Crowne was still lost in thought, his mind drifting back to the figure he had seen earlier. That person had effortlessly blocked the powerful slash he was about to unleash and even managed to wound him. That meant the person was incredibly strong. It clearly made Crowne uneasy.

He did not even notice that an undead ogre had swung its massive club toward him.

BAAANG!

A loud crash echoed, but it was not Crowne's body that got hit. Someone had blocked the club with a sword. In front of him stood a man in a brown cloak, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. The figure did not turn to look at Crowne.

"Do you need my help?" the voice was calm.

Crowne quickly turned, finally realizing he was still in the middle of a fight. He gave a short nod, then drew his sword. "I don't know who you are, but I'll take the help," Crowne replied.

He did not refuse because he was still unfocused in battle. The mysterious figure who had stopped his attack earlier kept bothering his mind. He wanted to finish this fight quickly and find that person. That was why he accepted the help of the brown-cloaked man in front of him.

The two of them attacked at once.

The undead ogre roared, its club smashing into the ground and sending dust flying everywhere. Crowne leaped to the side, slashing at the monster's knee while the brown-cloaked man cut across the ogre's chest with his sword. The undead ogre staggered backward.

Blood flowed continuously, though it healed a few seconds later. Crowne and the brown-cloaked man did not ease their assault. They kept striking again and again. The battle raged on. There was no pause, no mercy.

Even though Crowne's thoughts were still scattered, he fought well. His mind was still filled with the image of the cloaked figure who had intercepted his previous attack. That person truly made him wonder. Why had that man attacked him?

They did not even know each other. Unless... Suddenly, Crowne realized something. He glanced at the undead ogre he was fighting. A possibility flashed through his mind. He was about to draw a conclusion when the brown-cloaked man suddenly shouted at him.

"Focus, or you'll die," the man said firmly.

Crowne snapped back to reality. He took a deep breath. In an instant, his Dwarfwood Chainblade was enveloped by a surge of immense magic energy. He dashed forward and slashed diagonally from the shoulder down to the abdomen. The sound of cracking bones echoed, and the undead ogre's body was split in two.

As the creature's body fell apart, a dark purple undead core floated in the air. It was about to be covered again by the regenerating flesh, but Crowne quickly slashed at the orb.

The orb shattered. At that exact moment, the undead ogre collapsed. Its body no longer regenerated. It did not move anymore. The undead ogre was truly dead.

Suddenly, the entire area fell silent.

Only Crowne's heavy breathing and the whisper of the wind could be heard.

He had won, yet no one celebrated that victory. The soldiers were too stunned by what they had just witnessed.

Without saying a word, without celebrating his triumph, Crowne began helping the other soldiers who were still fighting near the gate of Doomsty City. Together, they managed to take down several undead. These ones were weaker and easier to kill.

[Normal Undead lv.15]

The soldiers looked at Crowne with admiration and gratitude. Those who had been struggling moments ago could now win easily after Crowne's help. He had become an essential figure in the battle.

Several soldiers immediately approached him. Some even saluted him without hesitation, even though earlier they had doubted him greatly.

"Thank you, Sir. Our commander is heading this way. Would you like to meet him?" asked one soldier, wiping the sweat off his face.

They had already reported the situation a few minutes ago. The reinforcements should be arriving soon. Their commander would likely come personally because the report had mentioned that the enemy was an Undead Ogre. That monster was powerful, not something ordinary soldiers could defeat.

The only one capable of killing such a creature should have been their commander, yet it was already slain by a stranger.

"What do you say, sir? Would you meet our commander? He would be delighted to see you. He might even give you a grand reward for your contribution," said the soldier, trying to persuade him. But judging from his face, Crowne didn't seem interested at all.

Crowne shook his head slightly. "No need. I only wish to enter the city. Will you allow that?"

The soldiers exchanged glances. They were supposed to inspect him before letting him in—that was the rule—but it felt wrong to do so now. Crowne had just saved them. Inspecting someone who had just risked his life for them would be disrespectful.

Finally, the soldier nodded. "Please, Sir. After what you've done, you have every right to pass. We won't stop you!"

Crowne nodded. "Thank you."

He gave them a brief look, then walked through the city gate. He entered without anyone stopping him. The soldiers only watched from afar. They would remember Crowne's face well so that if they ever met him again, they could thank him once more.

Without Crowne, everyone there would have died. It could be said that Crowne was their savior.

**

A few minutes later, the sound of marching boots and clanking metal echoed from the north. The reinforcements had finally arrived. Rows of additional soldiers carrying the banner of Doomsty City marched through the dust left from the battle.

At the front walked a tall, broad-shouldered man. His face was partially covered by a metal helmet with small horns on the sides. His sharp eyes radiated authority, and every step he took made the ground tremble slightly. He was the commander of Doomsty City's guards, Captain Orven Kaidra, a man known for his strictness and discipline.

When he arrived, his brow furrowed as he saw no battle in sight. "Where is the undead ogre you reported?" he asked in a stern tone.

One of the soldiers who had been with Crowne quickly ran forward and saluted. "Commander! The battle is over!"

Orven stopped abruptly. "Over?" his brows knitted deeper. "How could it end this quickly? Didn't your report say the enemy was an Undead Ogre? You think that kind of creature can be killed as easily as a rat? That monster is rank B. None of you could have defeated it."

His voice thundered along the walls. The newly arrived soldiers exchanged confused looks, while the ones who had fought earlier lowered their heads, afraid to speak. Orven was known for his temper and for scolding his subordinates harshly, though he never punished them without reason.

Still, his voice was always loud and intimidating, making even brave soldiers nervous when speaking to him.

"Commander…" one dusty-faced soldier said nervously, "the undead ogre has been slain."

Orven turned sharply. "You're joking?" he glared.

"No, Commander," the soldier quickly shook his head. "I'm not lying. We all saw it ourselves. The undead ogre was truly defeated."

Captain Orven narrowed his eyes. "Who did it?"

"Not us, Commander. A young stranger… He came out of nowhere and helped us. He's the one who killed the undead ogre."

Orven was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly. "A young stranger?" he repeated, disbelief in his tone.

"Yes, Commander. He used a wooden sword and a strange chain weapon. He fought the undead ogre alone… later aided by a man in a brown cloak. After the monster was killed, we asked him to wait so he could meet you, but he refused and went straight into the city."

Orven exhaled slowly, somewhere between impressed and irritated. "A wooden sword? Are you sure this isn't some kind of joke, soldier?"

"No, Commander. We all saw it."

When Orven looked at the other soldiers, they all nodded in agreement.

"Where's the creature's corpse?" he asked.

"Over there," one soldier said, pointing to the dead body of the undead ogre.

Orven walked over to it. The ogre's split body was already drying up, the stench of blood heavy in the air. The gash was deep and clean, as if carved by a blade filled with tremendous power. He crouched and examined the remains of the shattered magic core.

"High-level magic," he muttered quietly. "But the residual energy here… it's not from any Doomsty mage. He's an outsider."

He stood again, gazing toward the city gate where Crowne had entered earlier. "A young man with a wooden sword… and a man in a brown cloak. Who are you?"

The soldiers exchanged glances but said nothing. None dared to speak unless Orven demanded it. The air was heavy with silence.

Orven turned to them again. "Find them," he ordered finally. "I want to know who just saved Doomsty City without my permission."

One soldier hesitated. "But Commander… he didn't seem like a bad person. He helped us selflessly."

"Then," Orven said coldly, "let's make sure he truly isn't an enemy. Someone that powerful cannot wander around the city unsupervised. It was your mistake to let him in. If anything bad happens, you will be responsible."

The soldiers immediately nodded, swallowing hard. Sweat dripped down their foreheads.

"Sorry, Commander," they said in unison.

"Don't apologize. I don't need that. Just find those two. That's all I need," Orven said firmly.

The soldiers nodded again. "Yes, Commander. We'll do it."

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