Chapter Thirty-Two: Justification by Works

While casting a healing spell to slowly mend the wound on his arm, Eric opened his class panel and scanned it.

He had miscalculated; he failed to reach level thirty before challenging the boss, and the experience points gained from the kill had overflowed, resulting in a fair amount of waste. However, he didn't mind much. Gaining so many levels in just a few days was already a massive stroke of luck—greed often leads to poor digestion.

[‘Swordsman (Proficient)’ has reached the level cap. Please select a promotion path—]
[Promote to ‘Swordsman (Veteran)’]
[Change class to ‘Heavy Infantry (Apprentice)’]
[Change class to ‘Barbarian (Apprentice)’]

Familiar with the promotion options, Eric had already made up his mind and chose the first one.

[‘Swordsman (Proficient)’ successfully promoted to ‘Swordsman (Veteran)’]
[Trait acquired: ‘Blade Chaser’]
[‘Class Category: Warrior’ promoted to Tier 3]

A Tier 3 warrior didn't mean he could walk anywhere unchecked, but it at least granted him a degree of self-preservation while traveling the continent—especially since he possessed combat experience that even Leslie, a Tier 5 warrior, might lack. When his uncle Edgar had left home to start his own adventures years ago, he hadn’t even been as strong as Eric was now.

Eric scrolled down to the second class category panel and repeated the process.

[‘Acolyte (Proficient)’ successfully promoted to ‘Acolyte (Veteran)’]
[Trait acquired: ‘Justification by Works’]

‘Justification by Works’: When casting divine arts consecutively, the next divine art cast receives a boost.

Eric checked the specific effects of ‘Justification by Works’: after casting five divine arts in a row, the next one would receive a 50% boost. Any skill cast within ten seconds counted as a consecutive cast. A 50% boost to divine arts—whether it was a buff or a healing spell—was the main reason why players following this career path always pushed their Acolyte class to the veteran stage.

"Next, I must strive toward becoming an ‘Ascetic’."

Closing the panel, Eric glanced at the wound on his left arm; it had mostly healed. Looking up, he saw Captain Leslie kneeling blankly before him, watching him heal.

"...You startled me."

Eric waved a hand. "Don't mind it. If you hadn't stabbed me, I would have remained trapped in that illusion, and I wouldn't even have known how I died."

"No, young master, I’m injured too. If you’re done, could you heal me as well?"

"...Oh, wait a moment."

Eric had his own share of wounds, but the one on his arm was the most troublesome. He focused on healing for a while until the wound shrank and vanished completely. He then checked Leslie, who had only minor injuries, but considering the captain’s great contribution, he healed him as well.

As Eric lowered his hands, the two exchanged smiles and let out sighs of relief.

"Thinking back, it was too reckless..." Leslie still felt a lingering fear from the battle. "One slight misstep, and the young master and I would have been finished here."

"But we survived in the end, didn't we?" Eric glanced at the necromancer, whose body had long since gone cold. "Still, you’re right. Even though I was on guard, I still fell for it."

"It’s a good thing the young master had anticipated it."

"Indeed."

Leslie climbed to his feet and checked Fland’s corpse to ensure he was truly dead. He pulled his short sword from the necromancer's jaw, frowning at the corrosion marks on the blade. "Young master, what should we do now?"

"Go call the others over. There are things inside that need to be moved," Eric said.

"Inside... but aren't there traps? How do we get in?"

"Those curse-type traps require the caster to maintain them." Eric kicked the old man's corpse. "Now that he’s dead, the curses have failed."

"I see."

Leslie returned along the path to summon the others. Eric picked up the necromancer’s staff, which floated with a purple tag. The staff looked like a piece of withered bone, topped with a dark green orb clutched in a skeletal claw.

"Fland’s Staff of Death..."

It was the best weapon obtainable during the closed beta. Its name and stats were exactly as he remembered from his previous life. This was the first magical equipment he had obtained through combat—in this world, "magical equipment" referred to items with supernatural power; according to the quality classifications in *Crown of Thorns*, anything above white-tier gear counted as magical equipment.

Unfortunately, he couldn't use this staff, and it felt too ominous; he certainly didn't want to give it to Irene. "But it should fetch a good price."

Eric tucked the staff away and rummaged through the old man's waist, quickly finding a metal key. "This must be it."

With the key in hand, he dragged the withered corpse back to the entrance of the final hall. The lamps burning with green fire had already extinguished. Eric cast a light spell to illuminate the hall and scanned the area. He tossed the old man's body onto the floor ahead to ensure there were no other traps before walking in.

As the final boss room, the hall was quite simple, with almost no furnishings other than the stone throne in the center and the laboratory to the side. Considering they were deep underground, carving out such a hall was no small feat.

Ignoring the laboratory, which was much like the others, Eric searched the far end of the hall and found a corner where a locked iron chest sat.

"Found it. If it wasn't dropped, it must be hidden here."

This wasn't a game where one worried about loot rates or bad luck; once the boss was defeated, it was a full drop. Eric inserted the key he’d taken from the old man and turned it. The lock clicked open. As he lifted the lid, several weapons caught his eye.

[Alan Steel Sword]
*A weapon passed down from the fallen ancient kingdom of Alan. Because it possesses magical power, it has not decayed even after all this time.*
*The blade is thin yet sharp; those who master its techniques can wield it with grace.*
*"The longsword dances in the sky; Alan shall never fall."*
*Attached skill: [Alan Sword Art]*

A warrior’s sword, a mage’s staff, an archer’s short bow, a priest’s scepter... every class had a representative weapon. During the closed beta, he didn't know how many times one had to grind to collect such a set, but now, it had dropped all at once.

Although the quality was lower than the necromancer’s staff—just a blue-tier item—they were still magical weapons, meaning they would not break easily and remained usable even after two hundred years. Eric took them out, kept the steel sword for himself, and set the rest aside. He then rummaged through the rest of the chest—a large pile of gold coins and gemstones.

The sheer quantity and value made Eric’s eyes widen. He couldn't help but scoop up a handful of gold coins, watching them spill back into the chest.

Though the quality wasn't top-tier—there were only a few pure gold "Supreme God" coins, with most being "Charlons" (named after their place of origin, Charlon-Yad) mixed with silver or copper—they were still gold, and not a single silver coin was among them. Eric roughly estimated there were between one and two thousand gold coins, enough to match the annual tax revenue of a large territory.

Where did such a fortune come from? Could Fland have really received a reward from a Duke in the past?

The amount was so large that Eric couldn't treat it lightly. After checking to make sure there was nothing else, he closed the chest and locked it again.

"If the Saintess loves money, I could use this to bribe her..."

Eric drifted in thought for a moment until he heard movement outside. Stepping out, he saw Leslie arriving with the others.

"Young master, how should we handle this place?"

"Smash, break, and burn." Eric pointed toward the laboratory. "There’s no need to take those things. They are potential hazards; destroy them all."

"Understood!"

"Also, there is a chest in the corner over there. It’s quite heavy, so bring more men to carry it back."

"Understood."

As the guards got to work, Eric walked around and sat on the stone throne in the center of the hall. He soon noticed Alana and Sophie walking toward him.

"I never expected Mr. Eric and Captain Leslie to resolve the problem on their own," the Mother Superior said.

"The battle happened so suddenly, I couldn't get away," Eric shook his head. "If Mother Superior Alana had been present, we wouldn't have won so miserably."

Alana had seen the traces of the battle along the way; they clearly testified to how difficult it had been. Especially the dense bone spikes and holes in the rock walls—they made her shudder.

"It is fortunate that Mr. Eric was not seriously injured... Now that all the undead in the mine, both above and below ground, have been cleared, we can finally rest easy."

Eric nodded, looking at the Mother Superior and then at the little nun peering around behind her. He wanted to congratulate the two envoys from the Holy City—in this world, they had survived.

Those who were fated to die were now standing before him, unharmed, and he had been the one to save them. At least for the moment, nothing could make him feel more proud.

Immersed in a sense of accomplishment, Eric stroked the armrest of the throne. His thumb felt a protrusion, and he pressed it unconsciously. His body suddenly sank.

"..."

He quickly realized it wasn't him sinking, but the stone throne itself, along with the surrounding floor, which had dropped nearly ten centimeters.

There was a mechanism on the throne? This was an unexpected discovery Eric had never known about.

"Mr. Eric, what is this..."

Seeing the depth of the descent, he guessed there might be something hidden underneath, so he pressed the protrusion again. The throne descended slowly, and under the astonished gazes of Alana and the others, Eric gradually sank into the ground.

In his eyes, a massive library was slowly rising to meet him.