John sat alone in the dim dungeon cell.
Suddenly, the faint echo of approaching footsteps reached his ears.
He stood up at once, every muscle tense with attention.
His heart lifted with fragile hope.
Perhaps this was the rescue team he had quietly requested through his hidden communicator.
That hope shattered the moment the figures came into clearer view. It was no rescue party at all.
His demeanor shifted even more sharply when he recognized the one person he had been certain was dead.
Ethan stood just beyond the iron bars, calm and unharmed.
"You… How are you alive?" John asked, his voice cracking with disbelief.
"That is not necessary right now," Ethan replied, his face cold and unyielding.
"What matters is that you tried to take my life.
And not only that, you colluded with an enemy."
"You… I… You are supposed to be dead!" John stammered, his stomach twisting into painful knots.
He had messed up badly. Ethan was still alive.
The memory of how Ethan had casually killed someone simply for insulting him flashed through John's mind.
Cold fear gripped him. He might die the same way.
"It is alright," Ethan said evenly.
"I am not as evil as you think.
There is still a way out for you."
John stared at him with deep suspicion, unable to grasp why the supposedly ruthless lord was showing any mercy at all.
"I am sorry, but I cannot act as a double spy," John answered, forcing his voice to stay steady.
"Nor can I reveal who sent me. The moment I do, I will lose my life."
"It is alright," Ethan replied calmly.
"There is no need for that."
"All you need to do is chop a specific amount of wood," Ethan explained.
"Fifty pieces before the end of tomorrow."
"That is all?" John asked, his disbelief plain on his face.
"Yes," Ethan said simply. "That is all."
Even the escorts standing beside Ethan looked surprised by the mild punishment.
Their eyes widened slightly in the torchlit corridor.
"Nicholas, supervise him and ensure he completes the task," Ethan ordered.
"Do a good job."
He stretched out his hand toward Nicholas.
The knight accepted the handshake, though confusion clouded his expression.
Things grew stranger when Ethan held the handshake for a full five minutes.
The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, while everyone nearby shifted uncomfortably.
At last, Ethan released his grip.
His actions left Nicholas, and everyone else, utterly bewildered.
[Congratulations! You have mastered the class Knight.]
A faint smile touched Ethan's lips as he walked away.
Without hesitation, he began grasping the hands of specific people around the castle, each time for exactly five minutes.
[Congratulations! You have mastered the class Archer.]
[Congratulations! You have mastered the class Assassin.]
[Congratulations! You have mastered the class Farmer.]
While John spent the day sweating over the chopping of trees, his axe ringing against wood in the cold yard, Ethan moved quietly through the crimson castle.
He copied classes from anyone he could reach.
In just one day, he claimed thirty different classes.
They were all basic ones, of course. Unique classes remained rare and hard to find.
Later, Ethan stepped into an empty courtyard within the castle grounds and received his one-acre farm field as a reward.
The space felt different from what he had imagined.
The soil looked rich yet strangely broken, cracked in places as if waiting for new life.
The field worked on its own.
Whatever crops Ethan decided upon, seeds appeared instantly and planted themselves.
The maturity time for every harvest shrank by twenty percent.
The air carried a faint, earthy scent that promised growth.
The citizens who witnessed the sudden appearance of the field stood shocked, their eyes wide with wonder.
Ethan chose not to explain anything, letting the mystery linger in the crisp castle air.
Thanks to the mysterious system guiding him, Ethan already had another plan forming in his mind.
The easiest people to control had always been religious fanatics.
They followed without question and rarely doubted their leaders.
He intended to use that loyalty to capture the hearts of every citizen completely.
Along the way, he would settle his deeper scores with the empire.
For that to succeed, he needed his subjects to trust him without hesitation or doubt.
By the end of the evening, John had finished the task.
Fifty freshly chopped pieces of wood lay neatly stacked in the courtyard, their sharp scent mixing with the evening chill.
"Good," Ethan said. "It is cold, and you are cold. Someone bring a large enough pot."
Soon the heavy iron pot stood ready.
Guards poured water into it while others carefully arranged the wood John had chopped beneath it.
Flames crackled to life, and the water began to boil, steam rising in thick white clouds.
"You must be very cold," Ethan told John, a small smile on his face.
"Why don't you get into the water and warm yourself up?"
"That is madness," John protested, fear flashing in his eyes.
"There is no way I will survive if I enter that water. I am not even a one-star ranked warrior."
The smile on Ethan's face vanished in an instant, replaced by icy coldness.
"Throw him inside."
The sudden shift in Ethan's demeanor sent a visible chill through everyone present.
Hearts pounded harder in the tense silence.
"Please! Don't do this!" John screamed, terror raw in his voice.
Being thrown into boiling water was a horrible way to die.
He struggled desperately, limbs flailing against the strong grips of the guards.
But resistance was useless.
Moments later, John was hurled into the bubbling water.
His screams tore through the courtyard, loud and piercing, echoing off the stone walls until they slowly faded into silence.
After John's death, Ethan turned and walked away without another word.