Waking up was the most difficult thing in the world, especially to those of long nights. His eyes tried to open to bask in the light of day, but they remained shut. No matter how hard he tried to open them, as groggy as he was, they would not obey him. It was even worse with the sun’s piercing light burning his eyelids. 

Groaning, he threw his body towards the right, trying to get into a comfortable position. His previous state was with his back bent backward on what felt like solid metal and wood. His heavenly thick blankets were nowhere to be felt as he repositioned. He also made sure to get his face away from the insistent sunlight. 

But, as he did so, another flashed before him before disappearing. It disappeared then reappeared multiple times before he could take no longer. He sat up with great struggle, eyes still closed. His muscles felt like rags, and brain closer to mush than anything else. 

Somehow he got his aching arms high enough to wipe his eyes from a crusty substance that had covered his face. What it was, he did not know, but it felt horrible, to say the least. It was sticky with remnants of it being a liquid still, applied generously all over him. 

It took a while, but he eventually got his hands to remove enough of the substance to open his eyes. It was only then did he curse worse than a sailor that had just lost his ship. The sun’s glare was too strong, burning his unadjusted eyes. He rubbed them more fiercely in hopes it would alleviate the pain even a little. It did not. 

But the glare did fade and with it the pain. With a relieved sigh he opened his eyes again, they were blurry from what felt like ages of disuse, but even in his state, he could make out the world around him. But, clear up it did.

He sat frozen for what felt like days, unwilling to move, afraid to twitch a muscle. He tried his best to rationalize him being here but found no answers forthcoming. As far as the eye could see, and even beyond the horizon, bodies piled up in layers over each other. Some human and others a ghastly mix of furry horned monsters from nightmares and horror tales. Each was a different shape, color, and size, completely unique to themselves. 

Endless numbers laid about on the grounds unmoving, some with weapons sticking out of them and others that had been covered totally in blood. They wore armors, the humans, red and golden plates of metal, chainmail, and leathers of the same color. Some even wore large robes and others were nothing but encased in metal. 

The monsters, on the other hand, wore any scraps they could find to bolster their already enormous and vicious bodies, some even had chitin to add on to their defense.

It took a while, but his senses kicked back in eventually. The heavy smell of copper and rotting flesh shook him out of his muse. The pungent smell felt like a horse kicked him in the chest as he heaved and coughed, trying his best to empty his stomach, but found it impossible. There was nothing to puke, for his body hadn't eaten in days. 

With it came the deathly silence, worse than anything he could have imagined. He begged to hear any sound not his own, even the roars of a predator would have been a paradise compared to this hell. But, he did not have any luck in such. 

His body shook and throbbed from countless wounds, some fatal and others less serious, that had already healed leaving terrible scars, deforming his sculpted figure. They burned, all at once, screaming for him to answer their needs and tend to them. But in this state, he could do nothing but suffer. 

He grabbed his head as memory after memory crashed into his mind. The horror and terror of battle. The endless cries for help, and pleading of thousands as the rest carried on to battle. Then their accusatory eyes as he walked away to find the next foe to slay in the ocean of enemies before them. 

The savagery, some torn in twain. The viscera showering them as they continued to push forward without stopping. Some getting into his eyes and mouth. He had puked then but was merely pushed forward by the ever forward march. No matter how hard they tried, they were covered in the lifeblood of someone they had known but moments ago. 

They all haunted him, shouted at him for not saving them. For not pulling them away from the death and destruction. From the monsters...the Aemoh they fought to keep the human realm from utter annihilation. Those that basked in the death they encountered, suicidally jumping towards them without a second thought just for a fleeting taste of human flesh.

Each cried and cursed him for being the only person to rise when all else from both sides found nothing but deaths welcoming doors waiting for them. 

He bawled and sobbed without restraint, hoping another of the monsters they faced survived to end his suffering. But, he was not lucky, he did not face anything or anyone. 

A flash glinted before him, reflecting the sun as he swayed back and forth. A sword, unremarkable in anyway sat fully embedded into what appeared to be the body under him. With a hesitant hand, he grabbed the hilt. His shaking could not be stopped as death flashed before his own eyes. 

It would take little to end it all here, just a single thrust and he would no longer need to suffer. It would take seconds and nothing more for him to rest once again peacefully. 

Yet, he could not grip the sword any longer. He was a coward, too afraid to take his own life. He could ride out to meet a hundred foes, yet could not end a single one that could not possibly fight back against his will. 

“Grab the sword!” his voice was hoarse and dry. It was nothing more than wheezing, but it felt like a world-shaking boom to him. 

With a cry he pulled the sword out of the body, only to throw it far away from himself, not noticing the thousands that could not have been ten meters away from him. It was only that sword that meant anything to him in that moment. It signified his inability to bring his own life to an end. 

Flashes of a peaceful time showed before him, of a person whom he had first found the only love and warmth with. The only person to care for an orphan with no last name like him. A beautiful pale moon, hanging above the storms that raged below. His wife, the reason he chose to live and the reason he joined this forsaken army. 

With her death, on her sickbed, he could not take to live any longer then. But it was her words that cooled his desire to join her in the heavens above. He promised to join the ranks of the Golden Tide, if he survived for seven years, or until the army no longer existed, then destiny had chosen for him life. 

On the other hand, if death was meant for his soul, she would be waiting for him at the gates, unwilling to enter without her true love. 

Yet, here he was now, cursed on a land he wished to not be apart of, but unwilling to make an oathbreaker of himself and his wife. 

With a weak body, he stood, his legs felt like noodles, feet heavier than boulders. His head spun and with it his vision. He almost collapsed multiple times, but he continued towards the epicenter of it all. Towards where the leader of the Golden Tide had battled until his last. 

There he would find the tides heart.

With labored steps, he stumbled and tripped his way over the mountain of corpses before him. His hands felt numb and body only felt heavier as he continued towards the top. The corpses were all cold and hardened. Though he did his best to not look down into their lifeless eyes, he could not stop his own from drifting down every time his mind lapsed. 

It only ached his heart more as he noticed the soldiers who marched next to him. One was a massive fellow that radiated a sense of greater than life actions. A holy man who prayed and sent more than half of his pension to an orphanage near his home within the country. 

But he was determined to never pause, knowing fully that if he did pause, even for but a moment, he would not rise again in the state he found himself in. It was his current reality. So further he pushed himself, his tears slowly streaking down his face. He wanted to wipe them away, hoping they would alleviate the pain, but his arms were too heavy. 

An insistent flashing of light from the edges of his vision bothered him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Every second it would flash just a bit stronger than before, demanding his attention. But, he gave it no thought, pushing himself until he stood at the very top. 

Taking a few steps, he fell to his knees before a golden orb that had lost its light. The power on which the Golden Tide had built its entire strength around. An orb of power that held no weight any longer. 

He grabbed it with shaking hands. It's cold metallic touch felt unnaturally smooth, so much so it had almost slipped out of his hands multiple times. It meant a lot to him, it proved the death of the army he had let decide his fate. 

As he held it, he saw an arcing light appear from the orbs deepest core. The last light, his light. As the only survivor of the entire army, the orb called for him as its only master. Even if it believed him unworthy, he was still a soldier, the final one, of the Golden Tide. Its own existence hinged on him. 

Cradling it, he struggled to get up, but once he did, he continued to walk forward. The pale corpse of their leader laid on the ground unceremoniously. His dignity, noble character, pride, they were all worth nothing in the end as his dull eyes stared up into the skies. His armor was left in tattered pieces and body in an even worse condition, missing limbs and large chunks. 

Walking past the man, his eyes caught sight of their leaders sword. Still gleaming a bright golden color, unchipped, undamaged by the entire battle they had just gone through. Instead it stood as a sentinel, guarding their exposed carcasses. 

He grabbed onto its hilt. For a long moment, he felt the sword deny him the right to carry it, but those moments came to an end as it accepted him as well. With its previous master dead, it would be nothing more than a worthless piece of metal without another owner. 

With a grunt, he pulled it out of the corpse of a behemoth Aemoh. It came out with a squelish that made him shiver in disgust. 

Having finished what he planned, he began to trek his way in the direction they had marched away from. But as he took his first few steps, the light from the edges of his light flashed with renewed vigour. Making sure he could not deny it any longer. With a defeated sigh, his eyes drifted to it, only for a series of foreign words to pop into existence in front of him. 

He fell backwards with a cry as the bright light burned his eyes. No matter what he did, they would not go, forcing him to recognize them. Even if he attempted to close his eyes, the words would not disappear, only growing brighter the longer he ignored them. Finally giving up, he focused on the words with narrowed eyes. 

System ~

The Battle of Javier’s Plains ~

Participants ~ 23,905,766

Survivors ~ 1

Experience Available ~ 1,009,556,334

Experience Gained ~ 18,982

Experience of Other Participants ~ 1,009,547,352

Experience Gained in Absentee (Death) ~ 4,038,190

Experience Remaining (Wasted) ~ 1,005,509,162

....

Error ~

Err … ~ 

Remaining Experience Transferred to Beyond Energy ~

Beyond Energy Transferred to Outer Dimension ~

Beyond Energy Transferred Back to Deldenium (World) ~

Beyond Energy Transferred into Vessel ~

Beyond Energy Recreated By Emerald Essence ~

Emerald Essence Energy Transferred into Skill Points ~

Skill Points Gained ~ 191,526

Though the words were plentiful, he understood none of them, much less those streaks and swirls near the end of each line. Staring at them only made his mind hurt and a feeling of vertigo overtake him. In the end, he tried swiping at them. Instead of making them disappear or at the very least, make sense of the script, another just as foriegn appeared.

Do you wish to manually assign/select your skills?

Yes ~

No ~

Swipe again to... ~

….

Error ~

Language 1909XR89C4 Translated to Language 432RL889AA ~

Without doing anything, the words started to morph in his vision. They slowly began to ripple and create words and sentences he understood. But, that only created more confusion on his part. Experience? System? Skill Points? He understood little to nothing about these words or what the numbers assigned to them could mean. 

Only until he read the last screen did he get an inkling of what it could possibly be. He had to choose something, or something was supposed to be given to him. What, he couldn’t possibly know. So, with a great deal of caution, though he found it foolish to be afraid of words, he selected yes. 

He shouted as a words filled his vision, thousands upon thousands of words. They flitted and kept rising up without stop. They moved so fast, they were nothing but blurs to him. The stream continued without pause until he experimentally extended his hand touching what felt like water. 

Without any sign, the wall of words stopped as his fingers brushed against them. Hopping back, he looked around with wide eyes. He was still jumpy after the battle, after hearing all the destruction and death that had surrounded him. 

Only after finding himself all alone and without any dangers surrounding him did he bring his focus back onto the wall of words before him. They were an enormous list of abilities that had him either confused beyond his wits or had him drooling to get it. But in the end, he felt overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities available to him.

Of course, he understood that somehow, someway, if he chose the skills available, they would be his. But that was the issue in its entirety. What if he chooses wrong, or if better options were available that he skimped on because of his lack of patience. Then again, who in their right mind would spend a few years just combing through the thousands of possibilities and options he could use. 

As his trail of thought diverted into that sphere, another screen appeared before him. 

Do you wish to allow an automated system to assign/select your skills? 

Yes ~

No ~

For a moment, he considered the possibilities. Whether it was more fortuitous to choose his own or to let whatever it was, this automated system, to make the choices for him. But in the end, he was in no mood to pour time and effort in something so distant in the future. All he wanted was to escape the battlefield, the sporadic images he sees flashing before his eyes.

They would fly by like irritating mosquitoes, but instead of small traces of blood, his will was being chipped at constantly. He would remember, in great detail, how the soldiers he walked by had died. Whether by flames, crushed by giant limbs, or simply torn apart like rags to be discarded. 

He willed for this system to make the choice, but with a heavy heart. The mountain of words condensed before his eyes into a small wheel that spun without stop. It was bright, far to bright for him.Closing his eyes, he struggled to reign in the trembling of his hands or the slick sweat that crawled down his face. 

With a large exhalation, he continued on his way walking away from the battle, ignoring the wheel that would spin for a few minutes before landing on a word, then repeating it constantly until he assumed it to be out of skill points. After that he put it out of his mind, this was for another day, a better day in the future. 

Without anywhere to step, his footfalls were placed carefully on the bodies of friend and foe lest he falls onto a propped up sword or spear. He cringed every time he heard a body under crunch or move as he put its weight on it. Though the army was a way out of his previous life, he still felt some kinship with those that would sacrifice their lives for him. 

He continued to walk, but after a while, his eyes began to blur, jumbling up the world to him. A feeling of foreboding sense of confusion assaulted him. He felt lost, not understand in which direction he was heading. His legs were heavy, shaking with every laborious step. And worst of all was the difficulty in breathing. 

Yet, he was determined to push forward. To reach some sign of his progress. He continued walking for hours, but it had not brought him any closer to the edge of the battlefield in his mind. His continued exertion felt useless and without cause. But he had nothing better to do than walk.

Like that, in his daze, the sun fell down without him noticing. He pushed ahead without a single thought, his body just following its last command. But, eventually, in the middle of the night, his body finally gave out. He fell forward as his step missed its placement. Crashing onto the floor with a dull thump. 

He fell unconscious holding tightly to the orb and sword. His grip was unnatural and body unwilling to let go of either item that had accepted him as their master. 

---

Sunlight tore its way into his eyes. Waking him for his long slumber. With a long groan he shifted his weak body, almost frozen in its position after having not moved in days. He grunted as he felt the orb under him leaving a deep impression on his body. 

Shaking his head, he felt groggy and lost. Opening his eyes, only intoduced him to a very blurry image and amalgamation of color he did not understand. He did not know where he was or how he had gotten there. 

“...awake,” a voice said. 

It was probably in a light tone, but to his head it felt loud enough to crack his skull. He complained in guttural sounds hoping the voice would understand his distress. 

“Don’t touch him! Nobody touch him! He hasn't moved from that spot in days, we don't know if he’s one of them undead fellows!” another boomed without any resemblance of care to the injureds plight. 

“Stop being stupid, Kendo,” the first voice said in exasperation. “If their were any undead around here, we would have joined them long ago. The bodies are stacked in layers for crying out loud.”

The second voice just humphed in annoyance. 

A person shuffled towards him, bloating out the sun. If he could hug them, he would. The light was causing him all kinds of trouble this morning. All he did was groan as he tried to speak, only to wince instead. His mouth was so dry it hurt just trying to say anything. 

“Careful there, mister soldier,” the first voice said almost reverently. “You’ll be needing some water to help with that voice of yours.” 

The body carefully tilted his head upwards and let a flow of heavenly cold water down his mouth. He drank it up greedily hoping it was a never ending river. But his dreams were quickly dashed away as it came to a sudden stop. 

The unknown voice laughed as it stopped pouring the water down his throat. “Woah there, mister soldier. Don’t want to choke ya, mister soldier.” 

“W-who are you? W-where am I?” his voice was hoarse and tired, but the water had given him enough strength to speak his few words.

A tense silence was all he got instead. He could see the two blurry figures looking at each other as if communicating without words. Eventually, the second threw his hands up in exasperation.

“We’re treasure, uh, treasure connoisseurs, mister soldier. That’s the word right, Kendo,” first said. 

Kendo only grunted irritably. 

The soldier just laughed weakly. “Thieves, huh. These are all rightfully the possession of the Golden Tide. No one would take kindly to others taking what belonged to them.”

“The dead need no possessions,” Kendo said, vehemently. “I told you something like this was gonna happen, Jacob. You pure silked fool.”

Jacob ignored his intense friend, smiling hesitantly, “The tide is no more, mister soldier.” his voice was nothing but a whisper. 

To the man lying on the floor, it boomed and shook his world. It reminded him of everything he witnessed. To the sacrifice and violent end they had reached. He shook once more as tears slowly crawled down his cheeks. 

“It's all over isnt it,” he said to himself. 

With the tears, his blurry eyes started to clear. The cloudy sky above stood sentinel to his plight. Watching silently and without remorse. His eyes then drifted to the two beside him. Both were haggard and thin. Covered in dirt and mud. Their brown and black rags were patched up, and the swords they carried obviously from the Golden Tide. 

Kendo, standing a bit further, walked towards him, not willing to make eye contact. His blonde hair, more like a mop than anything else, stood in contrast to his dark skin. Kendo kneeled in front of him. Hesitant to say anything, but he reformed his resolve with a serious look to his face and a nod. 

“It’s okay, now, mister soldier,” his voice was deeper, as though his words carried more meaning to them. “Your sacrifices were not wasted. By the time we got here with the others, there were no more of those monsters. Ya saved us all.”

Jacob nodded his head exaggeratedly. 

Just as the soldier was about to reply, another flash of light distracted him. It was just like the first time. Annoying as all hell, and bright enough to blind. With a deep sigh, he let its words take up much of his vision. The words floated in mid air as he stared at them.

To the two treasure hunters, his far off look held an extreme amount of suffering and pain. It made their chests tighten to see someone so broken and destroyed by war. Instead of bothering him, they decided, with a nod to one another, to give him some time before they carefully suggested to move him away from the thousands of reeking rotting bodies around them. 

System ~

Alastair Havardur ~

Titles ~ Last Survivor, The Golden Tide, Owner of Fernera - Sword of Golden Light, Broken Soul

Class ~ ...Error.. Err- Selection Currently Unavailable

Level ~ 78 … Error… Err- Advancement Currently Unavailable

Skills ~ 

Tier 1 ~ Candle Making (GrandMaster) - 885

Danger Sense (GrandMaster) - 885

Beast Husbandry (GrandMaster) - 885

Farming (Mastery) - 385

Haggling (Master) - 385

Record Keeping (Master) - 385

Beast Connection (Mark) (Master) - 385

Fishing (Intermediate) - 35

Tier 2 ~ Undivided Focus (Master) - 1050

Architecture (GrandMaster) - 2050

Tier 3 ~ Clear Perception (GrandMaster) - 4550

Treasure Illumination (Master) - 2550

Mineral Hunt (Location) (Master) - 2550

Tier 4 ~ Spearmanship (GrandMaster) - 9900

Swordsmanship (GrandMaster) - 9900

Dwarven Earth Greater Affinity 87% (GrandMaster) - 9900

Celestial Higher Greater Affinity 86% (GrandMaster) - 9900

Sun’s Light Great Affinity 53% (Advanced) - 2900

Tier 5 ~ Golden Bulwark (Master) - 20500

Levi’s Pool (Mana Pool - Legend Quality) (Master) - 20500

Tides Wave (Golden Tide) (Master) - 20500 (Partial Lock)

Fire or Flame (Bane) (Master) - 20500

Gadvier’s Woes (Aura) (GrandMaster) - 70500 (Locked)

Points Remaining ~ 46

Do you wish to accept all skills assigned/selected now? Automatic acceptance in 39:47:35 from now.

Yes ~

No ~

“Alastair...Havardur, Alastair,” he said in a whisper. Tasting the name he felt a keen connection too. Yet, there was something foreign about it, as though it wasn't meant for him. What that was supposed to mean, he did not know. 

“E-excuse me, mister soldier. Did you say something?” Jacob said, inquisitively. All he heard was a rough whisper to distant for his hearing to catch. 

For that moment, Alastair had completely forgotten he wasn't alone. His ears burned red, but he was quick to speak. “My name is Alastair, calling me ‘mister soldier’ constantly is quite the nuisance to say the least. Especially considering my humble origins.”

“We wouldn’t dare, mister soldier!” Jacob shouted.

Alastair could only wince as his he felt a migraine taking hold. They were unusually loud and without any reason to be so. Not wanting for it to grow worse or any other effect taking place, he chose to ignore the skills and let the clock run out. But before he could say anything to the others, the ever frowning Kendo interrupted with a mischievous voice. 

“Bah, he’s offered his name, Jacob. We should take the hint and treat him normally. I certainly don't want to continuously lick his boots. And he don’t want us doing so, ain’t that right, Sir Alastair.”

Jacob’s eyes flashed with understanding as he laughed. “Yea, Sir Alastair.” 

Alastair watched the duo with a heavy head. They must be addle minded to continuously act this way. One was far too innocent and naive, that is hurt to watch. The other seemed to be so despondent, even when he attempted a joke, his face still sat at a perpetual frown. 

He sighed with resignation as the two bickered with each other on what his title should me, from Milord all the way to Sire. Unable to stop it, he let out a small smile at their antics. The world maybe all doom and gloom since he woke up, but even he couldn’t help crack a smirk. 

If only that state was possible. Just as quickly, he was reminded of how he had gotten to this point. All the sacrifices that had been made, all the people that had died in horrific ways. He wasn't sure if he was the fortunate one to have survived. For it was more a curse to keep in his memory all those that had fought for an entire races existence. 

Alastair sighed again, this one filled with pain, and closed his eyes, hoping the images would fade away with the light. 

The two stopped their arguing as a tense silence took fold. They looked at each other with frowns, then nodded in agreement. 

“Let’s go, Sir Alastair. It’s best we get away from all the bodies. We got a wagon not to far away from here,” Kendo said as he gestured for Jacob to help him. 

Together they picked up Alastair, who had opened his eyes and nodded in affirmation, and carried him away. Jacob held him by the shoulders and Kendo held tightly to his feet. 

Alastair, on the other hand, held tightly to the orb and sword he carried. He felt connected to them and was unwilling to be separated from the two. They were his final reminder of everything he had gone through and done. A physical representation of his promise to his wife and the millions that had died for the greater good.