take me?"

"Of course, the Great Oak Forest," Edgar replied matter-of-factly.

"And exactly where they expect us to go," I muttered.

"Since when do you care about being predictable?"

"I'm occasionally capable."

He glanced at me with a slight frown. Despite my grievous injuries, I remained conscious—an impossible state for any other race.

"Only places with monsters will have unclaimed magic nodes that can help you recover. The Great Oak Forest is dangerous, but it's safer for you than any human settlement. What are you afraid of?"

"It's not fear, it's... strategy."

"Strategy. You." His voice was flat with disbelief.

I knew undead in a false-death state were almost indistinguishable from ordinary bones. Monsters had low intelligence, so if I were buried for a couple of decades, I'd wake up perfectly fine.

It wasn't Edgar's first time dealing with something like this, so I understood his confusion at my sudden concern about the plan's safety.

I shook my head, then nodded again.

"It's a long story. Just help me find a small magic node to keep me going. I won't enter sleep mode this time."

"And the real reason is...?"

"Can't a skeleton have his secrets?"

Edgar frowned but didn't argue. He nodded instead. "Fine."

The Radiant Church's people were nearby, and they already knew I was seriously injured. They had likely headed to the known large magic nodes in the Great Oak Forest, lying in wait for us. Finding a smaller magic node would also allow us to avoid these pursuers.

I was surprised by his quick agreement. "Not going to ask why I'm doing this?"

"Why?" Edgar repeated without much interest.

"Can't you be a little more sincere? We've known each other for nearly a hundred years. Aren't you going to try to persuade me?"

"Would you listen if I tried?"

"No."

He narrowed his eyes slightly with a "See? I knew it" look, which made me feel a bit embarrassed.

"Ahem, don't freak out when I tell you this."

He was about to nod but hesitated. "Usually, when you say something like that, it's never good news. Last time you said that, we ended up digging twice as many skeletons."

"No, this time it's definitely good news." I suddenly spoke with serious conviction. "Because we're about to welcome a massive batch of reinforcements. As the leader of our organization, of course, I can't go to sleep now."

"Think about it—no more digging for skeletons in the wilderness!"

"That's what you said last time," he sighed. "It always is."

"But with our reputation, how did you manage to find new recruits in Aeltia?"

I scratched my head.

"Technically, I didn't find them in Aeltia. It's a long story..."

"Then make it short." Edgar interrupted. "What do you need me to do?"

I knew The Watchers' biggest problem right now was manpower. If we had enough people, Edgar wouldn't have to avoid the Radiant Church's pursuers just to find an unclaimed magic node. Even if the reinforcements could only help with grunt work, it would be welcome.

At the very least, as a former holy knight of the Radiant Church, he wouldn't have to do the ridiculous task of digging for skeletons in the wilderness.

I noticed his usually stone-cold face softening at the thought.

I gave a thumbs-up. "That's all I needed to hear!"

"I need to find a magic node to temporarily suppress my injuries. I don't care how big it is, but it has to be far from any kingdom's territories. There also needs to be water nearby and enough arable land—enough to grow crops to sustain at least a hundred people."

"Anything else? Perhaps a nice view and room service?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"I'm leaving you here if you finish that sentence," Edgar cut in flatly. Then he lowered his head and pondered for a moment before firmly nodding. "But I can find you that magic node and the farmland."

---

The small glowing orb in my inner sanctum was dumbfounded. 

"A holy knight just... agreeing like that?" it muttered in disbelief. "Without even asking the important questions?"

I could feel its agitation growing.

"Let me get this straight," the orb continued. "You want fertile land—which is already claimed by every kingdom out there. You want a magic node far from any kingdom—which is basically monster territory. And you somehow need water and enough farmland for a hundred people?"

The orb's glow flickered in what I assumed was frustration. "Where are these hundred people even coming from? I've been with you all day! All you've done is mess around with that strange blue light! You can't possibly..."

It paused, its glow dimming slightly.

"Wait. You're not suggesting you can pull people out of that light orb, are you?"

Shush, you. Adults are talking.

---

Edgar picked up my skeletal frame and stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait, let me take a picture first!"

I struggled back down, my ghostly blue eye flames flickering.

After recording Edgar and the desolate Frostwind Plains behind him, I climbed back onto his back.

"Okay, let's go."

"You're keeping a lot of secrets lately," he muttered softly.

Saying nothing more, he picked up his worn-out hoe and quickly leaped into action.

---Logan's POV---

I couldn't sleep. All I did was toss and turn in bed, my brain stuck on that Chronicles of Aeltia website I saw earlier. Like an itch I just couldn't scratch.

It was just a terrible website. Why couldn't I stop thinking about it?

Maybe because terrible websites didn't usually have army-sized bot campaigns?

If a company went so far as to hire this many bots for publicity, they must have really made progress with virtual reality game technology, right?

Just like the Skyrain Company. They had dared to release a concept trailer for Netherworld Revolution because they had recently acquired a brainwave sensing technology patent.

I suddenly sat up and slapped my forehead.

"My brain really has been kicked by a donkey..."

No matter how terrible the Chronicles of Aeltia website looked, I couldn't suppress my curiosity about the game's alleged VR technology.

Getting out of bed, I turned on the lights and sat at my desk. As I clicked into the Netherworld Revolution comment section, I muttered. "What if the site I saw earlier was a knockoff? These days, fakes stack on fakes. Who knows if that was the real official site?"

I cursed my stubborn nature. If I weren't so single-minded, I wouldn't still be stuck in the game blogger life.

Clicking the same promotional link again, I watched as the loading screen dragged on for another three minutes, drumming my fingers impatiently on the desk.

This better be worth it...

My sense of dread grew stronger.

Finally, the page loaded—this time with minor layout improvements. But the battle-scarred, war-torn theme still dominated.

I sighed in disappointment.

So the website I saw earlier really was the official one.

Even if the Chronicles of Aeltia developers had VR technology, at the pace they were going, who knew how many years it would take for the game to be finished?

Maybe I should just call it a night...

As I prepared to close the computer, something colorful caught my eye…