As the fortress's gates creaked open, the new skeletons made their entrance, grandiose and stylized enough to rival the climax of an Indian movie. Their arrival on the battlefield was as undeniable as it was dramatic, transforming them instantaneously into the focal point—not merely for their theatrical debut but because this eclectic assembly was perhaps the weakest, most disorganized skeletal force ever to march into battle. They were the level 1s, an army so deficient in strength that their existence contradicted the very concept of fear and power typically commanded by such forces.

In the same vein as an epic movie saga, where heroes, adorned in vibrant attire, stride into battle with a confidence that commands the screen, these skeletons paraded forth. However, instead of the awe-inspiring heroes of celluloid dreams, these protagonists were bare-boned skeletons, each stepping forward with a misplaced sense of grandeur, despite their obvious frailties. Their entrance was so absurdly at odds with the dark and formidable image of an undead army that one could almost hear an imaginary soundtrack underscoring their movements.

These were the underdogs of the undead, embarking on the battlefield with a level of audacity that belied their skeletal frames. This wasn't merely a strategic positioning; it was a performance, a ludicrous display of ambition from an ensemble so spectacularly underpowered that their presence turned traditional notions of warfare on their head. The level 1s, in their naive defiance of martial expectations, had not just arrived—they had made an entrance, turning a moment meant for terror into an unforgettable spectacle of boldness, or perhaps more aptly described, a whimsical parade of the damned.

As this peculiar battalion advanced in formation, heads held high with a comedic level of confidence reminiscent of a novice actor on opening night, their march was abruptly cut short. An arrow, in a stunning defiance of all skeletal combat norms, transformed one of their number into dust instantly. It was a spectacle that defied belief, challenging the longstanding notion that arrows were about as harmful to skeletons as a stern look might be to a boulder. Yet, the evidence was clear as day: a solitary arrow had dispatched one of the skeletal warriors with laughable ease, as if the laws of the universe momentarily glitched, announcing "The attack was ineffective," before proving precisely the opposite.

The absurdity of the situation was palpable. These skeletal warriors were so incredibly frail that one might wonder if they were held together by mere thoughts and prayers rather than magical necromancy. This skeleton, now a pile of dust, served as a stark (and slightly humorous) reminder of the battalion's fragility. Indeed, they were not just weak; they set a new standard for vulnerability, achieving a level of ineptitude so profound it almost circled back to being impressive.

Chaos erupted as the remaining 200-plus skeletons, visibly shaken by the unexpected demise of their comrade, abandoned any pretense of formation and commenced what could only loosely be described as 'running.' Their movements were less akin to the swift dash of seasoned warriors and more reminiscent of a slapstick routine, with limbs flailing and an overall lack of coordination that would have been comical if not for the circumstances. They scattered in every conceivable direction, turning the battlefield into a scene of pure pandemonium.

This haphazard exodus threw the besiegers into a state of utter confusion, their meticulously crafted siege strategies unraveling at the seams. The sight of an entire army dispersing like startled birds, without rhyme or reason, was bewildering. The skeletal horde, in their frantic dash, inadvertently became a masterclass in chaos theory, proving that unpredictability could, in fact, be a weapon—albeit one wielded with the grace of a toddler in a china shop.

Amidst the ensuing chaos, as the enemy commander—the skeletal knight—was momentarily distracted by the disarray, his opponent, the robed skeleton wielding a staff, seemed to vanish into thin air.

---

You leveled up

Thaleia smiled at the prompt that appeared as she dispatched the archer. She had always been aware of the threat, but the reality proved underwhelming. She had expected an archer of a caliber similar to the warriors in her tribe, yet this challenger wielded less strength and skill with the bow than her 6-year-old nephew. Thoughts of her family cast a dark shadow over her face. When would she see them again? Could she even hope to? Regardless, she refused to let such thoughts distract her.

She glanced at the Seer and offered a smile. This companion had been a great support on her journey so far, not only enhancing her abilities with that unique skill but also providing valuable insights and emotional support. It was a refreshing contrast to what would otherwise have been a monotonous quest of easy and predictable battles. Solitude, in this context, would have been a formidable foe. She pondered the psychological impact on someone isolated in days of battle, conversing with no one but facing endless foes. She surmised that they might develop a twisted or deranged mentality as a defense against the loneliness and the continuous brushes with death.

Seeing the Seer approaching with a familiar smile—a gesture that had become somewhat of a tradition amid these repetitive encounters—felt genuinely comforting.

"I suppose you have an idea of which skills to choose next?" Having reached level 5, Thaleia placed her full trust in the selections Alice had made thus far, recognizing their significant enhancement to her combat abilities.

The sensation of leveling up was immensely gratifying, imbuing her with a sense of growing strength with each advancement. She harbored high expectations for the future, convinced that she would ascend to the ranks of legendary warriors and eventually prove worthy of the gods she revered.

"Another brilliant display. You handled the first enemy archer very well," the Seer wrote in the air. Thaleia had somehow grown accustomed to this peculiar ability the Seer possessed, marveling at how she could perfectly understand the symbols written. It was an unusual form of communication, but she had grown used to it by now.

"I wouldn't call that exactly an archer…" she remarked, shaking her head.

"I believe you've noticed we have been granted two Skill Points instead of the usual one. My guess is this might be a pattern for every five levels." She nodded in response, but the truth was she hadn't even bothered to check. "I would recommend enhancing Agility Boost and Heavy Strike. Your new skill is interesting, but focusing on attack and stats at this point is best. As we discussed before, Heavy Strike can also be used as a defensive maneuver with the added Might attribute."

She didn't even know she had a new skill. 

• Static Defense (R1 L1) (1 SP): Reduces incoming physical damage by 70%. While the skill is active, finesse is reduced by 80%. Duration: up to 3 seconds, MP cost: 1 MP per second. Cooldown: 80 seconds.

After checking it and seeing what it was, she didn’t give it much thought and simply leveled up both suggested skills. Looking at her stats and Current Skills section, she grinned. "For Ares' sake, am I strong," she thought, smiling.

Name: Thaleia

Class: Warrior

• Level: 5

• HP: 248

• MP: 30

• Might: 39.5(+10)

• Finesse: 48(+15)

• Mystique: 6.5

• Essence: 10

Active Skills:

Heavy Strike (R1 L2)

• Gain 20 Might for the following strike or until the duration ends. Duration: 11 s,CD: 110 s.

Strength Boost (R1 L2)

• Gain 10 Might. Duration: 125 s,CD: 295 s.

Agility Boost (R1 L2)

• Gain 10 Finesse. Duration: 125 s,CD: 295 s.

Passive Skills:

• 20% Might increase

• 20% Finesse increase

• Reduction of all physical damage suffered by 20%

• HP regeneration increased by 50%

• Armor durability reduction rate reduced by 30%

She grinned, feeling a pang of sympathy for her upcoming foes.

"How's the durability of your sword?" She was initially stunned by the question but then remembered what it was and how to check it.

Weapon: Basic Warrior's Sword (Rank 1, Level 2)

• Durability: 24/50

• Weight: 3.0 kg

"24 out of 50," she replied. Now it clicked for her, recalling the previous conversation where Alice mentioned that she should, if possible, evade rather than block with her sword to minimize durability loss. They did not know when they would have the opportunity to acquire another weapon, specifically a sword, which was the only weapon she could use due to her limitation: You can only use swords as weapons.

The Seer nodded and asked another question: "Are you hungry?"

'Huh, did the Seer have a way to conjure food? No way, right?' she thought. "Of course, I am," she couldn't help saying, hoping for some magic to provide her a nice piece of meat for her empty stomach. She could almost feel the warmth and energy just by thinking about it. But…

"We should be close to solving both issues, do not worry. Let's keep going," the Seer wrote.

Well, it wasn't the magical delicious steak she had envisioned, but it was good news, nonetheless. She didn't even question how the Seer knew. After all, she was a Seer, right? She probably saw the future or something.

---

"Haha," Dante couldn't contain his laughter from the safety of his underground 'bunker'. This makeshift group had executed their role flawlessly. Through their sheer, almost comical weakness, they had morphed into the perfect distraction. The enemy besieging the castle found themselves up against a scenario so bizarre, it likely surpassed even their most outlandish predictions. True, the skeletal warriors were laughably easy to dispatch—any stray arrow would do the job—but as a 250-strong skeletal 'force' (using the term 'force' very loosely here), they had fulfilled their purpose to a tee. They were an unexpectedly ideal distraction, turning what could be considered a glaring weakness into a tactical advantage.

Virgil, fully briefed on the situation through his link with Dante, seized the moment of confusion. He had been resummoned just as the enemy commander's attention wavered, slipping away unnoticed in the tumult. Now, he was stealthily making his way from a different direction, aiming to take out the last standing catapult. It was a move as strategic as it was daring, leveraging the chaotic diversion created by the skeletal horde to strike a decisive blow.

Virgil adeptly navigated the tumult of the battlefield, sidestepping where possible and forging ahead through obstacles when evasion wasn't an option. The reality was stark; the 200-plus skeletal 'distraction' was on borrowed time against the enemy forces. Yet, Virgil was well aware that among the enemy's arsenal, it was primarily the catapult that presented a significant challenge—the rest were manageable nuisances. Well, the catapult and the enemy commander, to be precise. The latter, however, would have to wait until the catapult was neutralized.

With this strategy firmly in mind, Virgil dashed across the battlefield, closing in on the catapult, now less than 20 meters away. The scene around him could've been plucked from a dark comedy—level 1 skeletons being mowed down with less effort than it takes to cut through butter, their aspirations of battlefield glory cut short just as swiftly. Amidst this grim yet bizarrely humorous spectacle, Virgil made significant headway towards his target, only to find his path abruptly blocked by the enemy knight.

This encounter, however, did not catch Virgil off guard. The sight of a fully armored knight charging towards him was as subtle as a fireworks display in a library. Motivated by Dante's innovative strategies, Virgil decided to dip into his magical reserves for a bit of creative problem-solving. Enter the protagonist of our next act: the marginally more competent level 4(+1) skeleton, making its debut with the kind of pomp and circumstance you'd expect from a gadget in a late-night TV ad, promising to revolutionize your life—or at least how you slice your tomatoes.

Virgil didn't just summon this skeletal reinforcement; he imbued it with all he had. With Strength Infusion and Agility Infusion coursing through its bones, and armed with a level 5 staff and an overabundance of optimism, this skeleton was ready for its moment in the spotlight. This wasn't just any minion; this was a minion on a mission, perhaps slightly bewildered by its sudden promotion but determined to make a mark. If it could just hold off the knight for a few precious moments, it wouldn't just be another skull in the skeletal army; it would be heralded as a hero, or at least mentioned in passing as a peculiar footnote in the epic tale of Virgil's resistance. The stage was set, and all eyes (or eye sockets, in this case) were on this unlikely champion, about to face off against a formidable adversary in what promised to be a memorable—if not slightly mismatched—‘clash’.