A pale blue interface unfolded before Nolan. His gaze locked onto the experience bar.
【Name: Nolan】
【Total EXP: 47,536】
His breathing stalled for a moment. Over forty thousand? He blinked hard to make sure it wasn’t a blur from blood loss. No mistake—that was the number he had seen. He quickly scrolled through the log as lines of experience gains cascaded like a waterfall, dense kill records filling nearly the entire panel.
Nolan understood. In this battle, he had been the commander and the only “player” in this world, so every undead slain in the campaign had counted toward his experience alone. He could almost thank those undead for tearfully gifting him a “super rocket.” The sheer volume of experience was enough to bring about a massive transformation.
Suppressing his surge of excitement, he began to plan. This amount of experience was sufficient to push any base class straight to level 15, unlocking its first truly meaningful class skill. Militia or Mercenary?
In Glory, the Militia’s max-level skill was the passive Unyielding. When health dropped to zero, the user would not die immediately but would continue to survive for ten minutes, during which health could fall into the negative. The effect ended when time ran out or health returned to positive, and after activation it had a thirty-minute cooldown.
The Mercenary’s max-level skill, on the other hand, was the active Assault, a simple and brutal burst ability that consumed double stamina to deal double damage.
In the original game, Unyielding was considered somewhat underwhelming by most players. Aside from those who favored PvP or took on suicidal dirty work, few bothered with it. Recovering from negative health required a large amount of potions, making it inefficient, and ten minutes was rarely enough to reverse a major disadvantage. More importantly, players did not fear death.
But here and now, it was a god-tier skill, a trump card capable of turning the tide in desperate situations. Especially at his current stage, before he had truly grown, a higher margin for error meant everything. With top-tier equipment still difficult to obtain at this point, his adventures needed insurance. Having lived a second life, death had become an absolute line he could not cross. If he died, it would truly be the end. To save this kingdom, he needed to become a king, not join the dead.
As for Assault, it was an excellent skill as well, but given his swordsmanship, offensive power was not his most urgent concern right now.
Having reached a decision, Nolan no longer hesitated and invested 26,000 experience into Militia.
【Total Level: 18 (Militia Lv.15, MAX; Mercenary Lv.8/15, EXP: 0/240】
【Power Tier: Bronze (Level 1–25), Physical】
【HP: 720/720】
A domineering force surged through him, reshaping bone and renewing flesh, sweeping away the fatigue and pain from the night before.
【Condition achieved: “Base class maxed 1/1.” Total level cap unlocked: 25 → 50.】
He saw a gray icon appear beside his health bar, shaped like a shattered shield.
Unyielding, done.
Next, all he needed was to find Hank. Through him, he could obtain the Militia’s advanced class—Kingdom Guard. That was why his first stop in saving the kingdom had been Rosenberg.
Nolan glanced at his remaining experience and allocated it again, raising his Mercenary level to 12. This brought his total level to 27, officially stepping into the threshold of the Silver tier.
After all that, he still had a little over ten thousand experience left. He chose not to spend it. Instead, he held some in reserve, a somewhat unconventional trick players had once discovered.
In this now-real world, defeating enemies only yielded the loot they actually carried, and supplies like holy water had become genuinely scarce. If he found himself in danger, he could level up on the spot to instantly recover 50% of his maximum health. This “level-up heal,” combined with Unyielding’s ability to lock his health, formed a perfect emergency survival combo. Of course, Nolan doubted it would restore severed limbs.
Upgrades complete.
He rose to his feet, stretching his body and feeling the explosive growth of power within him, his heart filled with emotion. Back then, the first player in the world to reach the Silver tier had taken a full four months. He had done it in four days.
***
Stepping out of his temporary barracks, he found the morning sunlight already bathing the entire garrison. Something about the guard unit felt different. At this hour, most would usually be sleeping in or idling in the mess hall, with only a few on patrol. Now, however, the training grounds were alive with energy.
“Ha!”
“Hah!”
The soldiers roared as they hacked at the training dummies with all their strength, sweat soaking through their clothes. Many were still wrapped in bandages, yet the laziness and half-heartedness that once lingered in their eyes had vanished, replaced by a hardened resolve forged through blood and fire. A brutal victory had remade this local guard unit.
When they saw Nolan, they stopped what they were doing and looked at him with admiration. In private, they had already given him the nickname “Bane of the Undead.”
“Adjutant Nolan!”
“Morning, sir!”
Greetings rang out one after another, sincere and full of respect. Nolan’s prestige within the guard had reached its peak, rivaling even that of their long-serving captain, Hank.
He nodded in acknowledgment, crossed the training grounds, and made his way to the command room. Pushing the door open, he saw Hank seated before a large sand table, arranging the next phase of defensive and patrol operations. Klose and Little Donnie were there as well.
Klose’s injuries were not light; he had seven sword wounds alone. Still, coming from a wealthy family and using the finest medicine, he was recovering well enough. Little Donnie, on the other hand, looked far worse. After forcing his way through the Deathly Miasma, he was now wrapped in bandages like a mummy, with only his eyes and mouth exposed.
Hank merely glanced up and nodded when Nolan entered, but Klose and Little Donnie snapped to attention and gave him a crisp military salute. The formality made Nolan slightly uncomfortable. “Alright, alright, we’re all on the same side. Cut it out.” He waved them off, greeted the three, then took out the Darkpiercer and handed it to Klose. “Your sword helped a lot.”
This once somewhat arrogant young noble had earned his recognition through action. Klose looked at the sword but made no move to take it. He shook his head, wearing a dismissive expression. “Adjutant Nolan, what kind of noble takes back a gift once it’s given? I’d be a laughingstock. Besides, I’ve got plenty like this at home. Take it as proof that I’ve left the past behind. You look pretty broke anyway, so keep it.”
Nolan smiled. It was still the year 270 of the Continental Calendar; even a faintly enchanted weapon was hard to come by, let alone one that was clearly a family heirloom. But he did not call him out on it and simply kept the sword.
Beside them, Little Donnie blinked and spoke cheerfully. “Adjutant, it’s only been one night… but somehow you look even better than yesterday.”
At that, Hank and Klose both turned to look more closely. Only then did they notice that Nolan’s steps were steadier and more powerful than before, and the muscles on his exposed arms seemed more explosive. Just standing there, he carried a presence comparable to Hank’s.
Nolan had no intention of hiding it. He grinned. “Yeah, after yesterday’s bloody fight, I picked up a few insights. I might’ve pushed too hard in battle and… accidentally broke through.”
Silence fell over the room. Though all three had suspected something, hearing it confirmed still left them stunned.
An epiphany on the battlefield? Something that existed only in the tales of bards had actually happened?
“Holy—!” Little Donnie was the first to recover, so excited he nearly jumped. “Sir! That’s insane! Come on, tell me, what’s the trick?”
The moment he finished— Smack! A large hand like a fan slapped the back of his head.
Hank, a cigar clenched between his teeth, shot him an annoyed glare. “Strength comes from relentless daily training and proper reflection after every battle. What have I been teaching you all this time? You keep looking for shortcuts. At this rate, you’ll never become a proper soldier.”
Rubbing his head, Little Donnie chuckled sheepishly, unbothered.
After scolding the younger one, Hank turned to Klose. “You two carry out what I just assigned.” He waved them off. “Go on. I’ve got something to discuss with Nolan alone.”
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