Virgil slumps against the fortress wall as the undead retreat.
He wants to close his eyes and sleep, but the pain running through his body won't let him.
He tells himself this can't continue—if he fights again tomorrow, he will die.
He hears the inspector shouting, calling the injured to get healed.
With a groan, he straightens up and walks toward the inspector in line.
His turn comes, and he stands before the inspector.
The inspector tears the talisman, and silver light falls on Virgil's body.
His fresh wounds remain, but black air leaks from them.
The talisman isn't for healing—it drives out the dead air left by the undead.
That air causes infection, and once someone dies with it inside, they turn into one of them.
Afterwards, Virgil enters the nurse's station, Afterwards, Virgil enters the nurse's station, where a nurse silently bandages him.
As always, he steps into the bathroom, washes, and then heads to the mess hall for food.
He walks to his dorm room, avoids speaking to anyone, and drops onto his bed with closed eyes.
This has been his daily routine for the past five years.
He doesn't know how he's survived since age fifteen, when he was sent to Glnax Fortress.
Glnax is one of the strongholds guarding the western border of the human race.
He was sent there because of his family and the rules of the land.
Every twenty-five years, a family must send one adult male to fight in the endless war.
Even though his parents had three sons, they chose him.
They said his older brother was married with a baby coming, and the younger had just turned fourteen—the legal age of adulthood.
So at fifteen, just one year older, he was sent to war.
He sometimes wonders why his parents chose him; it may be because he never connected with them and always stayed distant.
He couldn't connect because he was born with memories of a past life.
An adult soul in a baby's body, he never acted like a child.
That same memory is also what kept him alive these past five years.
It helped him learn to wield weapons quickly and avoid the blind charge for glory most recruits fell into.
He always stayed behind, never pushing forward without purpose.
He closes his eyes, and in his mind appears a broken tower.
This tower—called the simulation tower—simulates his future self based on his current state.
Right now, it's simulating his training in drawing the lesser healing talisman.
The simulation consumes his physical energy as it runs.
He began this training two years ago.
At that time, the tower told him that with full dedication, it would take five years to master the talisman in a single attempt.
He started because he didn't want to keep fighting on the front lines.
There are only two ways to stop fighting in this war.
The first is to become a lesser talisman painter, weapon maker, formation master, or potion refiner.
The second is to fight for ten years—then you're allowed to leave.
But only about five per cent ever make it home.
The rest stay buried here.
Among the four professions, he chose the talisman painter because the simulation tower showed he would master it faster than the others.
So he committed to it.
After consuming his physical energy daily for two years, he has reached 99.06% mastery of the lesser healing talisman.
Without using his physical energy, it would have taken five years.
He closes his eyes and commands the tower to absorb his strength.
The simulation starts running at high speed—99.24%, 99.28%, 99.317%, 99.39%, 99.45%, and finally 99.57%.
It stops there.
He knows he will master it by tomorrow, but he cannot wait that long.
With his injuries, he's not sure he can survive another day.
He quickly gets up and, as usual, returns to the mess hall.
He eats a second plate of food.
The only benefit of serving in this war is unlimited meals.
He eats twice a day—once to feed the simulation tower and once for himself.
He always limits the tower to an hour because more than that causes headaches.
Entering battle with a headache is a death sentence.
Usually, after his second dinner, he returns to his tent and sleeps.
But tonight, he pulls out a tray from beneath his bed.
On it lie a feather pen, ink, and stacks of talisman paper.
He takes out a hundred sheets and begins drawing the lesser healing rune.
With each attempt, his mastery rises.
And so does the percentage.
Finally, it reaches 100%.
He immediately gets up and walks toward the Talisman Association.
A few minutes later, he steps inside the Talisman Association building.
At the reception desk, a woman sits, straight-backed and alert.
She says, "Good evening, sir, what can I do for you?"
Virgil replies, "Can I take the test for lesser talisman painter?"
She studies him from head to toe—he doesn't look like a talisman painter.
Still, she nods and says, "Yes, you can."
Virgil asks, "Can I take it now?"
She nods again and says, "Yes, and this is your first time taking the test?"
Virgil replies, "Yes," and hands over his identification card.
The woman checks and says, "Yes, it is your first time, so you don't have to pay."
She returns his card with a smile.
"You can wait there," she says, pointing to the chairs across the room.
"I'll inform you when someone is available to take your test."
Virgil asks, "How long will it take?"
The woman answers, "Not long—many intermediate talisman painters are here, and when one becomes free to take your test, I will inform you."
Virgil nods and walks over to take his seat.
He closes his eyes, using the moment to recover his energy.
Today is his chance to change his destiny.
If he fails, he can take the test again—but it will cost money.
That would ruin his plan.
And worse, he might die before getting another chance.
He must pass today and receive the spiritual path training method.
In this world, humans cultivate through two paths—the spiritual way and the knight's way.
The spiritual way supports the four professions: talisman, potion, formation, and forging.
The knight's way is for those with extraordinary blood.
Virgil has traces of extraordinary blood, but each type is only about 1%.
Like most humans, that's far below the minimum.
To follow the knight's way, one needs at least 10% of a single bloodline.
So for him, the only path is the spiritual way.
He decided this the moment he learned of its existence.
In his past life, he was ordinary—and he refuses to die that way again.
He opens his eyes when he hears his name called.
He sees three well-dressed youths his age, all wearing the howling wolf badge.
Mike frowns and says, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you resting in your tent? Looking for an excuse to skip the battle tomorrow?"
Before Virgil can respond, the receptionist calls out, "Mr. Virgil, your test is in room number seven, on the second floor."
Without saying a word to the three, Virgil walks past them and heads for the stairs.
Mike watches him go and says, "Did I hear that right? Did the receptionist mention a test?"
Bast nods and says, "You heard it right."
Janus mutters, "If he passes the test, it's going to be bad for our Howling Wolf gang."
"He's already given us a bad name by staying alive after rejecting our invitation two weeks ago."
Bast adds, "And if he passes, you'll have to pay him compensation."
"We can't afford to make an enemy out of a talisman painter, even if he's just an inferior one."
Mike clenches his jaw and says, "Let's inform the boss and let him decide."
He turns to leave, but Bast grabs his arm.
"First, let's see if he passes the test."
"If he doesn't, he'll die tomorrow or in a few days from his injuries anyway."
They all nod and sit down, waiting for Virgil to come back down.
Virgil walks the corridor of the second floor, his thoughts drifting to Mike and the Howling Wolf gang.
Where there are people, there are factions—and the fortress that guards humanity is no exception.
Everyone now knows the undead aren't trying to destroy the human race.
The war has lasted over a thousand years, with no sign of ending.
By now, humans understand the undead's goal—to train their army and grow their numbers.
When humans die, the undead turn their corpses into skeletons or zombies, adding to their ranks.
But humans gain something in return—soul sand and soul stones.
These are precious spiritual resources left behind by purified undead.
So even if humanity wanted to end the war, they couldn't.
The undead control 15% of the Golcord Plane, while humans hold less than 2%.
The war is unending, and inside the fortress, people form factions to survive and compete for resources.
One such faction is the Howling Wolf gang, founded two years ago by an Earth-rank knight with Sound Wolf blood.
Virgil was invited to join them two weeks ago.
They even promised him the Sound Wolf blood potion if he survived a year.
But he was close to becoming a talisman painter—so he declined.
If the offer had come a year earlier, he might've accepted.
Because of his refusal, he became a target.
A member of the gang became the sergeant of his squad, and for the past two weeks, he hasn't been given a single day to recover.
He stops thinking about them—what's done is done.
Now he stands before door number seven, the path to his future.
He raises his hand and knocks.