Pale Sentinel, Alvis

The smell was a mix of rusty blood and the sour stench of decay, even more pungent than moldy cheese.

Though everyone covered their noses and even secretly leaned their heads out of the carriage to breathe fresh air, no one dared complain.

After all, anyone who could end up in such a state from killing monsters commanded a certain degree of awe. No one wanted to provoke them at a time like this.

Lance paid it no mind. Taking advantage of the break, he quietly observed the convoy.

The number of wounded being evacuated this time was somewhat beyond expectations.

There were more than a dozen people crammed into this convoy alone.

Fortunately, the guild physicians traveling with them were administering emergency treatment. Most had only suffered external injuries to their limbs, and none were in mortal danger.

"Why are so many wounded being sent back directly?"

Lance turned his head and asked a young adventurer beside him whose arm was wrapped in thick bandages.

Seeing Lance speak to him, the young man looked flattered and hurriedly explained,

"I heard it was the guild president's order."

"As long as someone suffers obvious external injuries in battle and their combat capability is assessed to have dropped by over thirty percent, they must return to Grayrock Town with the transport convoy for treatment."

As he spoke, a trace of emotion appeared on the young man's face.

"And all treatment costs this time are being covered by the guild."

Lance raised an eyebrow at that.

In his impression, that guild president was such a miser that he wished he could split a copper coin in half before spending it.

Large-scale publicly funded treatment like this was practically as unlikely as the sun rising in the west.

But after giving it some thought, Lance understood the reasoning behind it.

Rather than let injured adventurers stubbornly hold on in the forest, only to end up as names on a compensation list, it was better to spend some money healing them and get them back on the battlefield to create value as soon as possible.

That was the logic of a capitalist's ledger.

But for Lance, it was tremendous news.

Since the guild wanted cost-effectiveness, his improved Hemostatic Ointment—with effects comparable to Troll's Blood but far lower production costs and a more affordable price—would definitely become the first choice on that massive procurement list for external wound medicine.

It cost only around seventy percent as much, yet achieved the hemostatic effects of high-end potions.

That shrewd old man would definitely know what to choose, so long as his brain had not been flooded.

This deal was in the bag.

Thinking of that, Lance's mood improved greatly, and even the stench on his body seemed less unbearable.

After confirming that the convoy had entered a relatively safe stretch of plains, Lance sank his consciousness back into the system and opened the class information that had flashed past earlier.

[Class: Pale Sentinel (Great Deed)]

[Race Restriction: Human]

[Prerequisites:]

[1. Base Attributes: Constitution 12, Spirit 10, Perception 10]

[2. Skill Requirements: Three weapon combat skills at LV5 (Expert), any unarmed combat skill at LV5, any Breath Combat Technique at LV5]

[3. Trial Requirement: On the night of a full moon, engage in high-intensity combat alone against more than 50 monsters for over one hour, and remain in a "guarding" state until dawn or until the protection succeeds]

[4. Great Deed Requirement: Achieve the Great Deed "I Successfully Defied Death" (Achieved)]

Looking at the dense block of text, Lance could not help drawing in a sharp breath.

These requirements were outrageously harsh.

Compared to this, the Swordsman class Damian had dreamed of was practically handing out charity.

Just from the attribute template alone, one could tell that this class was an all-round fighter capable of taking hits and dealing damage, with exceptional survivability and a keen instinct for danger.

Not to mention that five different combat skills all had to be trained to the Expert level.

Even with what amounted to a cheat, Lance had only just touched the threshold of Mastery in swordsmanship after training so hard for so long.

"No wonder it's called a Great Deed Class..."

Lance clicked his tongue inwardly.

For ordinary people, merely meeting all these prerequisites would itself be an almost impossible great deed.

But Lance was not intimidated. Instead, he began calculating its feasibility in his mind.

The skills were not too difficult to deal with.

The Castro Swordsmanship and Levin Archery he currently specialized in already counted as two weapon skills.

He only needed to find a chance to learn a polearm or heavy weapon technique, along with an unarmed combat technique and a breathing method.

With the cheat of unlimited stamina, grinding them to Expert level, LV5, would only be a matter of time.

The real headache was the trial.

Alone, on a full-moon night, for one hour, against more than fifty monsters.

In combat that intense, ordinary people could exhaust themselves to death just from running out of stamina.

And that was without mentioning the requirement to "guard."

Those two words were the most maddening restriction.

It meant he could not kite them while moving around. He had to stay rooted in place like a nail, protecting some target from being torn apart by monsters.

It was forcing the candidate into a direct confrontation.

"Still... it doesn't seem completely impossible."

Lance stroked his chin.

If Hvergelmir's Boiling Surge gave him unlimited endurance, then a battle of attrition like this would actually fall within his advantage.

As long as he could withstand it without being killed instantly, he could keep fighting indefinitely.

Could anyone really qualify for this class?

Lance could not help voicing the question.

He truly did not know who in this world could accomplish such a feat before even taking a class.

"Still... since this class exists, someone must have succeeded in history."

Lance looked at the Great Deed entry, [I Defied Death], and an ancient legend surfaced in his mind.

It was the story of the second Hero, Alvis.

He had neither a powerful physique nor an indestructible blade.

He was merely a frail ordinary man, yet with unparalleled wisdom, he navigated between savage monsters and proud gods.

Yet mortal wisdom could ultimately not escape fate's harvest.

On the day his lifespan came to an end, the shadow of death arrived as promised and brought him to the shore of that gray river separating life from death.

The ferryman extended a withered hand and demanded payment for the crossing: all the memories of Alvis's life.

The aged Alvis looked at the black boat leading toward eternal silence and spoke.

"Great ferryman, I am willing to offer you my soul, but before that, I wish to make a wager with you."

"I wager that there is a road in this world with no end."

"If I can prove its existence to you, then as long as I am still walking that road, you cannot take me away. If I stop or reach its end, my soul will be yours to dispose of."

The ferryman, bored beyond measure through endless eternity, agreed to this wager that seemed utterly foolish to him.

Alvis bent down and used his finger to draw a somewhat uneven circle in the black sand.

He stepped onto it and began walking.

One step, then another, continuing forward along that ring.

When he completed a circle and returned to the starting point, the ferryman raised his scythe and let out a mocking laugh.