Chapter 1

When the young man took the opportunity to leave the bonfire as the chains were unlocked, his companions showed no signs of concern. Even the officer responsible for supervision, who was standing a little further away, merely glanced over casually before turning back.

Even if he wanted to escape, where could he go? All around was an endless desert, and the nearest oasis was several days' journey away. Even experienced and well-equipped travelers could not be certain of finding those oases.

The scorching heat of the day, the bitter cold of the night, and the harsh reality of a lack of water and food meant that even if he could escape from this cruel army, he could not escape the even more ruthless and treacherous desert.

Indeed, after about ten minutes, the young man returned to his original position, sitting by the bonfire. Perhaps he had just gone to relieve himself.

On the bonfire, a snake cut into small pieces and skewered on sticks was still roasting. The snake meat sizzled in the fire, gradually changing color. Although there were no seasonings, for this group, it was a rare delicacy. Everyone remained silent, watching the meat roast over the fire.

The officer seemed to feel that further supervision was unnecessary, so he stood up and walked to another campsite. Despite wearing woolen gloves, he was still chilled by the desert night and kept blowing on his hands to warm them.

Once the officer was far enough away, someone finally broke the silence.

"Tomorrow... I heard today that we will reach the control area of Kalaan tomorrow..."

The speaker whispered in an anxious tone. In the firelight, it was clear he was a bald, muscular man whose chest muscles strained against his crude leather armor. But as he spoke, his face showed deep fear.

"The Undead Legion will surely be waiting for us there... We won't survive tomorrow."

"Undead Legion? Have you ever seen the Undead Legion? Let me tell you, those skeletons are nothing to be afraid of." An old man with graying hair rebuked him. He made a subtle gesture, indicating that walls have ears. The kingdom's scouts were known for their keen hearing and stealth, and who knew if one was lurking nearby?

Besides, even if they knew they would die tomorrow, what could they do? All the water and food were in the hands of the officers. Even if they revolted and managed to escape, they would only die of thirst and hunger in the desert. Compared to such a long and torturous death, a quick death in battle was much more appealing.

"But how can we fight the dead? They are made of bones. Maybe a warhammer could crush them, but what about our spears..."

"Let me tell you, those skeletons are sustained by dark magic. They can move because dark magic replaces the flesh they have lost. But an arrow or a sword can disrupt the magical energy that connects them. So we just need to treat them like ordinary humans. The same goes for zombies. They move because of dark magic, and any attack can disrupt it. The truly terrifying ones are not the skeletons or zombies, or even the bound spirits; the truly terrifying ones are the vampires." The old man explained.

"Sir, how do you know this?" someone asked.

"I was once a Holy Knight of the True God's Church..." the old man replied calmly.

This statement elicited a slight murmur of admiration. People began to respect the old man even more. In fact, since this small group had been gathered together, most of them did not even know each other's names, but they had unconsciously come to see the old man as their leader. His demeanor and abilities had earned the respect of everyone.

For example, the small midnight snack on their bonfire. Not everyone had the skill to recognize and capture a venomous snake that blended with the sand and turn it into a meal.

"But now I am just like you, a condemned prisoner." The old man turned to the young man. "Scar, how did it go?"

The man called "Scar" was the young man who had left earlier. It was obvious that "Scar" was not his real name. However, the old man never inquired about the real names of his team members; he simply called them by their most obvious features, such as Scar, Baldy, or Lefty. Others called him "Old Man" or simply "Boss."

Scar was a tall, muscular man with gray eyes. He shook his head, clearly conveying his meaning.

There was no opportunity. The defenses were too strong, and it was impossible to seize supplies and escape under the cover of night.

The old man's eyes dimmed for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and grabbed a piece of snake meat.

"Listen up, we are just a bunch of criminal soldiers. Victory and glory have nothing to do with us. So, everyone, remember, our only goal tomorrow is to survive. No matter what, no matter the outcome, you must stay alive."

"Also, remember, if we encounter a real vampire, no matter what they look like, do not engage them. Stay as far away as possible, and avoid fighting them if you can."

As the criminal soldiers began to devour the snake meat, in a distant camp, a luxurious large tent, two men in formal attire were enjoying a sumptuous meal at a large table. Two beautiful young women served them, pouring cup after cup of fine wine.

The man seated at the head of the table was a wealthy, obese man, his plate already piled high with bones. His opposite, a man of medium build, dressed simply but with dignity, had barely touched his food, sipping wine only occasionally. They were about the same age, around forty to fifty, but their demeanor and behavior were vastly different. The former was frivolous, the latter stern.

"I have fully understood the Church's arrangements," the fat man belched. "So, for the Church, the outcome of this battle is secondary, and the experiment to test the holy water is more important."

"Exactly, so I hope the general will not waste valuable forces on this meaningless battle."

The fat man shook his head vigorously.

"That is a mistake. I am under orders from the king to lead the army against Kalaan. While the Church has its own plans, the orders I received are clear: to attack the vampire army and destroy them as much as possible."

"True, but the force you command is just the vanguard of the campaign against Kalaan. The vampire army is formidable and should not be underestimated."

"If the Holy Knights do not wish to fight, they can stay in the rear tomorrow. Although the outcome of the battle is not crucial, a victory would be a better choice."

"Since the general has decided, we can only follow your orders."

As the other man left the tent, the fat man drank a cup of wine and snorted disdainfully.

"What Holy Knights, the elite of the elite, I think they are just a bunch of cowards. Tomorrow, we will only reach the outskirts of Kalaan. Even if we encounter the Undead Legion, it will only be the outer garrison. Even if it is a large force, what is there to fear from skeletons and zombies? Use the criminal soldiers in the front and bombard them with cannons from the rear. Once the criminal soldiers and the skeletons are worn out, victory will be within reach..."

The intense heat distorted the sunlight. Kalaan was a hidden nation, lying on the other side of the desert. This desert was a perfect example of its kind, an endless expanse of sand that seemed to stretch forever, blindingly white and glaring.

The criminal soldiers trudged through the sand, their ragged cloaks their only protection from the sun. They moved in groups of dozens, bound by chains around their waists to prevent escape. Mounted officers rode alongside, constantly patrolling the ranks.

Of course, this was unnecessary. The heat, the high temperatures, and the cursed sand had already eliminated any chance of escape. Even if they wanted to run, where could they go?

Scar held his spear, struggling through the sand with the group. The situation was manageable as long as they had water. The greatest problem was their feet; the journey had far exceeded expectations, and most of their boots were worn through.

"Don't be too tense. Sunlight strongly inhibits dark magic, so the Undead Legion won't attack us at noon. If it gets too hot, you can take off your leather armor and..."

A whip cracked across the old man's head, leaving a prominent bloodstain.

"Shut up! If you try to undermine morale, I'll kill you!"

Scar turned to look at the officer, his eyes filled with naked hatred.

"Unhappy? You condemned prisoners, if you look at me again, I'll gouge out your eyes!"

The old man grabbed Scar's hair and forced his head down. The officer left in a huff.

"Boy, don't cause trouble. You'll endanger everyone... I'm fine. This is nothing to me. Stay alive. If you think dying like this is not worth it, then stay alive. There is always hope, as long as you don't give up on your fate, fate won't give up on you."

The two men moved closer together. Because of what had just happened, no one in the group spoke loudly anymore, only the desert wind whistled in their ears.

"Good strength, boy, looks like you've trained... Were you a knight before?"

Scar glanced at the old man but did not answer.

"I can tell at a glance. But a young knight becoming a condemned prisoner... that's not common. Unless, like me, you learned something you shouldn't have... Hmm, what's that hanging around your neck?"

Around Scar's neck, something seemed to be hanging. The old man casually pulled open Scar's shirt and saw a rough copper chain with a pendant. But it was not a metal pendant; it was a stone, a common red stone with a dragon carved into it. The pendant was quite worn. Perhaps because it was utterly worthless, it had remained with a condemned prisoner.

"Blood Dragon... I suddenly remember a rumor." The old man suddenly turned his head. "A secret. It seems the Ryen Kingdom once had a small unit marked by the Blood Dragon... but they betrayed and attacked the king, and were eventually disbanded."