Luke handed her the crocodile chestplate and a pair of reinforced gloves.

The moment Charlie equipped the pieces, something shifted. This wasn’t just some basic equip animation. The armor… molded. Assembled. It locked into place, closing over the bones like synthetic muscle, filling every gap with unnerving precision. Every plate, every joint, every segment snapped together as if it had always belonged. It didn’t stop there. The metal merged seamlessly with the boar-leather pants and velociraptor boots, reinforcing every fiber, every stitch, forging everything into a single, flawless extension of her body.

No exposed ribs. No open joints.

When it finished, what stood before him wasn’t a skeleton anymore. It was a knight.

Tall. Sharp. Fully armored. A silhouette built for war. Plate hugged the frame perfectly—curved hips, armored chest, reinforced limbs. The only thing left untouched… was the skull. White. Smooth. Expressionless. Hollow sockets burned with ghostly green light.

Luke crossed his arms, scanning her. “The armor gave you… hips, chest, a full figure,” he muttered. “Honestly? That’s kinda amazing. You look completely human now. All you need is a helmet.”

Charlie tested the weight. Rolled her shoulders. Swung her blade. Fluid. Perfect.

She looked… right. A knight forged from bone and steel.

But Luke didn’t have time to admire the transformation. He needed to move—fast—before the bandits realized one of their own was missing.

He opened her system menu and navigated to Available Skills. Three options blinked at him.

[Shield Proficiency (Uncommon)]: To protect one’s master and hold the front lines, the knight learns how to wield shields with deadly precision. Increases block efficiency without sacrificing offensive output.

Luke frowned.

Useful… but she didn’t have a shield. At least not yet. Right now? Useless.

[Crescent Slash (Uncommon)]: A slashing technique that strikes in a horizontal arc, cutting through multiple enemies at once. The knight’s blade moves with precise speed, slicing anything in its path.

Now that was interesting.

Perfect for crowd control. Especially in close combat.

[Warrior’s Eye (Uncommon)]: Through countless battles, the knight sharpens their perception. Recognizes attack patterns and exploit weaknesses, improving evasion and opening enemies to devastating counterattacks.

Luke squinted at the screen.

One skill taught a new fighting style.

Another offered immediate offense.

And the last improved battlefield awareness and long-term advantage.

His choice was already made.

[Princess Charlie has learned a Class Skill: Crescent Slash]

He left her two unspent attribute points untouched—for emergencies.

Then his gaze turned back to the bandit camp.

Time to move.

***

Luke was watching the camp from the trees, hidden among the shadows.

The bandits hadn’t noticed that one of them had disappeared yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Luke had waited a few days for one reason: confirm if they were really Wild Zone bandits and if there were others nearby. Attacking and running into reinforcements wasn’t an option.

What he confirmed was exactly what he expected. They were bandits. Criminals who specialized in ambushing people near orbs, robbing anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. And of course, they were fully prepared to kill anyone who resisted.

These were not good people. Not in Luke’s eyes. They didn’t deserve to live.

Because if someone back then had had the guts to do what he was about to do, maybe his mother would have survived her tutorial.

Luke scanned the camp again. Originally there were thirteen. Now there were twelve. Charlie had just taken one out.

He counted. Eleven were in the camp. One was inside a tent, sleeping.

It was time to move.

His plan was to strike while most of them were asleep, but there was a problem. They didn’t follow fixed shifts. Sometimes one slept. Sometimes three. Sometimes none. Completely random.

They were too comfortable. Too used to the false sense of peace in their territory.

They knew no one would dare. At least, not any regular person from the Safe Zone. The soldiers under Bartholomew didn’t really care about bandits as long as they weren’t causing chaos inside the Safe Zone.

And honestly, it made sense. Why send troops to deal with bandits when there were bigger problems to worry about?

Besides, the gangs didn’t attack each other. Each one had its own turf. Something to do with Marshall and the Renegades. They had set up some kind of order between the factions. Even if they hated each other, they followed certain rules.

But Luke didn’t care about any of that.

He moved carefully, circling around the camp’s perimeter.

Makeshift alarms, vines tied to cans, were strung between the trees. Meant to catch beasts, monsters, or people.

Luke climbed one of the taller trees. Sat on a sturdy branch. Watched. Memorized every position.

Out of the eleven, he could pick out a few classes. At least three were archers. Four were mages. The others were some kind of melee fighters. Could be warriors, knights, mercenaries… or thieves. One of them was carrying a machete.

So he ranked the threats. The archers and the mages were the real problem. Ranged attacks. Especially magic.

“I’m telling you, man. Focus on becoming a crafter and learn how to brew. That guy Joe opened his own tavern near Bastion,” said one of the archers, getting up from the campfire.

“And how the hell am I supposed to level doing that, genius? I don’t even have the materials to practice. Should’ve picked something else. Screwed myself big time,” the other snapped, clearly frustrated.

“Stop whining.”

The first one walked toward the forest.

“You’re a damn lumberjack. Just cut trees. How the hell am I supposed to make booze? Pull brewing equipment out of my ass?” the frustrated one grumbled.

The other ignored him and kept walking, unbuttoning his pants.

“Piss somewhere else!” shouted a third.

“Bunch of crybabies,” the archer muttered as he stepped up to a tree.

The moment he was about to start pissing, something blew across his face.

He looked up.

And then…

Luke hung upside down from the tree branch like a bat.

His hands dropped fast. Both kukris crossed horizontally over the archer’s throat. It lasted only a moment. The man’s eyes went wide. Then the blades sliced clean.

A faint, wet gasp escaped as his hands instinctively flew to his neck. His body collapsed backward. But Luke released from the branch, catching him before he hit the ground and made noise.

[You have slain a Human – Lvl 8 (Archer – Lvl 14)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

He dragged the corpse quickly into the bushes and laid it down.

Ten left.

There wouldn’t be another chance like this. They would realize something was wrong soon. He needed to move fast.

Luke circled around the camp, keeping low. Two mages sat off to the side, playing something that looked like cards. On the opposite end, the melee fighters were chatting. One of them was sharpening a weapon.

The other two mages were sitting by the fire, and the last two archers were posted as sentries. Each one perched on a rock, watching over key angles.

Crouching, Luke grabbed a stone and tossed it. It clattered against a tree.

The sentry archer snapped his head toward the sound.

In that instant, Luke hurled a kukri with full force. The black blade spun through the air and buried itself into the archer’s face.

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[You have slain a Human – Lvl 4 (Archer – Lvl 9)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

Luke dashed forward, leaping in one fluid motion. As the man toppled backward, Luke caught him mid-fall. The body was heavy, but he managed to lower it without noise.

Footsteps.

Shit.

No time to drag the body into the forest.

He grabbed the corpse and slipped into a nearby tent, dropping it inside. The footsteps grew closer. Someone was coming.

Damn blood on the ground!

Luke peeked out. A clear trail of blood led right to the tent. They were going to notice.

He rushed back inside, yanked the archer’s jacket off, and threw it on. Grabbed the man’s bow. Then stepped out of the tent and climbed onto the rock where the sentry had been.

The footsteps approached.

“Cold as hell tonight,” the man muttered.

Luke said nothing. The man’s eyes drifted downward.

“What the fuck is this?” he blurted, staring at the blood trail.

Luke lunged, kukri aimed for the neck. But the man dodged, throwing his hand forward.

A mage. Fireball forming.

Luke dashed. Drove the blade straight into the mage’s chest. Buried it deep into his heart.

The mage choked. Eyes wide. Blood bubbled from his lips.

[You have slain a Mage – Lvl 6 (Mage – Lvl 13)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

The mage’s hand faltered, but the fireball still flew. It shot wild, slamming into a tent.

Explosion.

“Shit,” Luke cursed as flames burst up.

The entire camp heard it. Heads turned. Eyes locked onto the fire.

“Attack!” shouted the distant archer, raising the alarm.

Luke let the mage’s body fall and sprinted toward the tree line.

“Sound off! Who’s alive? Confirm your names!” someone yelled.

Luke ducked into the bushes.

Crap!

They had countermeasures. Calling names. Forming up.

Everything went wrong.

Luke couldn’t let them get organized. If they did, it would only get worse.

Taking a deep breath, he burst from the bushes, hand reaching down to the holster strapped to his leg. Daggers materialized in his grip. He threw three into the air and duplicated them. Six total. The blades scattered, clattering across different spots in the camp.

“I heard something,” one of the fighters shouted.

Luke sprinted toward him. The man had his back turned. A kukri flew.

The man screamed. Luke threw the second one.

[You have slain a…]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

He ignored the notification. Kept running.

“Group up!” someone yelled.

Luke sprinted and tackled an archer holding his bow. Both crashed to the ground, rolling. They scrambled to their feet. Locked eyes.

The archer fumbled for an arrow. But Luke was faster. In less than a second, dash activated. He was in front of him, driving the blade straight through the man’s skull.

[You have slain a…]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

The body crumpled sideways. Luke glanced around.

They were staring at him. He was surrounded.

The criminals had already grouped up, forming a circle around him.

“This one’s probably one of Marshall’s little lapdogs,” said a warrior gripping a massive warhammer.

“You’ve got some balls showing up here alone,” a mage added, raising his staff. Three spheres of earth floated around him, crackling with blue electricity.

Everywhere Luke looked, enemies. Six against one.

“Who said I’m alone,” Luke replied.

The mage fired. The earthen spheres flew toward Luke.

But then… they hit something.

A figure materialized in front of him. A tall knight. Fully armored head to toe.

Except… the face.

A skull. A skeleton.

The bandits flinched in shock.

“Kill those two bastards!” the warrior bellowed at the mages.

Princess Charlie gripped her sword. Spectral Charge activated. She dashed forward, combining it with [Crescent Slash] in a blistering spin.

A clean arc. A scream tore through the air as a head flew. One of the mages. Decapitated.

[Princess Charlie has slain a…]

Chaos exploded.

The melee fighters lunged toward her. But Charlie dodged, sprinting past them. Her focus was on the mages in the back, now scrambling as they fired spells.

One of them unleashed a barrage. Flaming arrows appeared around him and rained down toward her. She deflected several with her blade and kept moving.

A warrior intercepted her. A skill similar to Charge sent him slamming into her, knocking her down and saving the mage. She hit the ground but rolled back up.

A second mage lifted both hands, firing a continuous stream of fire, trying to burn her down. But from the smoke and flame, she surged forward. Both hands grabbed his arms.

The gloves she wore, looted from the crypt, gave her basic fire resistance. A sharp crack. She shattered his wrists. Her fist crashed into his face, boosted by Iron Fist.

The remaining warriors regrouped and charged at her.

Luke didn’t waste time. He leaped. Grabbed one mid-run. Slammed him to the ground.

When he turned toward Charlie, she was already locked in a brutal fight with the others.

Luke faced two. A warrior and a mage.

He hurled a kukri. The warrior dodged. Threw the second. Dodged again.

“And here I was thinking it was a Renegade raid. Turns out it’s just some damn kid,” the warrior sneered, lifting his war axe.

He charged straight at Luke and swung.

Luke’s back hit a tent. He threw both hands up like he was surrendering.

“Giving up?” the warrior laughed. “Where are your little knives now?” He raised the axe high, ready to bring it down.

But then something sliced through the air.

The kukris.

They came flying back at Luke’s call, striking the warrior square in the back.

The man screamed. The axe slipped from his hands.

Luke pulled a dagger from his leg holster, stepped in, and stabbed it deep into the man’s neck.

“Right here,” he replied.

[You have slain a…]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

A sudden flash. Something bright and yellow rushed toward him.

Fireballs. The mage was firing.

Luke yanked the warrior’s corpse up and used it as a shield. The fireballs slammed into the body.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie. Surrounded. One of them a mage hurling lightning.

Luke ripped one of the kukris from the dead warrior’s back and hurled it toward her. Midair, he duplicated it.

Both blades struck the lightning mage. The mage screamed.

Charlie dashed in and drove her sword through his chest.

[Princess Charlie has slain a…]

A warrior lunged at her, leaping.

Charlie dismissed her sword, sending it back to her inventory, and activated Iron Fist. Her punch caught him midair and sent him flying.

A warhammer smashed into her back.

But Charlie didn’t flinch. She charged forward with Spectral Charge and slammed both fists into the warrior.

[Princess Charlie has slain a…]

Now only one was left facing her.

Luke ducked behind the corpse, still using it to block fireballs.

“You with Marshall? You gotta be, right? I’m on your side! I’m the informant!” the mage shouted in panic as Luke dashed toward him.

[Princess Charlie has slain a…]

Luke dodged the next fireball, rolling behind a crate.

He could have lied. Could have played along.

But he didn’t.

He burst out from cover, zigzagging. Dash active. A trail of shadows in his wake.

The mage fired. Missed.

A dagger sliced into his leg. Thrown. The mage stumbled.

Luke slid across the ground, the fireball detonating behind him. He surged up, arms swinging in an arc. The blade scraped across the mage’s face. His other hand shoved him backward.

And then…

A skeletal arm wrapped around the mage from behind. Lifted him clean off the ground. Slammed him against a tree.

The last thing the mage saw was the grinning skull.

And then her sword drove through him.

[Princess Charlie has slain a…]

It was over.

They had done it.

Luke scanned the notifications. Counted.

“Eleven,” Luke muttered, scanning the camp. “One left.”

And then, a boulder flew straight toward him.

He dodged—almost. The massive rock clipped his side, slamming into him and sending him crashing to the ground.

Pain shot through his ribs. Luke gritted his teeth, rolling over.

Charlie stepped forward, sword raised, blocking the next attack without hesitation.

A heavy voice rumbled through the clearing. “You two… managed to destroy my camp.”

The last one. The one who had been asleep.

As he walked, pieces of silver armor materialized over him, locking into place with mechanical precision. Gauntlets snapped into his wrists. Greaves locked around his legs. A helmet slid down, sealing his face behind steel. Not a single gap. Not a single flaw.

“The leader…” Luke muttered under his breath.

This was the one he’d been hoping to avoid—the one too dangerous to fight head-on. Attacking while he was asleep had been the only chance. That chance was now gone.

“I don’t know who you are,” the man growled. “Maybe relatives of someone we killed. Not Marshall’s men, that’s for sure. He would’ve sent more than… this. One fool… and a skeleton.”

He shifted his weight forward. No weapons. Just fists.

Then he charged.

Charlie moved to intercept. Her blade sliced the air—but he was already gone, sidestepping with speed that didn’t match his size. His fist hit Luke’s ribs with the precision of a hammer swung by an expert. Bone strained. Air vanished. His body lifted off the ground and crashed against a tree trunk hard enough to shake loose the branches.

Heavy footsteps followed immediately, closing the distance fast.

“Hope you’re worth good experience.”

Charlie swung, forcing him back for a breath, but the man pivoted effortlessly around her. He didn’t even look as he slipped past her blade and countered. His fist drove into her chest with enough force to send her skidding across the mud.

The fight wasn’t just power. It was absolute dominance in close combat.

The man shouted as both his fists struck the earth. A tremor ran through the ground like the pulse of an earthquake. Luke and Charlie were thrown off balance, knees buckling, momentum stolen.

Before either of them could recover, he was on top of them again.

Charlie’s sword flashed. Useless. The man caught it mid-swing, ripped it from her grasp, and tossed it aside like garbage. His next punch hit her square in the chest. Her body folded around the blow before launching backward.

It didn’t stop.

Punch after punch followed. Bone cracked. Her shoulder joint fractured under the impact. The punch knocked Charlie’s skull clean off, sending it flying. Her body collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Luke lunged, but another strike caught him across the jaw, forcing him back. Another hit followed. Then another. His back hit the ground before he even registered the third impact.

The man grabbed him by the legs and whipped him into the dirt like a rag.

Desperation cut through Luke’s focus. He triggered Basic Dark Dash, vanishing into shadow, reappearing behind the man with a kick aimed at his lower back. The hit forced a stumble—but only that.

Luke struck at the joints, aiming for the fingers, for the wrists—any soft point. The steel skin shimmered. The blades bounced off.

“What’s wrong?” the pugilist asked, voice curling into a sneer. “Lost your nerve?”

Luke spat blood, wiping it from his chin. His expression sharpened into something cold. Focused.

“No,” he replied. “Just buying time.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What—”

A fist collided with the side of his helmet. His head snapped sideways.

He turned—stopped cold.

Charlie stood. The glow in her hollow sockets burned brighter than before.

“You… you were dead.”

Another strike drove him backward. Her fist dented the side of his armor.

Luke grinned, breath ragged. “She’s a skeleton, genius. You just have to… put the skull back on.”

Charlie nodded once. Silent. Then advanced.

The pugilist lunged at Luke—only to meet Charlie’s forearm driving into his ribs, stopping the charge. His arms shot wide to counter, but Luke slipped in, planting his heel against the side of the man’s knee.

The strike buckled the joint. The man stumbled.

Charlie holstered her sword entirely. She didn’t need it now. Her body blurred forward, propelled by Spectral Charge, shoulder hitting the man square in the chest, driving him backward into a tree.

Another punch connected with his jaw. His helmet cracked at the seam. A third hit followed. Then a fourth. His head snapped back. His feet left the ground.

Two devastating punches slammed into the pugilist’s helmet. He was sent flying, crashing into a tree hard enough to shatter it on impact.

Before he could even register the hit—another fist drove into the side of his head. He staggered, raised his arms for a counterattack—

But Luke came soaring in from above. The kukri pierced straight through the visor.

“AAAHHH!” The pugilist screamed, flinging Luke off him in panic.

But it was already too late.

Luke and Charlie closed in together. Each blow shattered more of the armor. Charlie struck the same point again and again, weakening the plating—and Luke drove his blades precisely into those weak spots, slicing through the gaps.

The pugilist began to stagger. His movements slowed. He wound up for one last desperate punch—

Luke rolled to the side, extending his hand. His health began to drain. One point at a time. A trickle of life flowing into Luke.

Charlie raised a final fist—and brought it down with a brutal crack.

The pugilist’s helmet flew off, tumbling across the dirt. His face was exposed.

And in the next second, another punch smashed straight into it. His body flew backward, crashing through tents and rolling across the ground.

He groaned. Tried to stand.

But then—Luke leapt. Like a predator descending on wounded prey.

The pugilist looked up, panic in his eyes. The kukri came down. And pierced straight through his skull.

[You have slain a Human – Lvl 9 (Pugilist – Lvl 16)]

[You have gained +1 Soul Fragments]

*Your class [Demonic Assassin] has reached Level 12! (Class Bonus Points Acquired)*

[A new Class Skill is now available]

[An item has been added to your inventory]

Luke opened the notifications.

And when he saw what item it was, his eyes instinctively drifted toward Charlie. A faint smile touched the edge of his lips.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep