Chapter 12: Act 2 – Sophie’s World
This room, though old, was spotless; the original owner had kept it very clean.
Sophie raised his head and saw the half-skeleton that had fallen when he pushed it over. A pile of bones lay scattered, quietly resting there. These undead scouts’ only casualty was the result of Brandel’s last counterattack before his death. Sophie knew that skeleton soldiers indeed lacked intelligence, but those manipulated by necromancers were very different. The mistake wasn’t the young man’s fault, as Brandel had no clue about any of this.
In times of peace, not many knew this.
The painting split down the middle lay flat on the floor, and the skeleton soldier’s frosty sword lay nearby, causing Sophie to involuntarily glance away briefly—Madara evidently planned to attack as soon as the scouts withdrew, even neglecting to clean up the battlefield.
However, this was consistent with his memories of history.
Eh?
Sophie suddenly raised an eyebrow slightly, as his gaze rested on the bisected painting. He hadn’t been mistaken; there was clearly a hidden compartment on the cut side of the frame.
Wait, an ancestral painting? Sophie suddenly remembered—could this be the famous painting by Buche?
He struggled to support himself on the handrail and walked over, all the while vigilantly listening to his surroundings. Sophie was aware that the entity that had killed Brandel should’ve been a novice necromancer, although considered the lowest tier, but more than sufficient against ordinary people.
In the ‘game,’ low-level necromancers could cast some basic dark necromantic spells and summon skeletons and zombies from nearby graveyards; they were cunning, favoring ambushes, posing a grave threat to those unfamiliar with them.
But Sophie was different, as he probably knew them better than the necromancers themselves—
He bent down and with both hands tugged apart the frame of the painting. With a ‘ding,’ a ring rolled out from within. He couldn’t help but take in a deep breath; the appearance of this ring was all too familiar to him—it was a silver ring that faintly glowed in the dark, bearing the holy emblem of the Queen of Wind besides its general circular form.
Such markings were uncommon in the South of Erluin.
This was the national emblem of Northern Orsoto—
Sophie carefully wiped the ring with his thumb. This was the renowned Ring of the Queen’s Wind, the reward from the ‘Buche’s Painting’ quest. However, the quest disappeared in the next version, and ultimately, very few knew about it, let alone completed it.
Sophie wasn’t among them; he had merely heard stories about it. Legends claimed this ring was a counterfeit of a holy relic belonging to one of the Four Saints, DiluTe. But how had Brandel’s grandfather come into possession of it?
The effect of the Queen’s Wind Ring in the game was +1 dexterity and consumed mana to emit a wind blast targeting enemies in front. It absorbed one mana point every ten minutes within the game. However, whether the same would apply here was uncertain.
Looking at the ring, he was so overwhelmed that he momentarily forgot the surrounding dangers. The appearance of this ring indirectly confirmed his suspicions—this was indeed the world he was familiar with.
Sophie couldn’t help but take a deep breath. His current state was a mix of hope and anxiety, though hesitating slightly, he gradually slipped the ring onto his index finger. Magic rings only take effect when worn on the index or thumb fingers. In Wonze, witches of Tara referred to the area between the index finger and thumb as the “Mystical Zone,” believing it to be the center of human magic accumulation, and most magical gestures evolved from this point as their starting point.
But for Sophie, it was merely an automatic behavior constrained by the rules of the game—nothing more.
‘Clang clang!’
Just as the ring began to take effect, an enormous sound from downstairs startled him, causing him to turn around.
Sophie immediately grew vigilant. This may have been the sound made by the undead—or even if it weren’t, it would attract enemies outside. He dropped the painting without a second thought, instinctively stepping back to press against the wall, and carefully eyed the room below.
He soon spotted a furtive figure.
It was a maiden wearing a simple leather long skirt, who had cautiously crept out. She looked left and right with clear signs of nervousness—not looking up, her hands tightly holding a mason’s hammer, which seemed a bit of a struggle. However, from her demeanor, it appeared she was searching for something.
Sophie couldn’t help but sigh.
He coughed lightly, and though the sound was not loud, in this spacious room, it resonated loudly—
The girl was clearly startled, her face going pale. But to be fair, this young lady could also be considered beautiful. Her chestnut-colored long hair was tied up at the back, exuding a graceful demeanor. But, below her jade-like forehead, her elongated eyes gave off a seductive charm. Her eyebrows tilted slightly upward, her gaze both clear yet restless, with an elegant and straight nose suggesting her independence.
She had a unique temperament, but certainly didn’t match the image of a proper lady. At least, seeing a girl tightly clutching a stonemason’s hammer, her leather skirt with a pouch reminiscent of those used by the southern merchants, it was difficult to believe she was a well-born young miss.
The young girl glanced at Sophie and immediately relaxed. She exhaled in relief, patting her chest with a beautiful smile. “It’s you, Brandel. You really scared me!”
“Miss Romaine, how did you get in?” Sophie saw the girl and couldn’t help but feel a headache approaching.
This was the girl Brandel always admired. She lived with her aunt in the house opposite and often had some rather outlandish dreams, wanting to become a merchant and roam the outside world.
This idea struck Sophie as absurd; being a merchant in Erluin wasn’t necessarily an esteemed profession. The general public even associated some of them with swindlers and thieves.
During the reign of King Anson VI, there was a long history of them conspiring with bandits, causing deep hatred, to the extent they were called “people with two mouths and three hands.”
Two mouths because of their silver tongues prone to deception. Three hands, due to their thievery. They were indeed a great threat to local law and order, and about 80% of the tasks Sophie did as a beginner were related to them.
“I climbed in through the kitchen window, oh, your windows are so small! I almost tore my dress—” the girl complained while straightening her hem.
“No one asked you to enter through there—” Sophie, inheriting Brandel’s memories, had developed some immunity to the girl’s personality, yet still couldn’t help but criticize inwardly.
“That wasn’t what I was asking,” he couldn’t help but shake his head, “I want to know why you’re here in the middle of the night!”
“I was worried about you, Brandel,” Romaine responded while glancing around, her curiosity evident, “Did you see that skeleton?”
She noticed? But Sophie observed the Miss’s gaze landing on his chest.
“Are you injured?” the future young merchant leaned her head, blinking her eyes.
“Yeah…”
“Let me see,” she grabbed up her hem and came up the stairs in a few quick steps, forcing the young man’s hand away from the wound, “Move your hand, stop being so ridiculous, you could infect your wound—!” The girl complained and then looked at Sophie’s wound.
She exhaled sharply, raising her head, “Such a serious wound.”
Sophie felt the girl’s cool hand gripping his, causing his heart to race slightly. Although he knew this was Brandel’s emotion, he didn’t actively intervene—
“It’s fine…”
“Fine? Don’t kid yourself!” The merchant girl shot him an exasperated look and fished around in the leather pouch hung from her skirt, “Wait a minute, I think I had some bandages around…”
Sophie watched her, with some amusement.
He knew that Miss Romaine’s pouch contained all her treasured items. The majority of them had been bought with Brandel, consisting of peculiar trinkets like seashells, colored glass beads, copper whistles, ancient coins, etc. Although they weren’t worth much, these items were rare in this area.
The young future merchant’s greatest hobby was shopping for these treasures among old goods. Despite neither of them having much money, Romaine always managed to purchase some cheap and desirable curiosities she loved.
He held Romaine’s hand and shook his head, “Go inside, it’s too dangerous here.”
“I’m not afraid of skeletons,” she looked at him briefly, pulled out a first aid box, “Do you know how to bandage? I don’t.”
Sophie opened the box, took out the bandages and cotton gauze, and paused for a moment. He had always been looking for emergency supplies, as he subconsciously still considered this world to be a game. In the game, once a bandage was applied, the wound would automatically clot and heal. However, now he realized that bandaging in reality was a specialized skill, and merely wrapping the wound a few times wouldn’t suffice.
“Let me try, Brandel?” Miss Romaine looked at him, eager to try.
“Absolutely not.” Sophie quickly refused; one couldn’t be reckless with one’s life.
He suddenly felt that doing as in the game might not be a bad idea. If it didn’t work, blame destiny. He bit one end of the bandage into his mouth, then undressed, wrapping the bandage carefully around the wound, a skill he had mastered in the game, ensuring it wasn’t tied too tightly.
However, he stiffened.
He saw a faint green number, +1 slowly rising from his wound.
At that moment, Sophie’s mind was as if bombarded by a heavy cannon, overwhelmed and unable to decide his next step. But soon, he regained his wits and chanted in his heart: “Attributes, attributes, show me!”
With a mix of anticipation and fear, he waited. After about a second, a faint set of data sequentially appeared on his arm, thigh, joint, body, and heart.
Strength 1.0, Agility 2.0, Constitution 0.9.
Another set of data floated in his vision like a ghost: Intelligence 1.1, Willpower 1.3, Perception 1.0.
Absolute Strength 1.0, Elements (Uncivilized)—
Below this set of data, row by row of words and numbers cascaded like a waterfall, forming a page that seemed surreal: Brandel, male human, level 1 (physical, melee system.)
XP: 1 (Civilian Level 1: —, Militia Level 1, 0/3.)
Health (Weak): 60% (Bandaged status, recovers 1 point health daily.)
Job—
Civilian [Basic Knowledge (Level 1), Geography Knowledge (Level 0), Local Knowledge (Level 1)]
Militia [Military Swordsmanship (Level 1), Combat Skills (Level 1), Tactical Theory (Level 0), Military Organization (Level 0)].
Indeed, indeed it matched!
Sophie couldn’t resist wondering if a regular person winning five million would feel like he did at this moment? Could it be a dream? It certainly wouldn’t be, for in dreams, one wouldn’t possess such clear and rigorous logic, and few people suspect dreams within dreams themselves.
But am I still in the game?
It didn’t align—history in the game had already reached Year 19 of the Second Era.
The young man felt his mind was a mess, as if a flood of thoughts had rushed in, and his head spun. Yet Sophie shook his head; he knew it was all true! He had read countless stories of people time-traveling to game worlds. He wasn’t the first, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last either.
Lady Martha, do you truly exist?
Sophie prayed earnestly to the only supreme deity of this world, staring blankly at the projected virtual data on his retina, and couldn’t help but question himself again: Isn’t this your world, Sophie? What else do you want?
Yes, as a seasoned warrior of over 130 levels, what else could he possibly desire? Experience, he had it. Precognition, he possessed it too.
If even with all this he couldn’t control his own fate, then he could genuinely feel shame to the point of suicide. But frankly, it felt great to be brimming with confidence, truly wonderful.
—
