Chapter Three: The Anchor Point

Madam Winnie, in her fifties, was the head maid of the Lord’s manor. Though an ordinary human, her abilities were impressive—efficient and meticulous in her duties, she managed the diverse group of maids under her command with flawless order.

Therefore, tidying up two guest rooms was no challenge; she completed the task swiftly.

After settling the two envoys from the Holy City, Madam Winnie made her way to another room within the manor to report to the young master, freshly cleansed of bloodstains.

Just as she finished her report and was about to leave, a murmured voice came from behind.

“…What time is it now?”

“Almost ten o’clock, Young Master Eric.” Madam Winnie turned quickly, her gaze flicking to the wall clock. “Shall I prepare lunch early?”

“Hm?… No need.”

Eric, seated, came back to his senses and glanced at the time. “Nothing else for now. You… um, if the abbess wakes up, notify me immediately.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

Madam Winnie closed the door behind her and left. Eric rose and paced around the room before stopping by the window, staring out at the blue sky, rolling his eyes.

“This is killing me… What time is it really?”

Eric wasn’t concerned with the exact hour; what he sought was his position on the timeline marked by memories from his previous life.

He knew a series of events were about to unfold—events powerful enough to reshape the entire continent—and roughly understood their cause and effect. But the problem was, he hadn’t recorded the precise timing of those events.

—Who playing an online game would bother memorizing the exact dates of background lore before the main storyline?

Yet he now lived within that very background and desperately needed an anchor point to pinpoint his place in time, so he could gauge how much time remained to prepare.

The more he pondered, the more confused he became. In frustration, Eric grabbed paper and pen, listing the key known events in chronological order.

“This feels more intuitive.”

Staring at the clear timeline he’d drawn, Eric picked up a quill and placed a question mark between two events: [Irene becomes the Holy Maiden's successor] and [Irene becomes the Holy Maiden].

The most crucial and ambiguous question was how much time separated these two milestones.

In other words, how much longer the current Holy Maiden—now an elderly woman in her eighties—might live.

But no reliable references existed to answer this.

As background lore for the main storyline, these details were deliberately vague in the game—ambiguity allowed the developers to recycle content when new ideas ran dry.

“Three years? Five years? How can one guess that accurately?”

Eric scratched his head, deep in thought. He couldn’t ignore the question, because adding even a year to its answer indicated when the demons would next march south.

The core theme of the online game *Thorned Soul Crown* was the conflict between humans and demons.

“Demons” was a blanket term humans used for certain humanoid races inhabiting the far northern reaches of the continent. They had ashen skin and resembled dark elves, but the biggest difference was the horns growing from their heads.

—This was the description from the lore books. Eric had fought demons and dark elves in-game and knew the actual differences were more significant.

Organized in tribes, the demons had once been united under the iron rule of the Demon King Digot a thousand years ago. They conquered most of the Gaia continent, enslaving humans, dwarves, and elves alike for nearly two centuries—a period known as the “Dark Age.”

After the Demon King’s sudden death, internal strife splintered the demons, and they were driven back to the far north by united humans and other races.

The founding war of the Deran Empire occurred during that time.

“At this point, the new Demon King should have been enthroned for quite a while.”

Recalling the main storyline, Eric judged that given the scale of the demon invasion, the tribes in the icy north were likely reunited and expanding rapidly, all while humans remained unaware, awaiting the moment to push south.

“If there’s enough time…”

Eric tapped the table, eyes fixed on the [Demon invasion southward] mark on the timeline. Just before it lay the [Fall of the Black Ice Great Wall].

The Black Ice Great Wall was the largest and oldest military fortification between the empire and the northern demon lands, stretching hundreds of miles and flanking two bays, completely blocking any land approach by the demons.

Eric remembered a quest from a veteran soldier who said that the demons’ smooth southern advance was mainly due to sabotage within the Black Ice Great Wall, leaving the empire unable to deploy troops in time.

If this was true, and there was still enough time before the invasion, Eric could prepare on multiple fronts, potentially altering the future’s course.

Otherwise…

Eric sighed deeply.

He kept staring at the timeline. When he finally looked up, it was already noon.

Unable to find an anchor point, guessing further would be futile. Eric left the room and saw a maid waiting in the corridor. He casually asked, “Has the abbess woken up yet?”

“Huh? I don’t know… I’ll go check now!”

“No need.” Eric stopped her, deciding to see for himself.

“Young Master, lunch…”

“I’ll deal with that later.”

The abbess was probably still pretending to be unconscious.

Eric headed toward the guest rooms in the manor, already forming a conclusion.

He had greeted Madam Winnie, who promised to notify him if the abbess “woke up.”

She was maintaining a refusal to communicate.

Eric felt a bit helpless but understood: the abbess carried the Holy Maiden’s orders and had come for Irene. After Eric’s sudden outburst, she might have been lucky not to receive a holy punishment on the spot.

Feigning death and waiting for a response from the Holy City was the safest choice.

Still, Eric held a glimmer of hope: since she hadn’t exposed him outright on the plaza’s dais, she likely didn’t want to escalate matters beyond repair.

Unwilling to bear an inexplicable burden, yet unwilling to completely offend the Lord’s manor—the working-class Eric from his past life understood this mindset all too well.

He had no other demands; he just wanted to connect through her to the Holy Maiden.

He intended to convey this when he reached her.

As Eric walked, he noticed a carriage approaching the estate through the corridor window.

It was Lord Edgar’s carriage.

He decided to see his uncle first. The spectacle on the plaza must have shocked him; he needed some reassurance.

Downstairs at the gate, the carriage soon arrived and stopped before him. More than just the count stepped out.

“Eric?” Edgar’s expression was complex and surprised to see his nephew waiting.

He immediately introduced another passenger: “This is Father Roy from Lamair Monastery.”

Seeing the priest’s robe, Eric’s heart sank.

Could the monastery have received some news and planned to take the two nuns away?

But Father Roy spoke first, asking about the miracle Eric had caused on the plaza.

“...Though many witnessed it, unfortunately, I wasn’t present. If you have time later, Mr. Eric, I’d like to invite you to the monastery to preach to the brethren... It would be even better if you could elaborate on how the supreme deity Yela bestowed her divine oracle upon you.”

Invite him to preach?

Preach what—the priest’s PvP tactics?

Eric opened his mouth, glanced at his uncle, and said, “If I have the chance…”

Though the count had seen the so-called miracle firsthand, he seemed skeptical of the idea and quickly changed the subject.

“Father Roy is here to see the Holy City envoys.”

“Oh, right. I nearly forgot. There have been some undead sightings in Vale.”

Father Roy took over the explanation.

“The local monks couldn’t handle it and requested assistance. Unfortunately, the combat monks responsible were away these few days... I heard that Sister Alena, one of the Holy Maiden’s envoys, used to be a combat nun, so we thought to ask her to take a look.”

Eric suddenly froze.

Noticing the change in his nephew’s expression, Edgar explained, “Combat nuns are...”

“I know what that means,” Eric nodded, suppressing his excitement.

He asked, “So you’re certain the undead appeared in Vale?”

“Yes,” Father Roy confirmed.

“Is it the abandoned mine north of Vale town?” Eric pressed. “The one where the fence collapsed due to heavy rain a few days ago, and that’s when they were discovered?”

Both Edgar and Father Roy exchanged surprised looks.

“How did Eric know that?” Edgar asked.

Eric didn’t answer but pressed his palm firmly.

—The anchor point he had sought for so long was right here: himself.

Dante County’s Vale town, the abandoned mine’s undead surge—this was the storyline from the final closed beta test of *Thorned Soul Crown*, the game Eric had started playing.

The closed beta lasted one week, only opening the Vale town map in Dante County. The main quest was to eliminate the wave of undead emerging from the abandoned mine and ultimately defeat the mastermind deep in the underground tunnels.

After the official launch, Eric had visited the area. According to villagers, the undead appeared seven years ago, and by then the imperial capital had already fallen over three years prior.

In other words, less than four years remained before the demons’ invasion.

“…Could it be that the goddess Yela revealed this to Mr. Eric?”

Eric snapped back to attention and saw Father Roy looking between him and Edgar, disbelief written across his face.

“Yes... The goddess noticed this when she descended and told me.”

Eric hid his complicated emotions and decided to bluff the priest for now.

“Actually, I’m about to meet the Holy City envoys. I’ll inform them that I’m handling this matter.”

Father Roy had no objections, though he was eager to discuss the oracle in greater detail.

Edgar also wanted to talk with his nephew but understood priorities. He invited Father Roy to the parlor for tea while waiting for the Holy Maiden envoys’ response.

Eric headed alone toward the guest rooms.

“Less than four years…”

The brevity of the time left caught him off guard.

Though he hadn’t found solid evidence before, Eric had an unreliable personal benchmark:

Even if Irene was exceptionally gifted, transforming from a novice to a notorious witch should take at least five or six years, right?

Yet in just a few short years, Irene had become a sorceress powerful enough to obliterate a quarter of the imperial capital with magic?

She was terrifyingly formidable…

Eric didn’t know whether to be proud of his sister or mourn the empire’s dwindling days.

But one thing was clear: he had to stop all this from happening.

He was no longer a mere player passing through. He was one among thousands born and raised in this world.

He was Eric, descendant of Kiminor, the founding knight of the empire—heir to this city and its lands.

Even with memories from a past life awakened, he still remembered the responsibility instilled in him since childhood:

To protect the people of this land.

Lowering his gaze, Eric looked at his sword hand and slowly clenched it into a fist.

“Determination alone isn’t enough.”

Ideals were noble, but without a foundation in reality, they were empty words.

A distant heir of a frontier land couldn’t help him much in the short term. He needed to acquire the identity of the Holy Maiden’s successor.

The Holy Maiden held a unique and exalted position within the church, revered yet lacking corresponding power—honor without substance.

—And he just happened to possess the ability to turn “honor” into “substance.”

Eric stopped before the corridor leading to the guest rooms where the two Holy City envoys stayed.

At the door of one room, little Sister Sophie paused, looking at him with a face that clearly said, “This is bad.”

In her hand, she held a letter.