Chương 72: Interlude: Paragon of the Vanguard

Caylee Whitehollow stood at the mountain's summit, letting the howling wind of Icespire Peak whip and tear at her long blonde hair. Her assistant had informed her that this was likely the coldest and windiest location in the entire quadrant. It was also, according to her assistant's running estimates, the area with the lowest undead density within the entire quadrant. Strategically optimal for maximum Tutorial participant survival, it had said.

Caylee agreed but that didn't make the weather up here any more tolerable. The snow beneath her boots was hard-packed and wind-scoured, glittering beneath the pale morning sun. Below the summit on this side of the mountain, the ridge sloped into a dense evergreen forest so dark it seemed to swallow light whole. Beyond that, the frozen plains stretched outward in rolling white waves broken only by scattered pine clusters and the occasional jagged stone outcropping.

Further still, at the very edge of their quadrant, rose the barrier. An opaque wall of shimmering energy that cut her quadrant off from the others that lay beyond. It reached from earth to sky, an unbroken curtain that hummed faintly if you stood close enough. From this height, she could trace its blue arc across the horizon. It had been fourteen days since the Tutorial began. Fourteen days of frozen death and blood. Fourteen days of skeletal hands clawing up through snow.

Of zombies staggering from ancient burial pits in numbers that never seemed to thin. Her assistant had informed her early on that this was the most difficult starting quadrant. Reserved for high-potential candidates. Where the wheat could be separated from the chaff. Caylee had smiled at that originally. She was always up for a challenge. Now she cursed her naiveté. She stood tall against the wind, long blonde hair whipping behind her. Snowflakes caught in the strands before dissolving.

Her black chainmail armor hugged her form from neck to wrist to ankle, practical and complete—none of the absurd gaps she'd seen in fantasy games her brother used to play growing up. The mail was layered over insulated padding, reinforced at the joints, built for war in the cold. A longsword rested at her hip. A shield of polished steel hung on her back. Behind her stood the settlement. It had started as little more than a ring of desperate survivors huddled against the wind.

Now, wooden palisades reinforced with stone foundations ringed the flattened summit. Watchtowers rose at four points along the wall. Smoke curled from chimneys where fires burned constantly to stave off the cold. People moved inside—hauling supplies, tending fires, sharpening weapons. Her people. Caylee had founded this settlement on the third day. If they were going to survive the frozen hellscape the System had thrown them into, they would do it under structure. Under leadership. Under her leadership.

Not everyone had agreed at first. Some wanted to hide in caves. Some wanted to run down the mountain and throw themselves uselessly at the undead. Others wanted to resist her command. Those dissidents were quickly eliminated. The undead didn't tire. They didn't fear the cold. They didn't stop. Caylee had learned quickly that adaptation wasn't optional. The faster she embraced this new world, the higher she would rise within it.

The view from the peak was almost serene enough to forget that beneath the snow lay mass graves. Most of the undead crawled from shallow pits—thousands of frozen bodies thrown together in rotting heaps. Those gave rise to the basic units. Skeletons with rusted blades. Zombies in torn armor. Tireless foot soldiers in a mindless army. The mausoleums were worse. Ancient stone structures half-buried in frost, their doors cracked open from within.

The undead that emerged from those were stronger, more coordinated, and better equipped. And somewhere deep within Icespire Peak itself lay the crypt that housed the General of these accursed undead. Caylee intended to clear the entire quadrant before the walls came down on day 31. Boots pounded through the snow behind her. She didn't turn immediately. She already knew the rhythm of the one that approached. The scout skidded to a halt a few steps behind her, breath heaving.

"They're moving," he said.

"Another wave closing in on the forest's edge." Caylee nodded once.

"How many?"

"Hard to say. Looks similar to yesterday's second surge."

"Alert the inner watch," she said calmly.

"Keep everyone inside the walls." The scout hesitated.

"Should we rally the forward team?" Caylee shook her head.

"No. My father and I will handle this one." The scout's shoulders straightened immediately.

"Yes, Paragon." He turned and ran back toward the gates. Caylee rested one hand on the hilt of her sword and stared into the dark forest below. Within minutes, the first shapes began to emerge between the trees. The first skeleton cleared the treeline in a jerking sprint. Caylee moved. Her boots barely sank into the snow as she descended the slope, shield sliding into her left hand in one smooth motion. The wind cut across her face, sharp and clean, but she welcomed it.

It kept her awake and focused on the task in front of her. The skeleton raised a rusted blade. Caylee's sword flashed once. Steel sang as the skeleton split from shoulder to hip, bones scattering across the snow in a loose spray. She didn't pause to watch it fall. More poured from the forest—zombies with frost-stiffened limbs, skeletons in fragments of ancient armor, jaws snapping uselessly as they charged. They were level twelve. Level fourteen. One particularly bulky specimen was level sixteen.

They were but blades of grass to a lawnmower. Caylee flowed into them. Her glowing white longsword carved a bright arc through the morning air, shearing through ribs, femurs, and vertebrae with effortless grace. A zombie lunged; she pivoted, smashed its jaw from its skull with her shield, and drove the sword up through the soft palate. The steel punched through frozen brain matter and tore out the back of its head. She withdrew, turned, and cut again. A skeleton tried to flank her.

She stepped into it, inside its guard, and cleaved through its spine. Bones burst apart like brittle glass. The snow around her became littered with shattered remains. She did not overextend. She did not rush. She moved like a dancer across the battlefield, every motion measured, fluid, and so effortless it seemed the dead were simply collapsing around her. A zombie swung wildly. She ducked beneath it, sliced through both hamstrings, and finished it with a downward stab through the sternum.

Her breathing stayed even. Behind her— BOOM. The sound rolled across the mountainside like distant thunder. An undead torso disintegrated mid-charge, chest cavity erupting as a fist-sized rock tore through it. Caylee didn't need to look to know. Her father, Henry Whitehollow, stood thirty meters back, boots planted wide in the snow. He was a large man—broad shoulders, thick arms, braided strawberry blonde beard swinging with each movement. His long hair was tied back to keep it from his eyes.

The makeshift blunderbuss in his hands belched smoke as he reloaded with efficient, practiced motions. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. When he selected the Beast Tamer class, he hadn't expected to be dropped into a frozen wasteland devoid of any beasts worth taming. The System had a cruel sense of humor but he made do with what he had. Henry had adapted nearly as well as Caylee. If he couldn't command beasts, he would become the artillery.

Another skeleton slipped past Caylee's blade— BOOM. It exploded into fragments before it took another step. She allowed herself the faintest smile as she cut through the front ranks, dancing between grasping hands and snapping jaws. Henry fired with careful timing, each blast obliterating anything that managed to slip past her. She spun, blade flashing in tight arcs. A trio of skeletons fell in rapid succession. A zombie lunged; she stepped aside and severed its head in one clean strike.

Her System notifications flickered constantly at the edge of her vision. You have defeated [Shambling Skeleton – Level 15]. You have defeated [Frozen Gravewalker – Level 17]. You have defeated [Rimebound Corpse – Level 21]. She ignored them just like most of the others, preferring to keep her attention on the undead even as their numbers thinned. The forest edge grew quiet. Only a few stragglers stumbled forward now. Caylee slowed her advance, boots crunching across a carpet of shattered bone and frozen flesh.

For a moment, she thought that was it. Then she saw it. Ten meters inside the treeline. A skull. Hollow eye sockets burned with twin blue flames, their glow sharp with a calculating awareness the other undead utterly lacked. She had seen that skull many times before. It always kept its distance. Always watching just out of reach as she slaughtered its mindless minions Whenever she pushed too far into the forest, the blue flames would retreat, slipping back into shadow before she could close the distance.

An elite smart enough to avoid her blade. The flames flared as it met her gaze. A week ago, she would have let it go. But today was the day she would finally extinguish those flames. Caylee stepped forward and raised her sword. The creature paused. She could feel the weight of her new power coiled within her Core. Level twenty-five had not come without its perks. She pointed her blade directly at the skull." [Judgement of the Vanguard]" she whispered.

Both mana and stamina flooded her channels as light detonated from her sword. A beam three meters wide tore across the snow in a blinding ray of incandescent brilliance. It stretched fifty meters into the forest, vaporizing everything in its path. Skeletons caught in the beam disintegrated instantly. Zombies ignited and burned to black ash in less than a heartbeat. Trees exploded into steam and flame.

The blue-flamed skull had just enough time to flare in shock before it was snuffed out of existence as the beam carved a glowing trench through snow and earth. The light faded and silence followed. Ding! You have defeated [Kerintal, Lich Captain of the Grave – Level 27]. You have gained additional experience for killing a creature above your level. Tutorial Quest Updated: Cull the Undead Progress: Captains Slain: 3 of 8 General Slain: 0 of 1 Caylee dismissed the notifications and lowered her blade slowly.

Steam rose from the molten scar she had left behind. Behind her, Henry let out a low whistle.

"Well," he called out, smoke curling out of the end of his blunderbuss, "that's new." Without Kerintal's presence at the treeline, the remaining undead lost what little cohesion they'd possessed. They staggered forward in ones and twos, easy prey. Caylee cut them down methodically, careful not to advance too close to the forest's shadow. Even with the captain defeated, she wasn't reckless.

When the final skeleton collapsed into scattered bone, she stood still for a moment, scanning the dark edge for any sign of renewed movement. Nothing. Her new ability still hummed faintly in her veins, though she could already feel the cooldown settling in. It would be a while before she could call upon it again. Boots crunched behind her.

"That was one hell of a trick," Henry said, walking up beside her, blunderbuss resting across his shoulder. Caylee allowed herself a small smile.

"That was the skill I chose after reaching level twenty-five." He raised a brow.

"That a fact?"

"Mm-hmm. Thought I'd test it properly." She glanced at the scorched path.

"Shame about the cooldown. I'd like to practice it a few more times." Henry barked a laugh.

"You're gonna run out of forest if you keep that up." She sheathed her sword and turned back toward the settlement. As they approached the gates the watchmen were already cheering. The gates opened, and a swell of voices met them.

"Caylee you're amazing!!"

"Did you see that light?!"

"That beam went halfway into the forest!" People crowded near the entrance, bundled in patchwork armor. Some held spears. Others clutched tools they were slowly learning to use. Their breath fogged in excited bursts as they spoke over one another.

"You saved us again, Paragon."

"We're lucky you're here."

"Them bonies don't stand a chance with you leading us." Caylee inclined her head politely, offering brief smiles and a few reassuring words.

"Keep reinforcing the southern wall," she told one group.

"Rotate the watch every two hours. And make sure people stay indoors when the sun dips." They nodded fervently. She kept her expression carefully tempered but beneath that restraint, warmth spread through her chest. They looked at her like she was their salvation and she savored every ounce of their praise. Henry clapped a few men on the shoulder as they passed, offering gruff encouragement, but he let her walk slightly ahead. The deference was subtle, but intentional.

They reached the largest structure in the settlement—a reinforced building of stone and timber that served as their point of command. Inside, a cluster of scouts and officers waited around a wide table. A crude but functional map of the quadrant lay stretched across it. Carved stone markers represented human patrols. Smaller, darker pieces marked known undead activity. Scout Commander Callahan stood at the head of the table. He was lean, sharp-eyed, with gray clinging to the edges of his beard.

He straightened when Caylee entered.

"Report," she said, stepping forward. Callahan nodded.

"We located another burial pit along the eastern plains. Standard mass grave configuration. Skeletons and zombies spawning at consistent intervals." A stone marker was placed near the quadrant's border.

"When the scouts approached, they received a Tutorial Quest," he continued.

"Clear the pit by defeating the Bone Lieutenant." Caylee's eyes flicked to the location.

"Distance?"

"Two days' travel if the weather holds."

"Do we need to lead the assault?" Callahan shook his head.

"No, Paragon. We have a team nearing level twenty. With preparation, they should be capable of eliminating the lieutenant." She nodded once.

"Good. Let them take it out and gain the benefits from the Tutorial Quest. I want daily updates." Callahan shifted to the next marker.

"We also discovered a mausoleum." Caylee's jaw tightened slightly. The mausoleums produced stronger undead. Coordinated units with pristine equipment. Sometimes even commanders like the Lich Captain she just eliminated.

"Where?" she asked. He pointed to a position southwest of the mountain's base.

"But there's something strange," Callahan added.

"There were no active undead surrounding it." Her brows drew together.

"Explain."

"The ground outside was littered with shattered bones," he said.

"Our scouts entered the structure and found the same inside." Her gaze sharpened.

"And?"

"They found a stone sarcophagus in the central chamber." He paused.

"It had been blown apart from the inside." A flicker of unease moved through her.

"None of the bones were animated?" she asked.

"None."

"Then either something strong is roaming free…" she murmured, "or there are more survivors we haven't found yet. I'll look into it." Callahan inclined his head.

"That brings me to the final report." Her attention snapped back to him.

"We've located additional survivors," he said.

"Small group. They've already been brought into quarantine." For a split second, Caylee's controlled expression cracked. Her eyes lit up.

"Survivors?" she repeated.

"Yes, Paragon." She shot him a look.

"You should have led with that." Callahan opened his mouth to respond but she was already moving out the door toward quarantine. Behind her, Callahan sighed under his breath.

"And that," he said wryly, "is exactly why I didn't open with it." The quarantine enclosure sat along the outer ring of the settlement, sectioned off by a secondary wooden barrier reinforced with crude iron brackets. A fire burned constantly at its entrance. No one entered the main camp without first being observed for signs of infection—bite wounds, necrotic discoloration, erratic behavior. Caylee strode toward it without slowing. The guard at the entrance snapped to attention the moment he saw her.

"Paragon."

"Report," she said. The man—Derrick, if she remembered correctly—shifted slightly.

"Seven new arrivals. Three men, four women. Malnourished but stable. Minor frostbite. No visible undead contamination." She stepped closer.

"Any of them fighting types?"

"A couple look like they've seen combat. But…" He hesitated.

"But?" she pressed.

"I don't think any of them are who you're looking for." Her jaw tightened faintly.

"He might not be using his real name," she said.

"Let me through." There wasn't even a flicker of resistance.

"Of course, Paragon." The gate opened immediately and Caylee stepped inside. The survivors huddled near the central firepit, wrapped in spare blankets. Their faces were hollowed by exhaustion. Fear lingered in their eyes, even here. They looked up when she entered. She scanned them carefully. Too thin. Too short. Wrong eyes. One man started to rise, as if recognizing her from the whispers already spreading through their group. She cut him off gently.

"Rest." She walked the perimeter but he wasn't here. None of them were the man she was looking for. A quiet disappointment settled in her chest but she didn't let it show.

"Ensure they're fed," she told Derrick as she exited.

"Keep them here for observation through tomorrow."

"Yes, Paragon." The gate shut behind her. The wind tugged at her hair again as she stepped away from the enclosure. A single tear threatened to roll down her cheek. He was here. Somewhere. And when she found Cade— She would make sure he survived.