Robert was incredibly lucky to somehow sell his story to the skeptical knight, who interrogated him with clear doubts in his eyes. The latter even started their talk with direct threats, but Rob from the start tried to speak as much as possible, giving a lot of unneeded information and almost flooding the knight with it. Most of it came from his imagination, of course. However, plenty of small details, which he couldn’t miss with his always active focus, made his words more believable. Moreover, his non-stopping talk took a lot of time to tire this Sir Bernard, while the latter wasn’t even bothered by an ordinary soldier. It was again the very same attitude to others from the privileged class – they just didn’t take seriously anyone, who was below them.
Of course, the knight’s subordinates rummaged through Rob’s belongings but found nothing strange. Despite his ability, Robert wasn’t dumb to take any coins or valuable items with him exactly for such a possible outcome. With this reasoning, he didn’t search for any new or best items to take for himself, when he gathered everything before setting off. No, he intentionally aimed mostly for worn-out or cheap options, just in case. It appeared to be the correct choice. Soldiers didn’t even bother to take anything from him, disregarding his items with disdain.
Moreover, Sir Bernard got the same thought as the investigator from Highmoon’s barony – with a limited time, during the war, without any ability to send messages, and with the role of an ordinary warrior – no one saw Robert as a possible spy. Maybe a deserter, but not a spy. That didn’t mean that he immediately joined the knight’s forces. Everyone was still wary of him, so he lost his weapons and never was alone. He was forbidden to take even a step close to the place, where the food was cooked. Soon scouts confirmed the battle in an already burned village. Not having any other witness to ask, Sir Bernard decided to retreat, assuming that the enemy managed to win it. Not knowing their quantity or quality, his caution took over, so they went back, taking Robert with them.
Despite his unclear state, all soldiers liked to talk and soon rumors started to spread, clarifying the current situation to Rob. The tens of raids, similar to Baron’s Highmoon, had a different impact. Some groups managed to cut throw with ease, while others were wiped out in the first battles. What united them all was the destructive consequences to all settlements, captured in the storm of war. The death toll on villagers was so insane that both dukes already agreed to return to traditional mass battles in fields.
It could sound ridiculous, but it had some part of strategy in it. Both sides agreed to fight simultaneously in five places till the end. The losing side either died or became captive if they surrendered and couldn’t be used as a force in the next fight. The winners, on the other hand, could do that. After that, the decisive battle resolved the outcome of the war. This tradition managed to decrease casualties from non-combatants while giving the ability to deceive the opponent. There was no need to win each battle – the real goal was to make the losses of the enemy bigger than your own, before crushing him in the final confrontation. It was brutal and direct with no ambushes, reinforcements, or retreats. For the knights it was noble.
However, for ordinary soldiers, it might be the death sentence. Untrained militia could be easily thrown against experienced warriors or even knights themselves, just to blood them out even with huge cost. Only higher-ups knew where they wanted to win and where it was planned loss from the beginning. In the latter cases, knights could easily surrender whenever they wanted with a safe guarantee, but it was not an option for lowly soldiers. They had to wait for such a command – without it, no one would stop their killing spree, easily massacring everyone until no one left.
Such battling by the rules also helped another goal – to keep all trained soldiers in check, while limiting their experience by a lot, thus decreasing the chances of successful revolt. Ban for any range weapons, only open battles without fortifications, possibility to sacrifice inconvenient troops that had doubted loyalty – everything helped the knights to stay on the spot of the biggest military power in the world. Of course, that was only Rob’s thoughts, which he was not dumb to share with anyone.
Robert came right before such battles, and after losing “his” sovereign, he was simply added to the forming militia just for numbers. This time it was a completely different approach. Former farmers and artisans only got ten-day training in using spears in basic formation. That was it. No proper physical training, no sparring, nothing. A similar situation was with armor – just padded doublet aka gambeson with a few metal plates sewn over and an open helmet without nose protection. No brigantine, no protection for thighs or arms, nothing. The reason was simple – the scale of confrontation rose faster than everyone thought, and Dukes just didn’t have enough gear for thousands of recruits. Trophies couldn’t cover it, being often damaged after fulfilling its main purpose. Unfortunately, Rob also didn’t manage to keep his own – his new sergeant directly took it from him with clear provocation in his eyes.
“What, do you have any problems with sharing with your commander? Do I need to persuade you? I don’t mind,” noticing the expression on Robert’s face, the bastard put his hand on the sword’s hilt. His red bushy beard couldn’t hide his mocking grin. He clearly enjoyed such usage of authority, trying to show off before others.
Rob wasn’t an idiot to fight back – that was an easy way to become an execution example for disobeying the orders. Still, he remembered that moron, hoping to be near him in the chaotic battle as anything could happen during it. Maybe before experiencing these months, he wouldn’t even have such a thought, but now he started to become colder, calmer, and quieter. His deeds could speak instead of words. Rob didn’t like this change. Again and again, he repeated himself about the need for unbreakable spirit and positive thinking.
I am not sitting inside the underground bunker, but actually living in unpolluted nature. I can finally work on my health and body. The scars on top of my muscles are only adding brutality. Moreover, I have a real superpower with my regeneration! Oh, and I see new faces… Crap, who am I kidding? I am in deep shit… Stop, Robert, think positive – you are in deep shit in ANOTHER world!
Such inner dialogues were common for him, as he didn’t try to speak with anyone else more than needed. The reason wasn’t his depression because of the loss of friends – instead, he was not willing to form another bond, which soon would be broken. It wasn’t hard to foresee an insane quantity of dead among untrained militia. The bad premonition was only strengthened with increasing numbers of it and low discipline. Sergeants overused their status quite often, and no one was bothered with it. Multiple fights broke between future fellow soldiers, resulting only in a few punishments with a single execution. Some even managed to get booze, either drinking to calm themselves before the unavoidable battlefield or just because they couldn’t live without it. Overall, the situation degraded to a huge extent.
That’s why Robert kept his distance from everyone, continuing to train in his free time. Such focus helped him to keep the focus on his main goal – survival in any circumstances for the sake of enjoyment of his life, or in short – for hamburgers. He needed strength for that. His abilities couldn’t make him a knight, but his mind and Adaptation had enough potential together to raise his combat power. The more experience in fights he had, the easier it became to predict his opponent’s movements. However, he still needed his own body not only to respond immediately without any delays but to do exactly what he wanted. The example of his first fight against the bear still was fresh in his memories.
Of course, such training obsession created a few conflicts with dumbasses from his tent. It wasn’t hard to understand that he was chosen as a target because of his short height, absence of affiliation with any group, and public humiliation from the sergeant. They wanted to set an example of their own authority but miscalculated – their standing didn’t give them the same protection. Still, Rob had used his fists twice to stop others from messing with him. Both fights didn’t go to his advantage as he got his part of bruises and pain, but his unwillingness to back down, despite bad odds; his continuation of training the next day as he wasn’t injured; his readiness to fight back in any moment – all these earned him respect from others. That led to an ironically familiar nickname. Thorn. The reasoning was different this time – his small frame together with his spiky attitude to others – but, nevertheless, it was exactly the same as William called him during their last conversation. Maybe that’s why he didn’t oppose it.
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Another thing that Robert managed to reorganize was his status window. He disregarded any comparison to average humans or any other beings, fully focusing on himself and his own growth. Therefore, the screen returned to the standard version with small adjustments.
Envoy of Wepwakor (candidate) – Tier 0
Strength 14 (380 pt.) – 42% of max potential
Agility 13 (345 pt.) – 51% of max potential
Endurance 17 (505 pt.) – 46% of max potential
Toughness 8 (214 pt.) – 51% of max potential
Vitality 10 (259 pt.) – 56% of max potential
Perception 10 (259 pt.) – 75% of max potential
Mind 40 (4’526 pt.) – 38% of max potential
Core 18 (556 pt.) – 82% of max potential
Mana regeneration (7): 1% in apr. 160 seconds
Abilities: Adaptive Growth
Traits: Remolded Brain, God’s Envoy, Spiritual Body, Soul Anchor, External Mana Imbuing
First, he changed his maximum stat settings to percentage because seeing 14/23 Strength with the constant increase in each point made things look incorrect. It might seem to be over half of the possible growth, but in fact, it was much less. Next was adding absolute numbers of current stats on top of relative. Robert didn’t have a base value for full understanding, but at least he could see the change in them to see the difference. They still were vaguer and looked to be fully dependent on a main number. The third was a complete delete of current mana status – the info was useless for him. The last was to keep full names of abilities and traits. Rob knew it changed nothing – it was only a visual image of his abilities. Nevertheless, it felt good to simplify things for better usability.
External Mana Imbuing – under the influence of God’s blessing, the living being is forcefully sucking ambient mana from surroundings directly to their Core to quicken regeneration. The process is unstoppable, constant, and will grow in time to an unknown degree, set by God himself. The main downside of it is the inability to filter sucked mana and completely adapt it to personal mana.
At first glance, this ability didn’t look dangerous, even increasing his mana regeneration from the previous stuck state. Moreover, being granted by God, it overcame Rob’s restriction to take the mana from his surroundings in any way. He could get his energy back simultaneously from two sources – through his Soul Anchor from between dimensions and through it from surroundings, which was great.
However, Robert wasn’t sure that it was his God who granted such a trait to him. If so, either it was a local ruler or it was an attacker. While the former in such a way could increase the strength of knights to use them as a main force, the latter might easily focus on the unfiltered part as a piece of unknown plan. Rob didn’t know what the consequences could be from getting too much ambient mana directly without properly adjusting it to the body. He didn’t feel any different at all, but just in case he tried to spend more mana in training while hoping that his Adaptation could handle all leftovers. In any case, Rob just didn’t have any other option. The flow of events continued to pull him, not pay attention to his struggles.
This short period and overall his previous experience in this world didn’t look like an adventure. He mostly trained, lived under the sky or in cramped tents, fought, and marched a lot to another place of battle. It seemed to be boring, but constant exhaustion didn’t give him time to think about it properly. Looking back, Robert felt as a time was rushing forward at an insane speed in circles, while his role was that pity squirrel in a wheel that tried to keep up, throwing away any other thought except the concertation on his own movement. All rare memorable events were either death-threatening fights or traumatic losses. Still, Rob already decided to struggle until the end no matter what – not everyone could get another chance to live even if this chance was quite fucked up.
“Hey, Thorn, stop that creeping smile! You are freaking me out!” complained the soldier, who walking beside Robert. Their march had started a few days ago and wasn’t even halfway. Sergeants tried to urge them to increase the pace, but it was obvious that after you disregard discipline to such an extent, you just couldn’t demand immediate and full execution of your orders. Moreover, clouds of dust that were flying in the air obstructed the sight by some degree, making the dirty militia in similar equipment almost undistinguished from each other. That didn’t help with punishment for insubordination.
“It is just funny how naive most of our fellows are. Their belief in lucky outcomes specifically for them is hilarious. They think, that even if everyone has low survival, of course, it will be different odds personally for them. They will live. For sure. It just can’t be them. Never. Everything will be fine. And if it so, then why bother, right?” answered Rob with a smirk.
“Not everyone had proper training before being forcefully recruited like you, Thorn. They just believe that surviving only two battles doesn’t need skill, but more luck. Most of them are eager to return to their previous life, without a need to know how to use a spear or an axe. And no one from higher-ups has made an effort to explain the wrongness of such an approach in a future blood bath,” commented another soldier from the left side.
“And what about you, old man?” asked Robert, turning his head to a grey-bearded man with clear wrinkles on his face, after the latter spoke up.
“As you said, I am indeed old. I’ve experienced the battlefield as a youth in the very same situation, so I can at least understand that our group doesn’t stand any chance in direct confrontation against anyone, except maybe a similar untrained militia. That is also the reason why I am here and not my son – he has his life to live with my newly born granddaughter. Even had to bribe the enlister to replace him. So, to answer your question – I am not naïve, but I just don’t fear death. I already fulfilled my duty as a father. It is enough for me, whatever the end it would be.”
“Sounds wise, Donald,” nodded Robert.
“Didn’t think you could remember my name with all your training, infighting with squad bullies and overall lack of sociability,” slightly smiled the older soldier.
“That is an interesting way of saying about my unwillingness to speak with anyone.”
“I was headman in my village for five years, before Baron replaced me for bad harvest during a drought.”
“Oh, not fair, but understandable. There always has to be someone to take the blame, right? Returning to my training – I just want to increase my chances of survival. I am sure that these battles will not be the only ordeal we have to overcome… And I don’t want to get too familiar with someone who is guaranteed to die shortly. Bad experience,” explained Robert with a deep sigh.
“Then I must excuse me for bothering you with my…,” started Donald, but was interrupted.
“Not at all. Robert, by the way,” a brief handshake with an amused old soldier gave time for Rob to continue, “I just suddenly realized that life continues, and I don’t need to erect the wall around myself in a fear of loss. My future as a warrior will always lead to losses. I can grieve about them. I can remember. But I don’t need to distance myself from everyone else. That is just an escape, not a way out.”
“Now I see that Thorn appeared to be not so thorny at all. Heh,” the old man concluded with a chuckle.
“Of course, not! I can even appreciate the beauty around, which often is hidden under the dirt,” Robert pointed to flying petals from the familiar blue-purple flower that were dancing in the air under the blowing wind. Their inner glow could slightly pierce through the dusty veil, making look like many strange eyes from unknown creatures at an unfocused glance. This illusion could be broken immediately at will, leaving the same odd flower gliding with a mesmerizing effect.
I hope it's only my bad imagination and it has nothing to do with the incoming end of the world because this plant is literally everywhere!