Gordon was the martial instructor under Luskan's Third Legion. Whether fortunate or unfortunate, he had been selected by Guild Leader Aklam as one of the personnel for this special operation.
This was already his fourth "death."
Ridiculously, his first time had not been beneath the endless Imperial army, nor had he died under the demons' assault. He had nearly been buried beneath a wolf's jaws, seemingly butchered by his own people.
The moment he awoke in the temple, he felt an inexplicable resentment. He had even wanted to go pick a fight with those bastard cultists, but after considering the Guild Leader's attitude toward them, he swallowed it.
What followed was even more awkward. They had originally been cutting through everything like a hot knife through butter under the Guild Leader's lead, but after "reviving" and preparing to head to the front lines to join the majority, they found themselves repeatedly buried alive beneath that seemingly endless army.
From the despair and terror of the first time, to the dazed muddle of the second, then instinctive struggling, and finally the numbness of now.
Numbness did not mean he was no longer afraid of death. No matter how many times he died, the cold and searing pain before death, the agony and suffocation, the despair and refusal—all of it remained so vivid and terrifying.
These repeated deaths had swiftly washed away the joy he had once felt at "becoming stronger."
Yes, this paladin's body was incredibly powerful. It made him, a level sixteen warrior still hovering at the threshold of Martial Master, suspect that his Combat Strength had at one point surpassed the legendary realm he had never dared dream of reaching in his entire life. At the beginning, when he charged into battle on the far side of the coast,