Luke sat cross-legged on the forest floor, eyes closed, body still. Calm washed through him, that rare inner state he had trained himself to reach whenever the faint spark of insight stirred. In that space, he could shift perspective, turn problems on their side, see them from angles he wouldn't otherwise. He didn't just imagine his own moves, he placed himself in the mind of the enemy, trying to simulate their thoughts, their reactions, their fears.

His mind wandered through every possible scenario they might face if they tried to attack Bastion. The conclusion was clear: it wasn't worth it.

The effort required to force their way in could mean their end, and Bartholomew wouldn't even need to strike first. He only had to wait, patient as a spider, for prey to stumble into his web.

"Time isn't on our side…" Luke muttered, opening his eyes. He rose to his feet.

Charlie, who had been standing nearby, approached at his signal.

"Summon him," he instructed.

The princess extended her hand. Her skill, Spectral Soldier, flared to life. Wisps of white and black smoke gathered, swelling outward, threaded with eerie green light. A shape took form within the haze until the orc general emerged.

Morvat immediately dropped to one knee before Charlie and Luke.

"Let's begin testing," Luke said, his gaze fixed on the spectral figure.

The resemblance to the old Morvat was uncanny, but there were clear differences. His body constantly shed thin trails of spectral mist, and cracks laced across his skin like fractured porcelain. From those fissures, faint green light seeped, not illuminating, not alive, just raw magic leaking through broken seams. The soldier wasn't translucent, nor intangible. He was solid.

"Do you remember our last conversation?" Luke asked.

Still kneeling, the orc raised his head. "Yes, my lord."

Interesting. He retained his memories from the previous summoning. That meant long-term planning was possible, maybe even teaching him new tactics.

"Show me your hand."

Morvat lifted his right hand, palm facing outward. No wound. Last time, Luke had cut him. The soldier hadn't bled, but the mark had remained, a crack like shattered glass. Now it was gone. Healed. Luke pulled up Charlie's interface, his mind racing through theories based on her other spectral skills. One in particular stood out:

[Spectral Barrier (Rare)]: A translucent barrier that rises to absorb incoming damage, whether physical or magical. It consumes mana while active. While the barrier holds, it reduces damage taken, allowing the Death Knight to withstand brutal blows and devastating spells alike. Fireballs, lightning bolts, and other high-level magic are included. However, its durability has limits. Powerful strikes can shatter the barrier, and maintaining it depends entirely on your mana pool. Use it wisely. Like any defense, it comes at a cost.

The soldier worked the same way. Damage didn't bleed him out, it fractured him, piece by piece, until he eventually shattered. Unlike Charlie, he had no visible HP or MP gauge to measure. Everything would be trial and error. And if Morvat died? Luke had no idea what would happen. The only way to know for sure was to kill him. But Luke wasn't ready to make that mistake. Not yet. He decided to start where he had before, repeating the questions.

"Do you remember how you died?"

"Yes, my lord," the orc said. "I was slain by your right hand… my master's hand."

So, to him, Luke was lord. Charlie, master.

"Do you harbor any resentment toward the two of us?"

Morvat shook his head. "My greatest joy is to serve my sovereigns."

The orc pressed his forehead to the ground, bowing even lower.

Yeah, no way this guy is the actual orc general. That creature would never act like this, let alone be so quiet and restrained.

"If Charlie and I were fighting a powerful enemy, and one of us suffered a grave wound… who would you choose to save?"

The orc lifted his head. "You, my lord. Always," he said, looking directly at Luke.

Luke let out a breath, thoughtful. "And if Charlie and I fought each other? Whose side would you take?"

Charlie's head snapped toward him, clearly displeased.

'I would never fight you'. That was the feeling he picked up through the master and servant bond.

She knows I'm speaking hypothetically, right?

Both of them turned back to the orc.

"I would never raise my hand against my lord and master. In such a case, I would destroy myself," Morvat replied.

Luke's expression hardened. "And if I ordered you to kill Charlie?"

"Then I would obey."

"What if Charlie ordered you to hurt me?"

"Then I would destroy myself," he answered without hesitation.

With each question, Luke was starting to understand the limits of the orc's loyalty. In the hierarchy, he was firmly at the top.

"What are your goals in life now that you've returned from death?" Luke asked.

"To serve my two sovereigns for eternity and help them reach the highest degree of tyranny," Morvat said, sounding genuinely pleased.

Okay, maybe he's still a little crazy, like the old Morvat.

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Who placed the orcs in this tutorial? Where did you come from?"

"I do not know, my sovereign. I am not the true orc," Morvat replied.

Luke had already asked this once before. From what he'd gathered, this really wasn't the original orc. Just a copy, carrying nothing but the echo of their last encounter, knowledge of how he had died, and nothing more. It had been the moment when Charlie's special class activated, recording Morvat's memory like an imprint. That was her hidden skill. It only worked on enemies she had slain, since her class "registered" them. Luke suspected it was tied to the experience she absorbed from her kills.

This wasn't a resurrection. Once he pieced it together, he understood how the echo worked. Charlie's Spectral Soldier was like a blank canvas she could paint upon. It permanently took the form of one of her slain foes, shaped by the memory she had captured. That was how the skill functioned.

The idea reminded Luke of Harry Potter. In the third book, Harry had learned about creatures called Boggarts, which took the shape of a person's greatest fear. Harry's had turned into a Dementor. Even though the Boggart wasn't a real Dementor, it still acted like one and carried a shadow of its power. That was exactly how the Spectral Soldier worked. It became Morvat.

Luke stepped closer to the orc and tried to use Identify. Nothing. No information.

Makes sense. He's not a living being or an object. He's a spell. Just like I can't cast Identify on a fireball, I can't use it on him.

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But there was something else he could try. When Luke touched the orc's shoulder, a system window appeared.

[Spectral Soldier: Morvat] Military Rank: Soldier Skills: [Orc Instinct], [Battle Frenzy]

It was a plain system window, showing only the basics of the specter. No inventory, no HP, no level. Just that. Morvat had only two skills, confirming that this was nothing more than a shadow of the real general. His "level" wasn't even a number, just the designation Soldier. Luke narrowed his gaze, focusing on the word until Identify revealed more.

[Military Rank]: A Specter whose designation is Soldier. The strength of the Specter is defined by its Military Rank. The higher the rank within the army, the more powerful the summon becomes.

That was new.

So Charlie can evolve Morvat's rank? I mean, the same way I've leveled up some skills… maybe if the rarity of her skill increases, his rank will shift too.

Luke studied Morvat's two skills. It was clearly just a fraction of the original's power. The summon didn't have [Berserker Flames], that terrifying skill to ignite his own body in fire, the one Charlie had inherited from killing him.

The first skill:

[Orc Instinct]: The orc's combat instinct is forged by survival in a hostile world. From an early age, they learn to trust their senses, brute strength, and natural aggression to dominate their foes. This skill grants instinctive knowledge of unarmed combat and the use of simple weapons, favoring a savage but effective style.

Luke had tested it before—he pulled a weapon from Charlie's inventory and handed it to Morvat. When the specter struck a tree with the blade, nothing happened. No damage. Which proved the orc's stats didn't synchronize with weapons. Meaning Luke couldn't hand him gear or armor either.

This guy's stuck with his fists.

The second skill:

[Battle Frenzy]: When rage consumes the orc, his body floods with pure adrenaline. Muscles tighten beyond their limits, heart rate spikes, and pain all but disappears. In this state, his speed visibly increases and every strike carries destructive force far beyond the ordinary.

Closing the window, Luke looked at Morvat.

"This reminds me of Aragorn and the Army of the Dead," Luke muttered. "That same eerie green vibe."

"Aragorn?" Morvat echoed.

"Well, in this case, you're an orc specter. Kind of a Lord of the Rings combo," Luke said, stepping forward with his kukri. In a swift motion, he drove the blade into Morvat's skull.

The entire body began to crack like glass. The creature didn't flinch, didn't speak, didn't even show pain before shattering completely a heartbeat later. He had wanted to test it—whether the orc would kill him if ordered, and how long it would take for the summon to respawn, just like the spectral barrier reappeared after destruction.

"At least the skill itself isn't gone. It's grayed out, like the barrier does. Guess it'll take a while to regenerate," he noted.

Better to run this kind of test now than discover the limits of the Spectral Soldier in the middle of a real fight.

"Let's go, Charlie," he said as he started walking again. "I need to get back to the other idiots with a plan."

He sighed, heading toward the second fortress. Soon he'd have to decide whether to launch a full-scale assault on Bastion… or go in alone.

***

Luke returned to the fortress, finding the place in complete silence. The activity in the streets of that part of the city had come to a halt. Everyone had been called inside the fortress due to the risk of being discovered ahead of time.

He gathered the group once more.

"You know, Luke," Jack began cautiously, "I'm not going to tell you to do something you don't want to do. I just think… maybe there's another way."

"Thanks, Jack," Luke replied curtly as they walked the long corridor together.

When the heavy door to the mechanism room closed behind them, the hush deepened. Every eye in the chamber turned toward Luke.

"So, has Snow White made up his mind?" Evangeline asked.

Luke ignored the jab and strode to the table where a wide map of Bastion was spread out. The parchment was weighted by carved wooden soldiers, their shadows stretching under the flicker of lamplight.

"Ever since I came back from the capital and started gathering intel on Bastion for my personal revenge," he said, voice flat but steady, "I've been classifying the greatest threats there. Four names stand out: Ronan, Kruger, Erza, and Bartholomew himself."

Mason crossed his arms and said nothing, though his eyes narrowed.

"We're going to simulate an assault on the place as if we were Marshall and his renegades," Luke continued. "I want everything you've got—every precaution, every detail, every risk we need to account for."

Allison's gaze dropped to the figures on the table. She picked up the carved piece representing Ronan, rolling it between her fingers.

"Ronan's the military commander of everything," she said.

"He showed up in the third year of the tutorial," Jack added. "He's not… well, he's not as bad as Kruger. He's got military experience because of his family. I heard he came to the tutorial to try and land a position that required having a system when he enlisted."

Mason took the wooden piece from Allison's hand. "His class is close-combat, and he's got an epic profession skill that turns his skin into iron. They call him the Iron Wall. His main duties are maintaining the Safe Zone, protecting Bastion, and commanding the army. For years he was the one holding back Marshall's attacks with strategy and sheer stubborn defense."

Luke had already faced Ronan and won. Back then, Luke's class level had been 56 and his profession 50. From what he'd uncovered, Ronan's profession was level 60, and his class somewhere in the 40s or 50s. Which meant that if Ronan went to the capital before they clashed again, he could come back even stronger. Maybe even gain an epic class skill. Something Luke had to factor into his plans.

His eyes shifted back to the map. "Next is Kruger."

"Leader of the hunters," Mason explained. "He commands the squads that eliminate threats outside the walls. His job, aside from defending Bastion by cutting down captains during invasions, is hunting dangerous individuals. He also commands a special group of assassins. There aren't many people with the assassin class out there; if they're not dead, they're working for Kruger.

Jack frowned. "That guy's always been… wrong. He's not like Ronan. He kills for fun."

"In terms of strength, Ronan is raw brute force," Allison pointed out. "The two of them together make up Bastion's main line of defense. They're rarely gone from the Safe Zone at the same time. If one is away on a mission, the other stays close. Always."

She tapped a finger on the map. "If we were going to strike, it would have to be when one of them left. Maybe we could lure one out with a false sighting of Luke?"

Evangeline tapped her chin, then looked at Luke. "You might have beaten them one on one, but together they're far more dangerous. And like you told me once, Kruger didn't use any of his epic skills against you last time. Next time you face him, he won't make the mistake of underestimating you."

Luke regretted not killing Kruger when he had the chance. Not because he feared the assassin, he didn't, but because he couldn't stand knowing the bastard was still alive.

Mason picked up another wooden figure at random. "But the most dangerous and unpredictable one is Erza Grimhart."

He set the piece down on Bastion. "She's a priestess, raised from infancy with the best assassin training imaginable. She lives inside Bastion and leads the maid assassins."

All eyes lingered on the figurine representing Erza.

"In any invasion, we'd have to deal with her," Allison pointed out. "There's no avoiding that."

Mason tapped the piece. "Erza never takes action personally unless Bastion itself is threatened. She doesn't leave the fortress to handle Bartholomew's problems or anything like that. The few times she stepped in were when Bastion faced real danger."

He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at the memory. "During the ant invasion, she sent her assassins to cull the threat, then personally cut down swarms of ants and renegades inside the walls. So if we invade, it's almost guaranteed she'll move against us."

"Why is she like that? Why does she stay there, never hunting down the other mechanisms or trying to complete the tutorial herself?" Evangeline asked.

"All I know is she has no interest in interfering with the tutorial," Mason said. "She prefers to stay where she is. That could change in an instant, but in an invasion we'd absolutely have to deal with Erza and her assassins. She's a natural pillar of Bastion's defense."

"In every scenario, she's always there," Luke murmured. "Like a spider at the center of the web…"

Evangeline picked up another piece and placed it on the heart of the fortress. "And last, of course, is Bartholomew. When I still lived in Bastion, he was the best healer there, better than anyone else at the time, and probably even stronger now. It's likely he's reached the peak rank, maybe and evolved his class."

She glanced around the table, her tone tightening. "Back then he couldn't handle major threats on his own in direct combat, but now? That may not be true anymore. He also has a crown that generates a defensive field of lightning around him. If we invade Bastion, there's no doubt the 'King' will be waiting."

The battlefield lay before Luke in miniature. All the major enemies clustered inside the fortress, entrenched in territory they controlled completely.

"If we invade, it would only be for a single piece of information," Luke said slowly. "In every scenario, a lot of people would die, more of ours than theirs. Two armies tearing each other apart, leaving fewer survivors for the final event of the tutorial. It would cripple us."

He sank into a chair. "The only safe way into that place without losing lives is…"

Everyone leaned forward, waiting.

"…to take advantage of the festival," Luke finished.

The room fell silent.

"So," Allison asked after a moment, "are you going to accept the infiltration or not?"

Luke stared down at the map.

"You're all assuming a stealth plan will go perfectly. But those threats will still be there. The difference is I'd be inside, alone, with all of them."

Risk the lives of many, or risk only his own. That was the choice before him.

Allison pulled the gender shifting necklace from her inventory and set it on the table. "Will you help us?"

Luke's answer was…

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