"He does the same job as I do," whispered the mercenary in the cellar.
Like his job, they were all mercenaries, but the difference was that the Undead could not die, so they acted more recklessly.
And they received more respect than he did.
The Frost Bear King, the Bandit King, Bear Port—the story could probably start from a decade ago, from the first time he chopped off a man's head with an axe in a pub or when he forced a lord to open his castle doors and hand over his wife and daughter within a month.
But when the Undead's Greatsword decapitated him, no one wanted to know the story of a beheaded bandit anymore.
Sydney's brother stood atop a mountain of corpses, wielding an axe.
They had taken an emergency rescue mission, with no reward, because they had stumbled upon the soldiers from Newmoon Town running to other villages for help while they were on the road.
