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Chapter 37: Awakening
Emerging from his grandfather’s dream, Brandon opened his eyes to find his forehead chillingly cold. Gazing up at the hazy sky, he exhaled deeply. In the game, there were ways to break free from mental shackles—equipment and skills that momentarily bolstered willpower, such as his talent: Indomitable.
Yet something deep within him whispered that this wasn’t the optimal solution.
The fusion of Su Fei and Brandon’s memories had created a unified soul, one that couldn’t sever ties with either half. He wasn’t merely one or the other; he was both. If he couldn’t confront Brandon’s weaknesses, how could he ever face his own?
Only by truly understanding himself could he fully embrace his past.
This growth transcended mere mental fortitude—
Brandon’s newfound acceptance of his past self brought immense rewards. He had never realized that his grandfather had personally trained him in swordsmanship. Those memories, buried under a subconscious veil of self-abandonment, now resurfaced, integrating into his very essence.
What kind of swordsmanship was it?
Brandon had suppressed the techniques his grandfather taught him, believing he didn’t deserve them. Yet even so, the innate talent ingrained in him since childhood made him the undisputed master swordsman of the Anzek militia.
Curious, Brandon checked his attributes. The list now read: Militia [Military Swordsmanship (Level 3+1), Combat Techniques (Level 3), Tactical Theory (Level 0), Military Organization (Level 0)].
Training skills couldn’t exceed the character’s class level, but bonuses from equipment and quests weren’t restricted. A Level 4 in military swordsmanship equated to decades of practice for an ordinary person—highly unusual for someone his age.
Yet Brandon felt confident. By fully absorbing his grandfather’s teachings, he could easily progress another 30% toward Level 5. Recalling the elder’s mastery sent chills down his spine—it was undoubtedly Level 10 or higher. His grandfather truly was a legend.
With a mix of emotions swirling in his mind, Brandon sat up and glanced toward the valley’s center. The mist emanating from the Golden Magic Tree had thinned, signaling the weakening of its dreamlike influence. Turning back, he observed Freya and Roma. Freya’s eyes were tightly shut, her brows occasionally furrowing.
Roma’s face was pale but calm.
Thankfully, the situation wasn’t as dire as he’d feared. Now came the next step: injecting belief. As long as everything went smoothly, the Golden Magic Tree wouldn’t be insurmountable. Crawling over to Freya, Brandon pressed his finger to her forehead. Hesitating briefly, he chose “confidence.”
The Golden Magic Tree manipulated negative emotions to ensnare its victims; players needed to counter with positive ones. From Freya’s usual demeanor, Brandon sensed that her outward stubbornness masked inner vulnerability. He hoped this boost would help the future Valkyrie mature through self-assurance.
But as he gazed at the sleeping Freya and Roma, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. They were completely defenseless in this state—how easy it would be to take advantage. Roma’s smooth, flawless forehead stirred an impulsive desire within him.
His heart raced. Quickly, he reined in his thoughts. Though he harbored feelings for Roma, he wasn’t a shameless man. Rubbing his temples, he tried to dispel the chaotic notions swirling in his mind.
He couldn’t help but reflect on his own dream.
Since leaving that dreamscape, his mindset had shifted profoundly. The sense of gaining something while simultaneously losing it left him more mature. He knew there was no turning back. Time’s meaning lay in the repetition of generations—each person must walk their own path alone.
He was no exception.
Understanding Brandon’s aspirations, he began contemplating his own future. He knew the Black Rose War would soon end—it lasted only from late May to July in the game. The nobility had no interest in prolonging the conflict.
This aligned with Madara’s intentions. External aggression was merely a symptom of internal upheaval, but Madara sought to avoid provoking the broader Light Alliance. Retreat was inevitable. With neither side eager for a prolonged war, peace talks were all but guaranteed. Yet these negotiations would resemble farce more than diplomacy. Brandon knew the Eruin he wished to fight for wasn’t the Eruin of today.
He awaited the ascension of the Princess Regent.
Still, he couldn’t afford to do nothing. After the war, the royal family would surely honor certain individuals—heroes to inspire and pacify the populace. Perhaps there’d be a recommendation for the prestigious Bastar Royal Cavalry Academy. But Brandon held little interest in such opportunities. Frankly, he had no desire to join Eruin’s outdated system. However, sending Freya for training seemed like a good idea.
But what about himself? Brandon pondered. Before him lay the beginning of turbulent times. Individual strength was limited; he needed a base, people to rally behind his ideals. With his knowledge of history and the world, he was confident his territory could flourish quickly—but where should he start?
Navigating Eruin’s internal systems? Time constraints aside, he preferred to remain inconspicuous, avoiding detection by powerful factions.
Claiming land outright was equally unfeasible. Instead, he considered the path of a pioneer. Just as in the game, pioneers existed in reality too. Beyond the borders of civilization lay untamed lands ripe for settlement. Since the Aine Dynasty, Eruin had a policy granting pioneers legal ownership of newly discovered territories, with titles awarded based on size.
These titles weren’t hereditary, and most lands reverted to the crown or the Temple after three generations. Still, many flocked to this route—gamblers, adventurers, mercenaries, rogue merchants, even knights and clergy—all seeking advancement.
Thinking of these frontier lands, Brandon grew excited. He knew of several along Eruin’s borders, varying in size but offering viable options. Yet when it came time to choose, our protagonist hesitated.
He cared little for strategic advantages or geographic positioning. Secrecy was paramount, and ideally, he wanted a location tied to one of the later “ruin” territories. Alone and lacking resources, leveraging ancient ruins from the game would save considerable effort.
After some thought, a specific place came to mind. Known in the game as the most legendary territory, it had been tragically destroyed by enemies due to its owner’s mistakes. Yet forums buzzed endlessly about it, speculating what might have been.
Countless posts echoed the sentiment: If Valhalla still stood, how different things would be now.
Brandon couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Hadn’t he entertained similar fantasies? If that legendary domain hadn’t fallen, its potential would’ve surpassed everyone’s expectations. To think such a daydream might actually come true in his hands…
Lost in reverie, he suddenly felt movement beside him. Freya stirred, opening her eyes. Seeing Brandon’s hand on her forehead, she initially froze. But clarity swiftly returned, washing away the confusion. She recoiled sharply, blushing as she stared at him.
Even without words, her expression screamed: Shameless! What are you doing?!
Before Brandon could explain, Freya seemed to recall something. Her cheeks flushed deeper. “Sorry, I…”
“It’s fine. Go wake Roma,” Brandon said lightly.
“Wake her?”
Realizing his slip, Brandon coughed and elaborated on the concept of injecting belief. Simple though it seemed, he hadn’t anticipated Freya’s reaction—her face darkened.
“Why didn’t you use it on Roma first?” she asked anxiously, standing up.
Huh? Brandon blinked, thinking, Isn’t your psyche the fragile one, Valkyrie? But before he could finish, Freya rushed to Roma, lifting the limp Roma.
Roma remained pale and serene, but tears slid silently down her cheeks—
“What’s going on?!” Brandon couldn’t believe Roma was crying.
“I’ll tell you later,” Freya breathed deeply, placing her hand on Roma’s forehead. Nothing happened. Frowning, she turned sharply to Brandon. “Turn around!”
“What?”
“Turn around! Hurry! Don’t look!”
Startled, Brandon complied. Yet his curiosity rivaled Roma. Moments later, he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance. He saw Freya cradle Roma, pressing their foreheads together, murmuring urgently: “Little Roma, wake up. Don’t forget our promise.”
Brandon blinked, surprised. He knew Freya and Roma were close, but he hadn’t expected Roma to harbor her own secrets.
Before he could process further, Freya shot him a venomous glare.
“Sorry, can’t control my eyes,” Brandon stammered.
“You, you’re shameless!” Freya snapped, her face red.
“Sorry, sorry.”
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