Act One: The Dream Person

Act I: The Dreamer

"Warning: excessive blood loss, life in critical condition—"

"Warning: cardiopulmonary function declining, life in critical condition—"

When Su Fei woke, the high-pitched warning tones from that brutal battle seemed to still echo in his mind. The sound was like a file scraping against his brain, leaving him with a splitting headache.

Right, he remembered being in the game, defending the mountains of Orkash alongside his comrades from Divine Might against the Undead Army of Madara. A cold wind howled through the lead-gray sky, and countless dark creatures poured down from the dagger-sharp peaks, endless as a black tide. Tens of thousands of skeletons, Liches hidden within the Sea of Bones, and bone dragons and cold Ghosts circling in the sky...

Besieged from all sides, they were doomed.

His first reaction was to curse inwardly. Those bastards from Thornfire—incompetent and dragging their allies down with them. To let the enemy flank them like that was absolutely goddamn outrageous!

Only then did he have the presence of mind to check his status. It was a pleasant surprise that he hadn't died yet; one had to know that Madara's army never left survivors. However, he immediately frowned. This injury was far too ridiculous—not only a fatal wound to his vitals, but he had also been afflicted with Corpse Poison.

Wait, Corpse Poison?

Hadn't he already completed the quest for the Perfect Body? How could a body of the Silver Race be eroded by such low-level dark magic? A bug? What the hell were the developers doing?

He didn't have much time to question this. The young man coughed weakly and struggled to sit up from the dusty floor. He realized that the dark erosion was a minor issue; finding a priest to dispel it would suffice. But if he didn't stop the bleeding quickly in his current state, he would likely die of weakness. Though not a top-tier player, he was at least a veteran, and a quick check was enough to grasp his situation.

Su Fei groaned and casually pushed aside the half-remnant of a Skeleton Frame that was pinning him down. To him, these low-level Madara soldiers were as insignificant as air. Come to think of it, it was already the Year 44 of the Second Era; for Madara to still be raising these low-level cannon fodder was a complete waste of soul energy. It seemed the brains of those necromancer-sequence mages under Okato had been completely corroded by negative energy—not a flexible one among them.

He still had the energy to complain, but he immediately noticed that even pushing this skeleton felt difficult. The penalties of the weakened state were no joke; normally, he could have easily shoved aside a bone dragon.

When was the last time Su Fei had fallen into a near-death weakened state? Nearly a few months ago. The combat prowess of Divine Might wasn't just talk. If not for those incompetent fools from Thornfire, his survival record would likely have remained intact.

At the thought, the young man couldn't help but feel gloomy again. The Sanctuary forces had been utterly defeated; the forums were likely in an uproar right now.

While pondering these trivial matters, he reached back to touch his backpack—but grabbed nothing. Su Fei paused, then immediately began to curse.

"Those Madara bandits!"

Cursing aside, he still had to find a way to stop the bleeding. A healing potion would be best, but bandages would suffice. These items shouldn't be scarce on a battlefield; generally, no one bothered with the backpacks of cannon fodder, which were full of potions and bandages. Especially bandages—before the battle started, he had even seen a rookie carrying a bag full of them.

What a joke. Did they think carrying more bandages would keep them from dying?

He subconsciously prepared to climb up, but as he rolled over, he froze. Wait, was this still the mountains of Orkash?

He should have seen this scene: desolate grass, jagged White Rock scattered across the steep slopes, corpses littering the field, ravens flying over the silent battlefield, and the tattered Great Cross of Light Flag of Grace fluttering on the hilltop. Yet, the scene he imagined did not reappear before the young man's eyes—

There was no north wind screaming through the Orkash mountains all night, no silent stillness like Ghosts walking through the shadows of the peaks, and he couldn't even feel the bone-chilling cold that could freeze the air into dry powder.

It was all like a hallucination. When the illusion shattered, he realized he was lying on the floor of a quiet, dilapidated old house. The floor was made of smooth wooden planks nailed together, with a striking, fresh pool of blood on it...

He couldn't help but stare, subconsciously reaching for his chest. A sharp pain interrupted his movement, and the young man hissed, baring his teeth. The wound was his, and this blood was his...

But where was this? He felt vaguely familiar with the style of the house. The main hall was on the first floor, and the corridor on the second floor led to various rooms; the guest rooms, kitchen, and storage were on the lower level. Right, this was the architectural style of southern Eluin, and not a room an ordinary commoner could afford—though it was old, the original owner must have had some status.

Southern Eluin. Su Fei couldn't help but feel dazed.

How long ago was that memory? The mountains of Yusong, the sound of bagpipes in the border town of Buchi—it was as melodic as a dream from the past. But wasn't that Madara territory now? In his memory, Eluin had long since fallen—yes, during the Third Black Rose War.

"How could I be here!"

"Wait..."

"Buchi... Buchi." Su Fei repeated the name.

Right, he remembered.

His name was Brando, born in Brags. He had one-half Cardilego blood, inherited from his Mother, but he didn't seem noble because of this aristocratic lineage. His father was merely a commoner. Although his grandfather had participated in the November War and received a Candlelight Medal, they were, in the end, just a knightly family with a faded past.

No!

A sudden sense of alarm gripped Su Fei. What was all this nonsense? No, no, he was Su Fei, a citizen of the People's Republic of China.

But a voice in his mind immediately told him—

"You are Su Fei, and you are also Brando."

A cold, chilling fear crawled up Su Fei's spine. He held his breath, suddenly realizing that something had been added to his memories. It was the memory of that young man named Brando, surging into his thoughts like a tide, or rather, an uninvited stranger barging in.

Su Fei's breathing quickened, his pupils dilating. He immediately remembered that desperate, heart-stopping sword strike, and those terrifying, bone-white skeletons.

He struggled to shake off the horrific scene, but as the memories filled in, he became exhausted. His brain throbbed, and his forehead was drenched in sweat.

Ha, he suddenly remembered how he had arrived here—it was indeed a great battle, a fierce fight between the Church Knight Kingdom of Grace and Madara. Besieged and cornered, he remembered his character dying at the hands of a Lich.

After the brilliant green light of the Disintegrate Ray, the world had returned to darkness...

That was the game's setting; death was supposed to last twelve hours. But could anyone explain to him why a normal death in the game had led him here?

This world—

His mind was in chaos. If there was one word to describe the only thought behind his messy train of thought, it was—absurd.

Absurd!

He already understood what kind of absurd thing had happened to him. He had transmigrated!

His soul had transmigrated into this world, into the body of a dead man named Brando!

No, it should be said that they had merged into one.

Su Fei gripped the floor tightly, his knuckles turning numb. He looked at his hands—they were slender, the skin pale with a sickly pallor. Although he had been mentally prepared, he couldn't help but be startled. He was a citizen of the People's Republic of China, Han ethnicity, belonging to the Mongoloid race; his skin should have been a healthy light yellow. Even if his game character had been adjusted, it shouldn't look like this.

His heart pounded, and he felt lost. He could be said to possess all the memories of this body's original owner during his short nineteen years of life, but in another sense, he knew nothing of what he was facing.

Perhaps, soul-wise, he could feel all the thoughts of the young man named Brando—

His ideals, his obsessions; what he loved, what he hated.

It was like walking through a nineteen-year journey of the heart after a rebirth. The other person's everything was his everything, as if they had been one from the start, yet having two long dreams intertwined was still disconcerting.

"I am Su Fei."

"But I am also Brando."

A sense of powerlessness welled up from the deepest part of Su Fei's heart, spreading throughout his entire body in an instant. He finally let out a long breath and slowly calmed down.

Forget it, what's done is done.

Su Fei couldn't help but shake his head and look at his hands again: "But with this little bit of strength, you have the nerve to call yourself the best at swordsmanship..." He thought of Brando and couldn't help but laugh at himself, yet unexpectedly felt a hint of relief. It was fine; he had no attachments left in that world anyway.

However, a flash of lightning pierced the darkness. Su Fei suddenly felt that this might be another chance given to him by the heavens. Once ignited, this thought spread uncontrollably in his heart.

Because he remembered one more thing—

There was no mistake, Eluin. It was a country that had already fallen in the game, and the Year of Flowers and Summer Leaves in Brando's memory was the Year 375 of the First Era, while the history in the game had already been written to: the Year 44 of the Second Era! Like someone who suddenly discovered they had become a prophet, a terrifying shiver swept through Su Fei's entire body.

Yes.

Here, no one was more familiar with everything happening and about to happen in this world than he was.

He had lived a mediocre life in his previous existence, hiding in the game to escape reality. What would he do in this life to be worthy of his second chance?

Su Fei couldn't help but feel dazed.

This was the Year of Flowers and Summer Leaves, the year the First Black Rose War began. In this war, Eluin suffered a crushing defeat, but it also set them on the path to revival.

He happened to be a personal witness to this war. He remembered that it was the first time he had come into contact with the game world, and the first country he chose happened to be Eluin. He had been a complete novice, and it was in such a war that he had grown.

The war began with the one-sided collapse of Eluin, and it wasn't until the Buggs Mountain Legion arrived that the situation gradually improved. Su Fei had a deep memory of that brutal war; he had once acted alongside the Local Guard, yet fewer than one in ten survived.

He was just an ordinary person, both in his previous life and this one. What was Brando's swordsmanship worth? The surprise attack by Madara at the beginning of this war was as classic as a textbook—swift, ruthless, and silent. By the time this ancient kingdom reacted, the garrison in this area had already suffered a catastrophic blow.

It was this very day that Brando must have encountered the scouts of the Madara army. Su Fei suddenly felt a chill rise up his spine. Only by surviving could he realize his ambitions.

He understood that he had to save himself. First, he needed to find supplies to stop the bleeding. The young man grabbed the railing on the open side of the corridor and struggled to stand. Then he saw the layout of the house, just as he had imagined. The architectural style of southern Eluin was so familiar to him—because he had spent some of his most unforgettable times here.

"Eluin, I've returned—" Su Fei couldn't help but whisper softly.