Chapter 6: I Pumped All My Points Into Strength Because I Was Afraid My Damage Output Wouldn't Be Enough

When Sophie returned to the Lord’s Manor after mailing the letter, she found the maids bustling about. In the spacious courtyard, seven or eight guards stood in a line while a middle-aged man, who appeared to be the captain, was speaking to them.

The young nun lingered for a moment, but several gazes turned toward her, prompting her to quicken her pace and leave.

Back in the guest room, Mother Superior Alaina was waiting for her.

"Was the letter sent?"

"Yes, it was!"

Sophie grew excited at the mention of it. "A church messenger happened to be waiting at the monastery. He took the letter and flew off immediately. He vanished in an instant—he was so fast! I never realized that when Winged Folk spread their wings, they were that large—"

Watching Sophie, who was trying to stretch her arms as wide as possible to demonstrate, Alaina couldn't help but smile. She then said, "The Saintess’s reply won’t arrive for at least three or four days. Does Sophie want to stay here and wait, or would you prefer to leave with me and attend to some matters?"

"...Ah? What matters?"

Alaina explained briefly. Recalling Eric’s so-called prophecy, she added, "Even if you come along, you won’t need to participate in combat; it will just be a chance to broaden your horizons."

Since leaving the Holy Capital, Sophie had never considered being separated from her, so she naturally agreed to go along.

"Then pack your things and prepare to depart."

Sophie returned to her room and gathered her meager belongings and clothing. Just as she finished, she spotted several guards walking through the courtyard below her window. Leading them was the young master of the Lord’s Manor.

Eric’s destination was the manor’s armory.

Though it was called an armory, it mainly housed the swords and armor used by the guards. However, the quality was quite high, as they were all the work of master dwarven craftsmen within the city.

At his uncle’s request, Eric had come to select a set of equipment for himself.

First was the weapon.

The sword he had worn during the morning ceremony was an heirloom from his father. Although it was light and sharp, it was out of the question to use it to hack at the undead, so he had already returned it to its display stand.

"How about this one?" Captain Leslie picked up a well-maintained longsword from the rack. "It was only delivered to the manor last month, the latest work of a dwarven master smith."

Eric took it, gave it a few practice swings, and handed it back. "It’s a bit long. I don’t think I’d have much room to maneuver in the mine tunnels. Let’s trade it for something shorter. You all should do the same."

"Too long? Then try this one."

Leslie walked a few steps over, picked up another sword, and handed it to him.

[Ouri Standard Sword]
"A standard straight sword with a clean, straight blade. Relatively short in length with excellent balance. A fine piece forged by dwarves; lightweight, sharp, and easy to handle. The craftsmanship is imbued with the gratitude of the city’s dwarves."

Eric swung it twice. The familiar weight and feel meant he could use it without the slightest hesitation, as this was the very weapon he used for his daily sword training.

"This one will do."

At the captain’s order, the guards who had accompanied him also swapped their gear for these maneuverable standard straight swords.

Afterward, Eric chose a suit of chainmail that was lightweight yet offered decent protection. It was a bit dirty, but the captain promised to have it cleaned for him later.

With his weapons and armor selected, it wasn't yet time to don them. Before departing, Eric made one last trip to his sister’s room.

Irene was dazed every day and rarely had periods of clarity, but when he arrived, she already seemed to know he was going away.

Eric sat at the edge of the bed. His sister leaned in, and he lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers.

"This state of yours will not continue. Irene will be clear-headed from now on."

Regarding their father’s final wishes, his uncle hadn't yet given a definitive answer, but Eric figured that once he returned, things would be settled. By then, he would send Irene to the Magic Academy.

Looking into her twin brother’s matching azure eyes, Irene’s gaze shifted, and a smile appeared on her weary face. Although she didn't fully understand what was happening, she had always trusted him implicitly.

After bidding farewell to his sister, it was time to depart.

The two envoys from the Holy Capital boarded a carriage, while the detachment of guards sent by the Lord’s Manor—Eric included—traveled on horseback.

Lord Edgar saw the force off, using rewards to motivate the guards and courage to encourage his nephew, though everyone knew he wished he could go himself.

"Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s move out."

The party set off in a long column, leaving the manor at a steady pace. They passed through the streets of Ouri and, as the sun began to sink toward the west, exited the southern gate and entered the wilderness.

The terrain began to show more undulations. On either side of the barely-leveled road, wild grass grew increasingly dense, and small, scattered woods appeared everywhere, severely limiting their field of vision with these unsettling features.

Eric rode his horse, looking around.

Out in the wilderness with no one in sight—truly medieval...

He had lived here for sixteen years and certainly wasn't leaving the city for the first time, but every time he did, the scene before him felt different from his memories. The wilderness always seemed to be growing with a sense of danger.

"Once we’re out of the city, we must be careful after nightfall. The wilds hold more than just beasts and bandits; there are some unclean things as well."

Captain Leslie rode alongside Eric. "However, if we keep this pace, we should reach Valais just as it gets dark."

Eric nodded. They were at the rear of the column; ahead of them were the carriage carrying the two envoys and the supply wagons, and further ahead were the scouts. The rough trails made it impossible to move quickly.

"With so many of us, even bandits shouldn't dare to provoke us."

"The young master is right, but I fear those who don't know any better... especially those foreign refugees."

Passing through a dark patch of woods, the horizon opened up again.

Eric felt Leslie relax slightly. Then, he saw a small hand reach out from the carriage ahead, resting on the window frame, before half a head popped out to look around.

"..."

Their gazes met, and Sophie quickly pulled back.

However, the image of the golden-haired young man on horseback was etched into her mind, making her want to take another look. She told herself she just wanted to see something pleasant, like catching a breath of air after being cooped up in the woods for so long.

But if she were misunderstood, it would be troublesome: she had already dedicated herself to the gods—at least for these few years.

Sophie struggled with her thoughts while watching the scenery pass by. It took her a while to realize she wasn't the only one in the carriage.

"...We’re still in the wilderness," she said to the Mother Superior who was watching her.

"Yes."

Alaina sat opposite her, serene as a mountain, seemingly unaware of her wandering thoughts. "The captain said we wouldn't reach Valais until nightfall. Looking at the sky, there’s still quite a while to go."

"Indeed... I’m glad they came with us. If it were just us, walking through this wilderness would be quite frightening."

Coming from the Holy Capital, they had traveled along main roads the entire way; they had never traversed such wild, desolate paths. But there was no help for it; this was the most direct and primary route to Valais.

Alaina just smiled, then pulled back the carriage curtain to look outside for a moment.

"Is there a problem, Mother Superior Alaina?" Eric rode up beside them.

"Nothing at all." Despite traveling together, Alaina did not wish to engage with him too much. "Just looking around."

Eric didn't say anything, nodded, flicked his reins, and guided his horse back to the front.

"...What is he doing?" his voice drifted back from ahead.

What was he doing?

Sophie was curious too. She poked her head out again, but couldn't see, so she moved to the opposite window, completely failing to notice the Mother Superior beside her shaking her head.

Eric was following another supply wagon, watching the movements of a guard on the cart.

What on earth were they doing?

With her view blocked, Sophie couldn't see and could only keep leaning further out.

"You’ll fall out if you lean any further," Alaina cautioned, pulling her back.

"...Mother Superior." Sophie pulled back, embarrassed.

"If you want to see, look from here." Alaina, unable to help herself, pointed to the small window at the front of the carriage.

"...May I?"

"Go ahead. There’s still plenty of time on the road, and I know it must be boring."

Alaina didn't speak too directly; Sophie was, after all, different from her.

Entering the monastery was merely a unique experience worth reflecting on in this young noblewoman’s future life—sending daughters to monasteries for a few years before bringing them back to marry was a popular trend among nobles—she still had the right to pursue worldly happiness.

"Mm-hmm, I’m just a little curious," Sophie explained.

"Mmhmm." Alaina wasn't curious; she knew everything and was willing to pretend she didn't.

The young nun opened the small window at the front of the carriage. The driver glanced back, and she quickly whispered that it was nothing, she was just looking.

On the wagon ahead, a guard was using a wooden stick to stir something in a crate.

Because of the angle, Sophie still couldn't see, but Eric, riding alongside, could see clearly: he was stirring a crate of fine sand.

The dense yellow sand shifted continuously, occasionally revealing a corner of the chainmail buried within. According to the guard, this was how they cleaned it.

Chainmail was made of interlocking iron rings and was particularly sensitive to moisture, so this was the only way to maintain and clean it—it wasn't magical equipment, after all, otherwise self-cleaning would be a basic feature.

The guard stirred, poking and rubbing, and Eric watched from the side until he pulled the now-polished chainmail from the sand.

"Much cleaner now."

After tapping it a few times to shake out the sand from the links, the guard handed the mail to Eric. "Young Master, have a look."

Eric took it casually, and his arm immediately sank, nearly pulling him off his horse.

The guard quickly steadied him and took the mail back to the cart.

"Walker!" the captain shouted from behind.

"Do you have any idea how heavy chainmail is? The Young Master is still on horseback! Get down here and run!"

Regaining his seat on the horse, Eric cursed inwardly.

"...It’s fine, no need to get down," he signaled to Walker, who was about to climb off the wagon. "It’s not convenient on horseback; I’ll try it on when we get there."

The captain, who had ridden over, glared at Walker, checked on the Young Master, and then went ahead to patrol.

Watching the chainmail being tossed back into the sand crate, Eric shook his arm.

That was a long coat reaching to the knees, forged from fine steel. It likely weighed over ten kilograms. He had almost dropped it, yet the guard handled it with ease; there was a significant gap in their strength.

This was no surprise. The guards of the Lord’s Manor were at least Tier 3 warriors, which, according to the job system of *Crown of Thorns*, meant they were level 30 or higher.

While he belonged to that class and had trained since childhood, perhaps because he had only awakened his past-life memories and the associated job system today, he was currently only level 1. The gap in his attributes was not minor.

Eric opened his panel, his eyes scanning his base attributes and landing on the job-related content below.

...
[Job Class: Warrior (Tier 1)]
Class: Swordsman (Apprentice)
Level: 1 (EXP: 0/40)
Trait: [One-Handed Sword Mastery]
Skill: [Basic Swordsmanship]
...

[Warrior] was one of the four major job systems in *Crown of Thorns*, a physical melee class. Players in this system gained dual bonuses to Strength and Constitution upon leveling up.

*Crown of Thorns* had many sub-classes, but they all required leveling up to unlock through the promotion system. [Swordsman] was one of the first-tier choices for the [Warrior] class, Eric’s default, which granted an additional bonus to Agility upon leveling.

Each sub-class growth was divided into Apprentice, Proficient, and Veteran stages, but that didn't mean one had to complete every step of the process.

The initial level cap for a class was 15. Upon reaching the cap, one could choose to promote the tier, raising the level cap by 15 and unlocking new skills, or choose to switch to a new class.

For instance, at level 15, Eric could choose to promote his Apprentice [Swordsman] to Proficient [Swordsman], or switch to one of the newly unlocked classes: [Highland Warrior] or [Light Infantry].

The Eric of his past life, even after losing his right arm, could cut his way in and out of player teams with his left-handed sword, displaying fierce prowess. His mastery of swordsmanship was clearly profound, providing him with a promising career path.

However, as a ten-year veteran player, he had played through all four major job systems in *Crown of Thorns* and had his own understanding of sub-class combinations and growth. The Warrior system, in particular, was his main focus, so there was no need to copy old paths blindly.

After all, he wasn't playing a game anymore—"maximizing Strength because I’m afraid of low damage" could actually get you killed.

Eric was only level 1, so there was no need to fret over this for now. What really caught his attention was the subsequent content on his job panel.

...
[Second Job Class: Believer (Tier 1)]
Class: Acolyte (Apprentice)
Level: 1 (EXP: 0/40)
Trait: [Sacred Relic Mastery]
Skill: [Prayer]
...

Seeing this, Eric was somewhat bewildered.

[Believer] could be understood as the clergy—priests, nuns, and even paladins all belonged to this system.

He had played it, he was familiar with it, but the problem was that in the game, a character could only have one job system; there was no such thing as multi-classing.

Was it because he was now an NPC template?

Eric could recall quite a few bosses with double or even triple job systems who could fight and heal simultaneously, or who could land a few melee blows before leaping away to cast a fireball—very unfair.

Take the villainous High Priest Sinmagu, for example. Although he never displayed a health bar, the plot clearly indicated he held dual job systems as both Mage and Cleric.

But the Eric in his memories was a pure swordsman who never released any skills from other job systems during combat, let alone anything as conspicuous as divine magic.

—Was it because he had obtained the Saintess’s token and released divine magic, thus unlocking a new job system?

For the moment, that was the only possibility Eric could imagine.

But the subsequent question was how this second job system would grow. Would it be perfectly synchronized with the first, or would it require separate experience?

If the former, it would be a stroke of luck. If the latter, it would be a burden—every job system yielded higher rewards at later stages; trying to manage both usually resulted in neither developing well.

"...Not even a small animal. Did they all get scared off?"

Eric rode his horse, looking around. He really wanted to find a wild wolf or rabbit to slaughter and see how experience was gained.

If he couldn't manage both...

The path of his future lay split before him.

One was the bloody path of facing death; the other was an unknown, smooth road shimmering with divine light—he only knew the cleric as a combat class; he was still a stranger to how to become a guide for the gods, rather than just acting like one.

Lost in thought, Eric let his horse wander, slowing down until he drifted back to the rear of the column.

As the carriage carrying the two nuns passed him, he glanced at it unconsciously.

Clergy in this world were a secure career, comparable to passing the civil service exams in his past life.

While his hereditary noble title was also secure, the risks were high—in war, they were nominally required to go to the front lines, an obligation the Church did not share.

Moreover, his current goal was to become the Saintess’s successor. Any growth in the [Believer] system would translate into substantial help.

If he couldn't manage both, he might have to lay down the ultimate swordsmanship he had practiced since childhood and had already seen the potential of.

"...Looks like I’ll have to put everything into Faith."

Eric sighed, suddenly thinking of his uncle.

Hoofbeats echoed.

A breeze rose in the wilderness, bending the wild grass and making the woods rustle.

The party continued forward, half-relaxed and half-vigilant. The sun gradually sank, shadows stretched, and the color of the sky slowly changed.

The brilliant afterglow of the sunset didn't last long; the dusk quickly caught up, gradually shrouding the wilderness.

"We’re almost there, keep your spirits up—"

Leslie, holding a torch, rode to the middle of the column. "Don't let those bumpkins think the Lord’s Manor guards are just a bunch of loose, sloppy rogues."

"Who in Danton County wouldn't say our captain leads good men?" a guard chimed in.

"That’s a compliment to the Earl, it has nothing to do with you."

Leslie glanced toward the voice and rode ahead. "But if you don't look like a soldier, you’re the one tarnishing the Earl’s reputation."

In the carriage, Sophie, who had accidentally fallen asleep, woke up and stared blankly into the darkness.

Hearing the commotion outside, she poked her head out.

"Are we there?"

"Almost." The answer came from Eric, who was riding alongside, also holding a torch.

"Mm, finally..." Sophie leaned on the carriage window, looking ahead. Not yet fully awake, she found it easier to converse with him normally.

Eric watched her for a moment.

Her headscarf was crooked from her nap...

Mother Superior Alaina was probably twenty-eight or thirty, while this attendant-like young nun was at most sixteen or seventeen, with smooth skin and rosy lips; she looked like she came from a noble background.

The wind whistled. Seeming to sense the gaze from the other side, Sophie turned to look at him, but her expression suddenly turned to terror.

"Ah!"

In the flickering torchlight, a black shadow jumped out of the darkness without warning, lunging at the young noble on horseback.