Dimensional Space

Duncan had been transported to this world for two days.

As one of the Imperial Untouchables, he had yet to see where the Empire's enemies were, but had already fought the Empire's routed soldiers twice.

The carriage jolted along.

On the carriage beside him, the young man who had taken an arrow to the ass yesterday lay sprawled atop the cargo, groaning miserably. His name was strange—Almagun. Imperial Untouchables had no surnames; having one meant some notable figure had existed among their ancestors.

He was a nobody, but Duncan had learned quite a bit of useful information from him.

As for Almagun's status, he was an untouchable—a lowlife errand-runner and broker who lurked in every shady gray corner, surviving by flattering people, sucking up to them, and helping them find entertainment. Duncan could think of him as this era's pimp, though people like him were indeed well-informed.

The town where he had lived, Buchanan, had been massacred by the rebels. Almagun was one of the few who had escaped alive.

The man was excellent at reading people. The moment Duncan's gaze landed on him, he immediately raised his head. He lay awkwardly over the carriage's cargo, gripping the frame with both hands to keep from being thrown off, while forcing a wrinkled, ingratiating smile onto his face.

When he smiled, he looked somewhat like a younger Captain Jia. In any case, he was ugly and sleazy, with the classic sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked look.

Yesterday, while blood was still spurting from his ass, he had gritted his teeth and crawled up to steal villagers' straw, laying out a resting place for Duncan on the windward side. Then he had crouched beside him like a loyal lackey, sticking up his ass and waiting for orders.

It looked like he had taken Duncan for the thigh to cling to if he wanted to escape alive.

The last person he had sucked up to was a hunter among the refugees, who had taken pity on him and pulled him along while fleeing, only to be shot dead on the spot by a Barbarian hunter.

The moment he saw his companion die, he ran faster than a rabbit.

"This sort can be used, but never trusted."

No one here thought highly of him. Whenever Duncan questioned him for information, he immediately acted flattered beyond measure and eagerly played the role of a lackey.

The morning passed quickly.

The exhausted, weakened state on Duncan gradually faded. Its side effects lasted rather long—around ten hours.

"Do I have to be in combat to enter God's Eye View?"

"Can I do it normally?"

Things were fairly safe right now, so he had the leisure to study his cheat ability. If he could enter God's Eye View at any time, there would be far too many things he could do.

"Exit game?"

Nothing happened.

"System? Switch my view."

Still nothing.

"How about meditation?"

Duncan sat cross-legged and tried to empty his mind. Once his consciousness sank into silence, he entered a void within his mind.

In the projected image before him, a black-haired young man sat quietly, his expression calm as though lost in thought.

It worked.

The last few times, he had entered during battle and had not had time to examine this void carefully. Now that he looked, he seemed to be floating in the stars, with a silent cosmic nebula stretching behind him.

There was nothing around him except a single projected image. He himself had no physical body either, resembling more of an incorporeal spirit.

Under God's Eye View, every living creature nearby was marked. Even the wild rabbits by the roadside had small markers.

—Witch [Neutral Unit] (skull marker).

The caravan guards all had blue markers. Only the captain had a star above his head, marked "Mercenary Sergeant."

"Since this is a game interface, can I exit?" Duncan suddenly had a wild thought.

At the stir of a thought.

The projected image before him immediately began to change.

—"Retire from the world?"

Huh?

He really could exit?

But it did not seem like he was exiting God's Eye View. It was more like another form of "quitting the game."

A line of text slowly emerged.

—"Retire from the world [End Trial]: You will sever your connection with the Human Form and will no longer be able to enter the Material Plane through this Human Form. The Human Form will replicate a personality based on your current character and experiences. He will no longer gain additional ability improvements."

"Dimensional Space will switch to 'Observer Mode.' Your consciousness will temporarily fall asleep until your energy has fully recovered and the next compatible Human Form has been captured."

—"Law of Causality [Trial Settlement]: After the escape ended, you went to a northern city and opened a general store. Since you displayed nothing unusual during the journey that followed, Witch Triss gradually lost interest in you.

You successfully returned to an ordinary life.

One year later, the Barbarians rebelled. The Empire's entire northern border fell, and the city where you lived could not escape disaster. In the flames of war, you lost everything you owned.

To make a comeback, you joined the Imperial army.

Three months later.

The Imperial Field Army you belonged to encountered elite Hun cavalry. The legion collapsed, and though you escaped by luck, you suffered severe injuries. Nearly crippled, you were soon abandoned by the Empire and received not a single coin in compensation.

Before long, you became a beggar.

Without any source of income, your body grew weaker and weaker, while old injuries and illnesses tormented you constantly.

In the end, one year later, you died during a snowy winter."

Fuck!

A beggar ending? Crippled? Dead from illness?

I fought for the Empire! I bled for the Empire!

And this is how it ends?

Once Duncan calmed down, he quickly realized that his transportation had not been the usual kind. The body he controlled was merely a "Human Form." The place he had truly arrived in was this strange Dimensional Space.

If he truly "exited" completely, he would sever his connection to this Human Form.

As for how long he would need to sleep in Observer Mode, that was unclear.

Perhaps he might never awaken again. After all, he was only the soul of an ordinary man. And with such a terrible ending, according to his guess, the trial settlement would likely affect everything he possessed in Dimensional Space.

He could not accept this ending at all!

Even if he could not become a king or conqueror, he should at least become a lord of some region, right? At worst, a noble or wealthy merchant?

A beggar?

Being a beggar was impossible.

He would never be a beggar in this life! Even if he died on the battlefield, riddled with arrows or hacked to death, he would never become a beggar.

A man fought for wealth and glory on the battlefield!

Just do it.

Since this was a descended Human Form, then he would fight until the very last moment!

His consciousness returned.

Duncan regained his first-person perspective. His consciousness had reentered this "Human Form," an Imperial Untouchable who was nineteen this year, whose parents had died and whose relatives had all been slaughtered by Imperial routed soldiers.

This escape was not the end!

His legendary journey had only just begun.

Duncan stretched his limbs, picked up the Northern War Bow, and aimed at a crow perched on a roadside branch. There should be corpses nearby, which was why carrion-eaters like crows had gathered.

He had traded loot taken from Barbarian routed soldiers to the caravan guards for this Northern War Bow, along with a spare bowstring. Though his cheat ability was God's Eye View on a game interface, real combat still followed the most basic laws of physics.

Blades dulled, strings snapped, equipment wore out, and injuries could cripple people.

Everyone had only one life.

Face life head-on.

There was no other choice.

"The bruise on my face is still there."

Duncan touched the bruise on the side of his face. It was slightly swollen. That heavy punch from the Gloomy Knight's armored fist might have struck the temple, killing this Human Form's original owner outright. After his consciousness entered the Human Form, the injury on his cheek still had not fully healed. Even a minor injury had knocked off a small portion of his health bar, and after nearly two days, it still had not fully recovered.

"Don't get injured."

"My body can't withstand much damage either. One mistake could cripple me!"

"After all, this world is real. I'm not actually playing a game."

Duncan aimed at the crow on the roadside branch for a while, then lowered the Northern War Bow in his hand, seemingly deep in thought.

"Without God's Eye View."

"My archery is about the same as an ordinary archer's. It's basically impossible for me to perform beyond my limits."

"In other words."

"From the first-person perspective, my melee strength is roughly equal to an Imperial Infantryman, while my archery is close to a Barbarian Forest Hunter's. In game terms, a Barbarian Forest Hunter is an archer unit slightly above average in strength."

Only under God's Eye View could he exceed his limits, applying his gaming skills from his previous life directly to reality and achieving astonishing results.

"The most important thing right now is improving my strength."

"In troubled times, human lives are worth less than dogs."

"Since I can seize my enemies' abilities, my growth should be very fast."

After three battles, he was already equivalent to a seasoned veteran.

What Duncan feared most at the moment was this world's supernatural power. Though it seemed to be a low-magic world overall, there was a Witch with a skull marker in the caravan, while the Barbarian leader he had encountered could enter Berserk mode and charge straight through a hail of arrows toward him.

Duncan had seen it clearly at the time. The man's lung had been pierced through, yet he had still forced himself to charge another thirty meters.

"Other than that mysterious Witch."

"Everyone I've encountered so far has been a fragile ordinary person. The Barbarian leader was a little harder to kill, but he could still be killed."

He himself was also a fragile ordinary person.

The punch he had taken to the face would not heal in less than a week.

"In this situation, it's easy for me to kill others, and easy for others to kill me."

A burst of commotion came from the front of the caravan.

A guard rode over, leaned close to Duncan, lowered his head slightly, and said respectfully, "The road ahead is blocked by a fallen tree."

"There are corpses nearby."

Duncan rose and leaped down from the carriage. Without entering combat mode, he could smell a faint stench of rot from far away. There were more than ten corpses nearby, some of them already pecked beyond recognition by crows.

"It was probably done by routed soldiers," the calm, experienced guard captain said as he halted on horseback.

Duncan surveyed the surroundings and said in a low voice, "Clear it out. We need to get moving quickly."

He crouched beside one corpse and found gnaw marks, likely left by some large animal. Yet judging by the bite marks, they also seemed somewhat like the shape of human teeth.

These people had not been dead for long, yet their corpses were badly decomposed, as if something had accelerated the process.

"Something's wrong!"

The caravan found a way to move the tree aside. After being delayed for half an hour, they set off again.

It was not until they had traveled over ten li that Duncan relaxed slightly.

After crossing a mountain, the guard captain ordered a short rest, while he himself took two riders to scout the surrounding area. Most of the caravan's animals were mules and horses. Only several elite guards rode traveling horses, which could barely be considered decent mounts.

The Empire lacked horses. Ordinary people simply could not get their hands on real warhorses.

"What are you doing?" a gentle female voice asked.

Duncan looked up and saw a pair of azure eyes, along with a proud figure that the dirty gray robe could not conceal. She clearly had such exquisite curves, yet the others nearby seemed blind to them. That was somewhat contrary to men's nature.

It was that Witch!

Duncan had not found a chance to strike up a conversation with her, yet she had brought a clay pot filled with water over to him.

"Thank you." Duncan naturally reached out and accepted it.

Seeing the curiosity in her eyes, he set down a small piece of parchment and said calmly, "Counting heads."

He had killed three in the village.

He had killed five when he encountered the caravan.

During last night's attack by the Barbarian routed soldiers, he had killed around seven.

Fifteen heads in total.

He did not know how many he would have to kill before he could truly adapt to this world.

But now, he would never hesitate when killing someone.

For a moment, the Witch had nothing to say. She could only give him a deep look.

"Are you from Bran Village?" the Witch asked tentatively.

At her words, Duncan narrowed his eyes slightly. The original owner's village had been tiny, with only a few dozen people. Yet she actually knew about it.

He nodded expressionlessly. "Yes."

The Witch hesitated slightly. "What about the others in the village?"

Duncan's voice was hoarse. "They're all dead."

"Routed soldiers massacred the village."

"I'm the only one who survived."

There was a trace of apology in the Witch's gaze. After softly apologizing, she turned and left.

Duncan watched her retreating figure, then began searching through the original owner's memories. Within one faint and unremarkable memory, he found a clue.

When he was young, an old hunter in the village had once mentioned that beyond the mountains, in the deepest part of the dense forest, there was supposedly a treehouse inhabited by a Forest Fairy. She had once treated an injured, lost hunter and sent him out of that primeval forest.

If the Forest Fairy from the tale was the Witch before him, then she should have lived for over a hundred years.

The original owner had never believed such things. He had considered it a story the village elders used to fool children.

"If she really is the legendary Forest Witch?"

"Then why did she leave?"

"Surely she wasn't fleeing the war?"

Duncan did not know how strong the Witch was, but according to rumors in the Empire, some young and beautiful girls had been burned to death after being accused of being witches.

The Witch Hunt.

It had existed within the Empire for nearly several decades.

There had even been an emperor in the Empire's history who was rumored to have been poisoned to death by a Witch.

"Witches."

"Powerful individuals possessing supernatural powers."

"But they can still be killed."

By Duncan's estimation, although the Witch possessed some strange supernatural powers, she should not have been powerful enough to transcend humanity. Otherwise, the Church would not have been able to hunt her down.

"Enter combat mode!"

Suddenly, Duncan's consciousness slipped into the void. The next second, he saw two blue markers appear at the edge of God's Eye View.

Several scattered red markers followed.

—Pamitia Rangers.

After fleeing for two days, Duncan had finally encountered the Empire's enemies. Judging by their attire, they seemed somewhat like a semi-nomadic people.