Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer

A strange silence followed the explosion. Smoke curled upward, hanging in the cold air like fading breath. The battlefield was quiet, too quiet until they moved.

One by one, the four Class S warriors looked down at their hands.

Their fingers trembled at first. Then, they stilled. A faint shimmer ran across their skin. A subtle glow, white and silver, pulsed from their bodies like a heartbeat. Their muscles tensed, as if power was pouring into them from somewhere unseen.

Their breathing slowed. Not from exhaustion but control. Calm, unnatural control.

Gromma clenched his fists. "I feel... light."

Silveth touched the edge of her blade, then vanished from sight, reappearing behind Kaltros without warning. She blinked. "Faster than before."

Kaltros raised both hands. Frost danced across his palms, without him casting a spell. "I didn’t use magic... and yet..."

Lander stood still, lips curling into a slow smile. "This isn’t ours. Seemed like heaven favored us?"

For a moment, they didn’t speak. Just stared at one another, feeling the energy in their veins. It wasn’t just strength. It was something else. Bigger, colder and almost divine.

Then Gromma laughed. Not loud, but deep, confident.

"If this is what we are now... I could crush a kingdom with one hand."

Silveth grinned, tilting her head. "Even the Velcro King would kneel."

Kaltros, who rarely smiled, now did. It was small. Arrogant. "This power... makes everything else seem boring."

Lander let out a low chuckle, brushing dirt off his armor. "We’re not Class-S anymore. We’re gods."

Meanwhile, from the high walls of Spawnhold, the battlefield looked distant, like a story unfolding on another world. But the light that burst from the sky just moments ago was impossible to ignore. It was bright enough to light up the clouds.

The shockwave reached even here. The soldiers flinched. The air felt... different.

General Marvik narrowed his eyes, fingers gripping the stone wall.

"What was that...?" someone whispered behind him.

Marvik didn’t answer right away. He was still watching. But he felt it, deep in his chest. A shift. A rise in pressure. The power below had changed.

He spoke without looking back. "They’ve grown stronger. Suddenly."

Elder Simon and Denise stood behind him. Both were silent for a moment.

Denise was the first to speak. Her voice is low. "You feel it too?"

Simon nodded slowly. "I do. It wasn’t natural. Did the heavens... favor them?"

A murmur ran through the nearby commanders. Doubt. Fear.

Denise looked toward the frontlines again. "The Rookheim soldiers’ numbers are down. If we combine our forces with Isaac and his... well ’bugs’ there’s a real chance. A high one."

But the general’s jaw tightened. His voice came out firm. Cold.

"As your next highest leader," Marvick said, turning just enough to face the commanders and soldiers, "I order that we remain in our positions."

Then, without saying it aloud, he finished the thought silently to himself:

’Unless the farmer dies.’

Simon flinched. "But..."

Marvik cut him off.

"No."

He turned back to the battlefield, face unreadable.

He hated how easily Isaac took the spotlight. The arrogance. The way the king allowed him without question.

If Isaac won this alone, the people would call him a savior. Again.

Marvik would not let a no-name farmer rise above the chain of command, not while he still had authority.

The silence that followed was heavy. No one dared speak further.

Back on the battlefield...

The wind grew still.

Isaac narrowed his eyes as the four stood in front of him, now different. Their presence felt heavier and unnatural. As if something sacred had whispered power into their veins.

Then, without warning..

Boom!

Gromma charged in with a wicked grin, swinging his heavy chain like it weighed nothing.

Isaac blocked the first strike with his sickles, but the force still pushed him back, boots dragging through the dirt.

"You’re slower now, farmer," Gromma laughed. "Are you finally breaking?"

Before Isaac could respond, Silveth blurred to his side, daggers flashing. "Try to keep up, will you?"

Clang, clang, slice!

Isaac parried two strikes but missed the third. A shallow line opened across his forearm.

Kaltros raised a hand, calm and steady. Ice began crawling along the ground. "Don’t worry. We’ll make this slow," he said softly, forming dozens of sharp spikes beneath Isaac’s feet.

Isaac jumped, twisting mid-air, only to feel Lander’s boot slam into his back.

He crashed to the ground.

"Tired already?" Lander smirked. "Don’t die yet. I’m starting to enjoy this."

Isaac growled, rolling back to his feet. He dashed forward, sickle swinging at Silveth but the assassin was gone before the blade landed.

Crack!

A blast of frost struck Isaac in the ribs. His breath hitched. Cold burned through skin and bone.

He turned just in time to see Gromma’s spiked ball chain whip toward his face. He ducked, but it clipped his shoulder. Flesh tore. Pain flared.

Silveth appeared again, this time behind him. "Try not to blink."

Two blades jabbed toward his side. Isaac blocked one, but the other tore through his shirt and stabbed into his side.

He grunted, stepping back, just as Kaltros raised his hands again.

A wall of ice shot forward like a tidal wave. Isaac leapt up, but Lander again met him in the air, grabbing him by the neck.

"You look smaller from up here," Lander muttered, and threw him down like a stone.

Boom.

Dust rose.

Isaac stood again, breathing hard. Bruised.

"Still standing?" Gromma laughed.

"You’re tougher than most bugs," Silveth added.

Kaltros gave a slight nod. "Impressive."

But they weren’t done.

The four stepped forward, together.

Isaac braced, tightening his grip.

"Let’s end this," Lander said.

The next second was chaos.

Chain. Blade. Ice. Flame sword. All came at once.

Isaac deflected the first strike, then the second, but the third tore through his thigh. The fourth cracked against his jaw.

Then, four hits landed at the same time.

One in his chest.

One in his side.

One deep across his arm.

One slicing near his ribs.

Isaac stumbled back.

Blood spilled down in thin lines.

He didn’t fall. But he stood still. Breathing slowly. Staring at the crimson dripping from his body.

[Energy Level 31%]

[Regeneration Activated]

His body tried to heal, but the wounds were deep. Slower. Pain is heavier.

The four watched him.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Boasting.

Then Isaac smiled too. Just barely.

"...Oops. I bled."