Once Freya and the others had completely disappeared from view, Charlotte finally settled down. Unlike approaching the ranch from another direction, where he could use a patch of colorful forest for cover, here he had to contend with the watchful eyes of a whole squad of skeleton soldiers on the way to the underbrush below.
Adventure was unavoidable, but unnecessary risks were not worth taking. He decided to wait until it was later, as while the undead could detect life energy, their search range was limited at night.
However, Charlotte was not idle; he was observing the patrol patterns of the skeleton soldiers below. Soon, he identified a gap between patrols—a ten-second window between the crossing of two scattered teams.
He assessed the terrain—the twenty-meter distance from here to the underbrush, coupled with his agility at only level 2, made it nearly impossible to complete a round trip of forty meters and dig out the key buried under the tree within ten seconds, especially in his weakened state.
He decided to take another approach.
The sky quickly darkened.
It was time to act. He told himself as he blended into the dim surroundings, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation.
This was a life-or-death game, and there was no more thrilling death penalty than this!
He held his breath and focused on the area below, counting silently to fourteen—exactly the time needed for two pairs of skeleton soldiers to cross paths. He threw his sword in that direction as the first step.
The twenty-meter distance, and the sword landing on the soft fallen leaves, made a faint rustling sound. Charlotte held his breath and waited, watching for the patrols to pass a second time. Only when he confirmed everything was normal did he exhale in relief.
Next came the crucial part of the plan. Charlotte counted silently again, waiting for the third crossing of the skeleton soldiers, and then, taking a deep breath, he darted out. At that moment, his mind was almost blank—no thoughts, no concerns, only one goal: speed, speed, speed.
Three seconds.
Charlotte reached the spot and breathed a sigh of relief. He crouched down, cleared the fallen leaves, and grabbed the sword to start digging, but the progress was much slower than he expected. As he dug, he silently counted, "One, two, three."
Six seconds.
He gave himself an extra second, then discarded the sword and started running back. The scenery blurred past him as he dashed into the bushes and stopped, feeling his heart nearly stop.
The skeleton soldiers crossed paths for the fourth time and did not detect him. Charlotte took a deep breath, feeling a mix of exhilaration and weakness from the adrenaline rush.
He retreated to wait for the second round. The second attempt, he was much calmer, but it also yielded no results.
On the third attempt, he only managed to dig for two seconds due to noticeable fatigue. On the fourth attempt, he finally touched the cold, square object beneath the soil. Though he had never seen this before, his heartbeat quickened at that moment.
This was it.
Charlotte felt a sense of certainty and, for a moment, was eager to pull it out, but he knew time was running short. He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, put down the sword, and ran back.
On the fifth attempt, Charlotte was fully composed. He reached the tree, began to pry at the square stone slab with the sword, and it quickly loosened. Just then, his ears twitched—wait, the sounds were different. The patrol route of the skeleton soldiers below had changed.
Impossible! Charlotte's mind went cold. He didn't know if this was a cruel joke from the heavens. The skeleton soldiers of Madara lacked basic intelligence and would not change their patrol plans unless instructed by a necromancer. But necromancers would not randomly alter their original intentions.
Unless there was an external force intervening.
Charlotte's past gaming experience suddenly became incredibly clear. He couldn't help but glance towards the ranch. Had Freya and Eason been exposed? But from the slope, that direction appeared calm, and the young man quickly dismissed that idea.
The footsteps of the skeleton soldiers behind him grew louder; the creatures must have detected him. Charlotte felt his blood freeze. What should he do? There were six skeleton soldiers below, any one of whom could kill him.
Use the Wind Ring? No, not only would the noise attract trouble, but with the wind projectiles' size, hitting three skeletons was impressive—what about the rest?
Charlotte's scalp tingled with fear. He kept reminding himself to stay calm and think about what he would typically do in the game. Right, utilize the advantages—every attribute point and skill could be used to survive in desperate situations.
Just use your imagination.
He immediately thought of a possibility, but this crazy idea scared him. This wasn't a game—Charlotte, can you afford the cost? He asked himself, but the skeleton soldiers were getting closer. He had to make a choice.
He took a deep breath, then suddenly swung his long sword and stabbed it into his abdomen.
The tearing pain in his stomach was a thousand times more intense than in the game, and Charlotte moaned, almost collapsing. He felt he was going insane, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, but at the same time, the footsteps of the skeleton soldiers stopped.
Success, the Unyielding skill took effect, fooling the mindless skeleton soldiers.
Charlotte dared not slacken his pace. Gritting his teeth through bouts of dizziness, he pulled out the sword. Although he avoided the vital areas, blood still splattered everywhere. The young man could not bear to look and almost gasped for breath as he pried the square stone slab loose and turned to slide down the slope.
He had five minutes to save himself; his life hung by a thread.
The soul fire ignited by the Unyielding skill supported him as he stumbled towards the village. But as soon as he entered the village, he was startled by the sight of white skeleton soldiers scattered among the ruins—these new skeletons were the work of necromancers, emerging from graves or tearing through flesh.
Under the dimming sky, these pale skeletons gave a tremendous sense of oppression. Fortunately, Charlotte was well-experienced; otherwise, he would have been overwhelmed.
He steadied himself, counted the numbers—more than fifty just in view, a considerable number. This meant Madara's invasion power was growing with their advance. The only consolation was that these flimsy skeletons were not as strong as their darkened counterparts.
In fact, they were even slightly weaker than an ordinary adult male.
Charlotte observed as he advanced, heading for the village's small shrine, which should be to the north—if his memory served him right. One benefit of death's many drawbacks was that wandering undead viewed him as one of their own. Even if Charlotte bumped into these headless creatures, they would only adjust their balance and continue forward.
This was a huge advantage.
Using this advantage, he found the shrine of Kalidas in just over three minutes. However, it seemed that Madara's undead were not particularly respectful of this game's pottery deity, as they had collapsed one of the shrine's walls.
This provided Charlotte with considerable convenience. He directly followed the wall into the shrine, where it was pitch dark. He remembered that this shrine had been rebuilt later, but after some exploration, he found that the internal environment was not much different. He quickly located the passage to the contemplation chamber based on his memory.
To his surprise, there was a wandering skeleton in the contemplation chamber, which startled Charlotte in the darkness. Luckily, his nerves were resilient. He soon calmed down, took a deep breath, and reassured himself that it was just a mindless puppet.
But breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and his vision was starting to blur. He had about a minute left.
Charlotte recalled that the entrance to the secret passage should be behind the podium. He groped around and found the square recess. At that moment, he was grateful for Martha's scent. He shakily pressed the stone slab into place, fearing that heaven might play another cruel joke.
Fortunately, it did not. In the pitch darkness, there was a soft click, then a second click, followed by a muffled rumble from below, and finally a whoosh as a slight breeze brushed against his back.
Charlotte looked back and saw the downward passage—a tunnel illuminated by light, with purple glow crystals embedded in the walls. These were not valuable, but the dim light was not widely used.
He shook his head, dizziness nearly overcoming him. In "Amber Sword," the Unyielding skill would not cause any discomfort within the five-minute effect period, but once time was up, even the most resilient nerves would collapse immediately.
Charlotte was barely holding on by sheer willpower, driven by the will to survive. As he walked, he recalled the origin of the tomb—an illustrious NPC, Sir Gijande, who was a local born and had participated in the War of Independence of Eluin. He lived an upright life, and after his death, people buried him back in his hometown according to his wishes.
It was said that the area was once a forest, later replaced by a shrine, and the Hall of Flame modified the knight's tomb to ensure he rested in peace in the divine realm. The sword he sought, known as the Radiant Stinger, was the weapon used by the knight in life. Though he did not wish to disturb the dead's peace, he assumed the knight would not want the undead ravaging his homeland.
The young man began to pant, supporting himself against the walls of the tomb as he advanced thirty meters. The light at the end of the tunnel grew brighter—a continuous, soft white light likely created by some advanced