Chapter 1: I Shall Become the New Master of This Town

The legend of the Knight Draxel traces its roots back to March of 1257. Set on a mystifying western continent, on a bustling night, stood a castle in the heart of a prosperous town named Uxkhal.

A sight to behold, the town boasted walls, stables, and various other structures that were impeccably maintained. A tangible sense of lasting solidity radiated from every stone.

In its central square, lanterns gleamed with unmatched brilliance, illuminating a sea of people in perpetual motion. The marketplace was an overwhelming display of goods, far too numerous to tally. But in stark contrast to this lively scene, a chilling silence dominated the Lord’s Hall. There, a young man, brandishing a Germanic battle sword, struck with fury at the elderly man before him.

This elderly man was the undisputed lord of this indomitable town fortress.

Years of relentless battles and recurring wounds had drained him. Now severely weakened and critically ill, he lay defenseless on his bed, awaiting fate’s next move.

The young man’s swift and deadly blows sealed the old man’s fate.

The frail chest was penetrated, revealing a heart that, though exposed to the cold air, still fluttered weakly. A subsequent stab cleaved the old man’s throat.

“May you find peace in hell, dear Father.”

With a stoic face, the young man pulled out and sheathed his sword. As he did, the head, separated by the force of his attack, tumbled to the floor.

Now, a headless form lay drenched in blood, motionless for eternity, soon to be reduced to ashes.

The young man then stealthily departed, navigating effortlessly to another bedroom across the hall. Behind its door, his younger brother, Draxel, lay deep in slumber.

“My cherished brother…”

Without a sound, using a key he had readied beforehand, the young man unlocked the door. He then placed the crimson-soaked sword beside Draxel, returning it to its true owner.

Everyone in the town was aware that the unique Germanic battle sword belonged solely to the younger brother, Draxel. Thus, pinning the blame on Draxel for the assassination seemed a foregone conclusion.

What they didn’t realize was that the person lying in bed was not truly Draxel. Beneath that handsome facade resided a different soul, one from the land of Huaxia. After an inexplicable event where he was pulled into a game screen during a night of partying and drinking, he had found himself in this world and had been living here for several years now.

It was this very soul from the East that successfully introduced curses to this Western land, gaining popularity even over local profanities. This phenomenon only reaffirmed the age-old adage, ‘Curses recognize no boundaries.’

[New Task]

[You’ve been framed by your elder brother. Address this matter without delay.]

[Current Character Status: Draxel, Level 30, Strength 20, Agility 20, Wisdom 20, Charisma 20.]

[System Prompt: Why are you still sleeping? Time to wake up and face the music! Forgive the bluntness, but you’ve been sleeping like a log. You didn’t even notice someone approaching.]

The following morning, as the sun made its gradual ascent, banishing the previous night’s chill and blanketing the continent in hope and warmth, Lady Bela made her return. She was the rightful wife of the recently murdered lord and, in essence, the lady of the town.

The entrance guard, a sharp-eyed young man, instantly recognized Lady Bela.

“Good morning, esteemed Lady Bela. I urge you to make haste to the Lord’s Hall. Your husband… he…”

“What about him?”

“He was… tragically assassinated last night.”

The words left Lady Bela nearly deaf with disbelief. She wobbled, on the brink of falling from her horse.

“It cannot be! Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”

Overwhelmed by disbelief and uncertainty, she found herself at a loss. All she could think to do was to swiftly return to the Lord’s Hall to deliberate on the next steps.

Inside the hall, the atmosphere was palpable with tension as her sons clashed. The elder, who was the real perpetrator behind the assassination, and Draxel were embroiled in a heated dispute that was becoming increasingly volatile.

“Damn it! It was you. Only your Germanic battle sword could leave such a distinct jagged wound. And the fresh scent of blood still lingers on your blade. Just admit your guilt already.”

He had practiced these accusations countless times the previous night, and now, delivering them, his words flowed seamlessly, hurling allegations with a practiced ease.

“Brother, I’ve said time and again. I absolutely did not kill our father. On the other hand, your despicable acts of exploiting innocent women have tarnished our family’s reputation and burdened our mother with public shame. Father grew disgusted with your behavior, considering leaving the inheritance to me. That’s why you murdered him and set me up.”

In response to Draxel’s rebuttal, the elder brother neither looked remorseful nor guilty. Instead, he smirked devilishly and taunted, “Oh, how amusing this is. You speak of framing? Where’s your proof?”

The confrontation seemed poised to turn physical. Both were on the brink of resorting to violence.

At the critical moment, their mother, Lady Bela, intervened, momentarily defusing the explosive situation. After understanding the details, she found herself torn and unsure of how to proceed.

Indeed, her grief over her husband’s demise was not profound. In this feudal system, women were subordinated and voiceless. To her late husband, she had been merely an outlet for his desires and a means to produce heirs.

Draxel, filled with indignation, felt as unjustly condemned as an innocent man falsely accused. In contrast to the modern world, with its surveillance footage and forensic evidence, such methods were non-existent here.

According to the customs of the kingdom, the death of the patriarch naturally meant his son would inherit the lands and title.

The power struggle between him and his brother was always a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode. It was surprising, however, that his brother took the initiative with such a meticulously planned assassination and framing. Such actions were a sheer breach of trust.

This land’s very existence was due to insatiable power desires, shadowy political plays, and the ceaseless accumulation of wealth.

Soon, the assassination that took place in the town reached the capital of the Swadia Kingdom, and King Harlaus X was duly informed of the situation.

“With the true perpetrator still at large and evidence scarce, we cannot leave the lordship vacant. In three days, we’ll hold a sword duel. The victor shall claim the lordship of the town. I will personally oversee the duel.”

Not a single minister dared voice opposition to the king’s decree. With haste, a mounted messenger carried the king’s orders to the town of Uxkhal.

Draxel had foreseen the brash solution the royal family would opt for. And thanks to his golden finger, the system, he was well-informed about his brother’s true capabilities.

[Brother’s stats: Level 20, Strength 15, Agility 12, Intelligence 10, Charisma 15.]

[Swordsmanship Proficiency: 120.]

[System Prompt: You stand a good chance to best him and boost your fame.]

With a sword proficiency surpassing 150, Draxel was certain about the outcome of the duel. Smirking, he communicated with the system, “My sorry excuse for a brother, who doesn’t even have a proper name, is likely to meet his end in the next chapter.”

[System’s Reply: Perhaps you’ll be the one meeting your end. Continue the game.]

“Is the system joking? All this while, I’ve humored my brother by letting him believe he’s the superior swordsman, merely pretending to lose. He’ll soon see how wrong he was.”