In the distant horizon lies a black void of endless nothingness. The sky is perpetually shrouded in a murky gray, akin to the darkest of dusks. The gray above churns incessantly, though it is impossible to discern whether it is cloud or fog. Here, there is no day or night, no passage of time.

The forest, devoid of life for eons, stands with its towering trees reduced to mere trunks and thicker branches. Wisps of web-like strands hang from the trees, though they cannot be spider webs, for no spider could survive here. The ground is dotted with swamps, from which gray mud occasionally bubbles up, revealing the skeletal remains of unknown creatures, only to be swallowed back by the mire.

The wind carries a damp chill, bringing with it the stench of decay. This is the otherworld, a playground for the undead and demons.

Sophia has long forgotten how long she has been wandering this forest. She does not remember where she came from, only recalling that the creature named "Dorian" gave her this name. The name "Sophia" instinctively makes her want to retch, though she does not know why. As for vomiting, it feels familiar, but she cannot remember how to do it. After all, what can a skeleton possibly vomit?

Dim, mottled light falls on the ground and on Sophia. Her only desire is to leave this forest, though she does not know why. It must be an instinct.

Sophia constantly feels a trickle of energy coming from the being called "Dorian." She knows she cannot refuse Dorian's commands. There are too many things in this world that Sophia does not understand. Yet this energy makes her feel good, stronger even, though it is too little. It is like a helpless traveler in the desert waiting for an unknown drop of water.

Sophia is insatiably thirsty.

Clutching a rusty longsword, Sophia wanders aimlessly through the forest, having forgotten where she found the sword. She carefully avoids certain areas, her instincts telling her that the presences there are powerful and malevolent. Sophia is clever, always devising ways to cleverly defeat other skeletons, for they carry the energy that she so desperately craves.

One day, Sophia found some bones of excellent quality. After a misty haze passed, these bones replenished her 24 ribs. Sophia felt that she should indeed have 24 ribs. The repair exhausted Sophia's accumulated energy, and without the timely energy sent by Dorian, she doubted she could have faced the first zombie she encountered.

The battle with the zombie lasted long. The zombie's strength was overwhelming, and after losing three ribs, Sophia realized that the zombie could not catch her. So, a skeleton began circling the zombie, occasionally stepping in for a strike, slicing off bits of rotting flesh. Eventually, the zombie fell, and Sophia's ribs were now fewer than twenty.

In the otherworld, other skeletons and zombies seemed to leave each other alone. Sophia did not understand why she felt compelled to attack any solitary figure she encountered. "I am hungry," thought the skeleton.

Without the concept of time, Sophia continued her ceaseless wandering. She did not know how long she had been wandering, nor how much longer she would have to continue.

The forest seemed endless.

Back in the small building, after the battle, Dorian became fascinated with the play-acting skeleton. In the dead of night, the second floor of the small building often saw a man and a skeleton staring at each other. After countless failed attempts to communicate mentally, Dorian finally lost interest.

Dorian had no idea where the skeleton's sword came from, and after studying it for a while with no results, he stopped investigating.

The weather grew hotter, and before long, Dorian's twentieth birthday had passed. It was time to leave the mage academy, with the exams just days away. Over the past few months, Dorian had read more than half of the thirty-plus volumes of continental history, along with a slew of adventure chronicles, travelogues, and various notes.

Three months ago, Ryder had already passed the academy's exams and was now striving to become a mage knight. After all, being a mage would be a waste of his massive build. Grayson, under the old man's training, had become a decent level-five knight, though in terms of faith, father and son should be considered dark knights. As for Reginald and Tristan, their swordsmanship had improved despite their idle ways. Notably, they had spent more money on their equipment than on women, art, and fine wine, significantly boosting their actual combat prowess.

They were not naturally ambitious, but were forced to do so by the situation. After the battle in the small building, when they were looking for prostitutes and robbing women, someone would jump out and fight from time to time. Although the Sword and Blood Rose Mercenary Group was small and not even third-rate, the leader (the dead wizard) was generous and Vivienne had many suitors. There were always some mercenaries who knew the truth and wanted to take revenge.

As the weather heated up, so did tempers. On exam day, Dorian lazily cast two Flame Finger spells and passed, earning himself a mage's robe. That afternoon, he registered at the city's mage guild, officially becoming a low-level mage. If he chose to answer the Etherea Alliance's summons when needed, he could also receive a monthly stipend of five gold coins. However, after reading so much history, Dorian now had grander ambitions.

"Clang," several wine glasses clinked heavily together.

"It's been a while since we had a proper gathering, damn it. Assassins are everywhere. Tonight, we drink until we drop!" Ryder, as big as a bear, towered over even the knightly Grayson. He downed his drink in one gulp. Grayson, his face full of righteous vigor, was already red-faced and reeked of alcohol. As for Reginald and Tristan, they were reasonably handsome, though average among nobles, given their mothers' good looks.

Over the past half-year, the group had shared numerous life-and-death experiences, forging a deep bond.

"Brothers, tomorrow I'm heading to Fort Farle. I won't be able to hang out as much. You guys must visit me often, but travel expenses are on you," Grayson said, looking dejected.

Tristan commented, "Fort Farle? The one near the Demon Forest? Lots of bandits there, and I've heard Valeria Duchy scouts have been active there recently. Be careful."

Grayson took a swig of his drink and replied, "The old man wants me to accumulate some military merit so he can help me advance. Besides, the commander of the knight regiment there is an old friend of my father's. He'll look out for me. He even gave me the family's Dark Elf breastplate this time, ha!"

"Brothers, Fort Farle is a gold mine!" Dorian perked up. He propped one foot on a chair, spitting as he spoke excitedly, "That place is near the Demon Forest and the front lines, teeming with adventurers. With Grayson as a knight captain there... huh? Just a squad captain? No problem, the regiment leader is your family friend, right? We can expand our operations there. Think about it, what do adventurers, monster hunters, and even soldiers need? Weapons! If we open a weapon shop, we'll make a killing! Others might struggle with restrictions, but not us. Plus, those going into the Demon Forest make money by selling monster cores or hides. We might not be able to hunt monsters ourselves, but we can buy their spoils. Those materials, once turned into magical equipment by Lucian, will fetch a high price from adventurers. We'll make a fortune!"

Reginald got excited too. "Fort Farle has two hundred thousand people, plenty of beauties. With Grayson there, we don't have to live like grandsons like we do in the capital, where every official is a high-ranking official. We'll have some clout. I'm in, Dorian, I'll partner with you."

"Your eyes light up at the mention of adventurers. Didn't that girl teach you a lesson last time?" Ryder chuckled at Reginald.

"Damn it, why am I so unlucky? She kicked me in the crotch. I couldn't touch a woman for a month because of that, but I showed her who's boss in the end!" Reginald gritted his teeth."Is that chick still locked up at your place?" Tristan asked."Of course, she's being well taken care of. I wouldn't let her off that easily after she almost made me sterile! So, how about you guys come over to my place tonight?" The group at the table chuckled lewdly.

After more drinking, the group decided to head out. With Grayson departing for Fort Farle the next day, the others planned to pack up and join him in a few days to start their new venture. Lucian, already roped in, needed time to move his lab.

Under the moonlight, the group staggered out of the tavern, their robes stained with wine. As they entered a dark alley, several adventurers, faces masked, silently surrounded them.

"You scoundrels deserve to die! Tonight, I will avenge Vivienne!" The group sighed. They had heard this kind of speech at least seven or eight times before.

Weapons drawn, the masked men charged. One of them, a mage, began chanting a spell.

Suddenly, a crossbow bolt struck the mage's chest with lightning speed—Dorian had earned his reputation as a mage killer. The others drew weapons from beneath their robes, revealing full armor underneath. In perfect synchronization, they all attacked one masked man, who, taken aback, rolled into a ditch, barely escaping death. The scoundrels broke through the encirclement and fled. Amid the chaos, someone scattered a small bag of beans, causing the ambushers to trip and fall, helplessly watching their prey vanish into the night.