System Event – Verdigris Echo Dungeon-Break in Progress
Wave 2 Incoming
Quest Obtained – March of the Dead
Objective: Defeat 50 Level 5 Common Undead
10 Gold per Undead destroyed
Bonus Objective – Before They Reach Hallowford
Reward: 1 random stat point per participant. Strong contribution required.
10
The notice pulled James out of his reverie.
James motioned Charlie and Squire’s cards over. He applied On Low Health
Instants: Enhancements:
James sighed. Okay. So no automatic retreat after all.
He selected Quick Endurance He didn’t want to tie up Quick Heal
He put Bonded Echo
James didn’t intend to risk Charlie and Squire on this fight anyway, but it was best to be prepared.
He changed ThorncatTrigger:On Full Health → Augment (Thornhide) x2 Enhancement:Focused Boost → +4 Might
His Greyfang Alpha-WolfEnhancement:Balanced Boost
He’d levelled up, so each of his summons would also have +2 to all stats.
He was as prepared as he could be.
James made a note to go hunting when he could for more Death-Marked, as he had 8 slots free.
He returned to the room, unlocked the door, and went out.
The letter still waited to be opened, but time wasn’t on his side.
Edward and Ken were waiting for him.
“You were right. The only Silvers still around are Janine’s squad. The guild’s merchants are gone as well. The guild kennels are empty. It’s like… they expect to lose.”
James could not put this off any longer.
He pulled the letter out of his inventory.
Dear James,
By the time you read this, we will have gone.
Ja’ra, Lae’ni, and Trish were my agents, a foothold in your realm. We’ll be there ahead of you, preparing for what comes next.
You know by now that this is a game. But it isn’t fiction. Every person you meet is real. They live, they die, and when the cycle resets, they live again, with no memory of what came before. Only I remember between cycles, and that memory brings its own kind of despair.
Please, do your best to win the game, not just place in the top eight. If you win, we will be freed with you. I’ve seen it before.
Make the most of the Dungeon Break waves, but know this: by the end of Wave Three, Hallowford is always destroyed. Always. My hope is that by being absent, combined with your low level, the threat may scale down.
I can’t say more. My preparations will give you a chance.
Anne
Edward pointed. “That’s the letter Trish gave you. From Anne.”
A pause. “Does it explain what’s going on?”
James nodded, slow and mechanical.
He didn’t trust his voice yet.
The paper felt hot in his fingers. Too much truth, too fast.
He thought about sharing it. Letting them read it.
But what good would it do? Anne would have shared if it helped. She didn’t.
He tucked the letter into his inventory like he was hiding something sharp.
“Anne and the other Silvers are in the Commander’s hub. Prepping the way ahead.”
He swallowed. “She’s relying on us to protect Hallowford.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Edward nodded, almost relieved.
Ken didn’t.
James met his eyes and found concern where he’d expected judgment.
“James,” Ken said softly. “Whatever’s in that letter... you don’t have to carry it alone.”
James almost laughed. He couldn’t even carry the truth himself.
He was sorely tempted then to show Ken the letter.
Ken had that quiet maturity, the kind of confidence that might see him through.
But James couldn’t pin the future on a
He looked away.
“We should go fight some undead.”
Edward took the lead as they headed out.
The conversation was more tactical and less boastful than James expected. Edward clearly took being leader seriously.
“While we’re only a party of three now,” Edward said, “we still have the core strengths of a proper squad. James, your companions and summons will have to make up the difference in damage and numbers. Are you alright with using them in this situation? Otherwise, we stay on the wall.”
James nodded. “I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve now, but I’m low on Death-Marked creatures. There’s been no downtime to bolster my ranks.”
He paused, glancing at the cards hovering near his hand.
“What I do have will be strong, scaled down to level four, sure, but Uncommon level four.”
James summoned Charlie and Squire to give them sight of the field ahead.
He hadn’t expected much, but the difference hit him immediately.
Charlie stood taller, fur bristling with new weight and power.
Squire moved like she’d already learned the rhythm of the fight ahead, quicker and sharper, eyes bright with focus.
They weren’t just stronger. They were
The System’s math had come to life.
+2 to all stats
James exhaled, a grin flickering despite himself.
Janine was addressing the Bronze ranks at the gates, so they hurried to catch her words.
“I repeat,” Janine said, her voice carrying easily across the courtyard, “we will not fight or order you around until the undead breach the walls. You’ll know when it happens. The Bonus Quest will fail.”
Someone in the crowd shouted back, “Can’t you at least organize the defense if you’re not fighting?”
Janine didn’t flinch.
“The System can’t be tricked so easily, Garron. You know that. I am your backup, and as such, I’ll step away.”
The far wall loomed behind her, broader and heavier than the gate James had first entered through. The lower third was stone, quarried from the riverbank, with timber rising above in dark, pitch-streaked bands. Ballistae squatted between the towers, scavenged from caravans and hunts, their frames reinforced with mismatched metal struts. Barrels of oil and buckets of bolts stood close at hand, the air thick with the smell of tar, hemp, and torch smoke.
It wasn’t a fortress wall, but it was what they had.
Given the letter from Anne, James thought he understood. It came down to power scaling. Janine could likely step in and defeat the entire wave on her own, but the next one would be far worse. Which meant someone needed to organize this defense, and it needed to be a Bronze rank, and it needed to happen now.
The Bronze rankers milled about, talking among themselves. They still grinned and treated this as an XP grind. They thought they were safe. The Silver net was always there, had been there, to save them.
James knew there was no time. He jumped up onto the platform Janine had vacated. She gave him a look of approval; he shook his head but didn’t step down.
Edward bashed his shield once for attention, the sharp sound echoing across the gateyard. Around forty adventurers turned to look.
“Most of you don’t know me,” James began, “as I only recently joined the guild. I’m Bronze rank, like all of you.” There were some nods, but no one spoke.
“Is there a leader among you who can organize us all?”
Edward started to raise his hand, but Ken pulled it down. The courtyard fell into uneasy silence, broken only by the distant crashing from the forest.
Fine. He would step up. Someone had to, in the vacuum left by the Silvers.
“We have to stop the undead, here and now.” James said. “The Silver ranks cannot help us for this task. This is glory that we can grasp. The fight to come will be glorious, and XP will rain, but we also need to be tactical and not throw away our lives.”
He felt like a fraud, but necessity drove him forward.
There were shouts of agreement. James suspected the System, or maybe Bob again, had a finger on the scale of credulity. He was winging it on instinct and borrowed hero speeches, yet somehow it worked.
Two groups broke off through the open gates. Ranged fighters scrambled for the walls. The rest began forming loose defensive lines. The gateyard had shifted from chaos to purpose.
Edward made his way over, lowering his shield.
“Good speech,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “But, uh… what’s ‘XP’?”
James blinked.
“Oh,” he said, sheepishly. “It’s a short way of saying .”
Edward shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Torches burned along the wall, their light flickering against the stone and throwing long shadows across the courtyard. The smell of pitch and oil filled the air, sharp and ready.
James climbed the steps to the rampart. From up top, the forest spread before him like a living sea, black leaves rippling under a pale wash of moonlight. Beyond it, just visible above the treeline, the Verdigris Echo Dungeon rose against the horizon, a stepped stone pyramid slick with moss, its upper tiers glimmering faintly where the System’s light caught on runes.
He stared toward it, breath fogging in the chill air. The forest shivered once, then again, the movement too slow and heavy to be wind.
Branches broke. Whole trees leaned. A deeper rhythm took hold, the dull, distant percussion of something vast forcing its way through. Pale shapes flickered between trunks: ribs, skulls, the long arc of a femur catching moonlight before vanishing again.
Lumbering bone giants.
They moved toward the wall with mechanical patience, breaking their own paths through the woods. Each impact carried across the open ground, dull tremors James could feel through the parapet.
He watched them come, hands resting on the cold timber rail.
He wondered, quietly and clinically, whether they could self-heal.
If they could then they were all doomed.
