In a cold prison, there was nothing but a blue-haired young man lying motionlessly on a damp tiled floor, the air thick with a musty smell.
The pitch-black space let in only a sliver of light through a narrow window with iron bars. That faint warmth washed over the boy's pale face, making his shape clearer in the prison gloom.
A handsome face—though touched with a hint of arrogance.
At some point, the boy suddenly jolted awake and screamed.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
"Shut your damned mouth!" an irritated voice rang out as a food tray slammed into the boy's face, sending him falling backward.
The jailer snorted, giving the blue-haired boy a look full of contempt.
"Eat up. This is your last meal before you go to the guillotine at the execution ground tomorrow."
He smirked and turned away, but the boy suddenly spoke up.
"What's the date today? How many days until the Feast of Saint Brigid?"
The jailer scowled. He wondered if the bastard had completely lost track of time after living in this prison so long.
He shrugged.
"Your death anniversary is the Feast of Saint Brigid."
"A good day to die… hahahahaha…" The jailer laughed as he walked away.
Thirty minutes later.
The boy stood up, gazing at the landscape through the narrow window. He could see a church and several castles. Glancing to the left, he noticed the crowd moving busily around the city… it seemed they were preparing for a special event.
He sighed and sat back down, rubbing his fingers together as he muttered consciously.
"I've reincarnated in The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse game… It's not a dream."
He chuckled instinctively as memories from his new body surfaced.
He was born into a minor noble family of modest standing. A trash son of that house… an outcast who harassed women wherever he went, even the princess—Arthur's fiancée.
Well, he hadn't actually molested her yet. Some bastard had framed him, though he couldn't deny that he had done a few dirty things to her.
"Damn… how could I reincarnate into this body? Lucky for me, Arthur doesn't love the princess. If I escape from here, he'll still just see me as trash anyway."
…
"Now, let's think about a way to escape from here before the gods come."
The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse… the title of the game. A player took the role of a young Arthur who survived the Apocalypse and erased the gods' rules from the world… bringing peace to everyone.
He had played five versions of the game and completed them perfectly after countless deaths. He was certain this was the most damned game he had ever played, hell-level difficulty.
(It's quite creepy.)
Ting!
[Congratulations! You have gained a reward from the Gods.]
[You have received a rare profession: Spirit Summoner(EX).]
[You have enough requests to use the system before the Apocalypse begins.]
—
[Name:] Clark Clifford
[Race:] Human
[Profession:] Spirit Summoner(EX)
[Level: 0] [0%]
[ATK: 5]
[DEF: 5]
[HP: 5]
[CRIT DAMAGE: 5]
[Soul Storage]: Bronze rank 0 / Silver rank 0 / Gold rank 0/ Platinum rank 0/
[Summons:]
[Skills: Spirit summoning(EX)]
[Gold: 0] [Gem: 0]
[Inventory] [Craft]
—
Clark widened his eyes as he glanced at the system screen, especially when he saw his Profession. It was EX, not SSS.
He understood that professions were ranked from F → SSS. In the five versions of the game he had played as Arthur, he had only ever possessed an SSS-rank profession.
Which meant that, at this moment, he possessed a profession even better than the protagonist's. Yet, there was a flaw. He had never used this profession before.
He nodded to himself and decided to research his profession after killing a human. Because it was related to souls, for sure, he had to kill someone. He needed to prepare a lot of things—from routes to weapons.
His goal was to survive in a high-risk zone and reach level 50, enough requests to establish a guild.
Becoming a member of a guild was the only way to survive in this world. No one could survive alone. Moreover, the Gods had created strict rules, forcing humans into a vicious cycle of killing each other.
Firstly, From half a year after the Apocalypse started, solo levelers would be sent into a dungeon with difficulty more than ten times their level. If they cleared it, then just a week later, the next dungeon they faced would have double the previous difficulty.
Well, that was clearly a death sentence.
Secondly, even after joining a guild, it was never completely safe. They had to keep entering dungeons and completing missions to maintain the guild's position in the top 1000. If a guild fell below the top 1000 and failed to climb back within one month, it would be disbanded.
''It seems, It's too far I thought….The first thing I need to do at this moment is escape from this place before 7 a.m tomorrow.''
He glanced around, and the next moment, his eyes focused on the food tray… a metal spoon. His stomach began to groan as the smell of food lingered in his nose.
"Should I eat it to have enough energy for tomorrow?"
Just half a second later, he glanced outside.
"Hope everything goes well tomorrow."