Warriors will die if they charge.

When Marcus opened his eyes and saw the rock face and glowing moss, the tension finally eased.

It would have been impossible for him not to feel any fear during that game.

When he picked up the shield, he worried that its weight would crush him, and even as he dragged Bardin through the swamp, he feared dying in the poisonous fog.

But thankfully, it's all over.

He propped himself up with his hands on the ground, slowly sat up, and observed the situation inside the troll cave.

Marcus didn't care whether the three stray dogs disappeared, were kept as souvenirs by Emery, or were completely obliterated.

The river, flowing with silver, has returned to normal, with clear groundwater flowing slowly through it, and a soft, gurgling sound echoing in the cave.

Bardin lay on the ground, his arms still tightly wrapped around his now empty chest, muttering some unintelligible dwarven language.

The drow, brought out from the final treasure vault, lay peacefully asleep on the ground. Her long, silvery-white hair, flowing like a waterfall, contrasted sharply with her simple, pure black dress, and her smooth, jade-like gray-white skin was a perfect blend of the two.

Beside her lay a steel longsword with a counterweight inlaid with a blood-drop-shaped ruby, a weapon taken from the second treasury.

Marcus reached out, placed the blood-dripping longsword in his robes, and gazed at Sleeping Beauty, lost in thought.

What should we do? Leave her here? Maybe that's the only way to get rid of that piece of shit, Emma.

But is doing this really the right thing to do? After all, this is an elf...

I mean, it's tall, with white fur, a big chest, and pointed ears. Hugging it feels like hugging an air conditioner; it's incredibly comfortable.

Sigh, whatever, it's done now. Let's start with the lottery. Hopefully, it won't be another joke like "The Warrior's Handbook".

Speaking of which... does the Warrior's Handbook really have some uses that I'm not aware of? That swamp is incredibly long, at least three kilometers long. How could I drag Badin along and walk three kilometers in twenty minutes? That's strange.

With a blank stare, the roulette wheel appeared again. This time, Marcus chose a safety net strategy. He had previously gone all in with the rare "Southbound Special Track" card, hoping to take a gamble.

He felt that using legendary vouchers to gamble on a one-in-ten chance of winning an immortal reward was not a good idea.

The roulette wheel spun again, the pointer began to spin again, and his heart trembled with it.

All red! Quick, quick, quick, get me something good, preferably the dice from the treasure vault that guarantee a win every time you gamble!

Congratulations! You have drawn the legendary talent "Speed ​​Bump".

Speed ​​bumps: Forget fear, unshakeable, lethal blows are but minor injuries! You are an insurmountable wall for the enemy!

[Skill Details: You gain immunity to mental spells such as charm, illusion, and fear, and reduce the effects of sneak attacks, exposure, shock, paralysis, crushing, pain, and instant death. Your constitution and strength will slowly increase as you fight, and your defense will increase by 200%. When attacked, enemies will be temporarily slowed down.]

When the enemy is large or very large, it will prioritize attacking you.

I was hit by a stroke of luck and transported to another world, where I've truly become a speed bump?

Theropod respiratory system, troll regeneration, and speed bumps—none of the three talents I drew were offensive. It turns out I've become a lump of dead flesh.

Why are all three talents related to warriors? Is the Southbound Special Track really a newbie reward mission to determine which talents I can draw later?

Damn it, I should have shamelessly stuck with that old man Ike back then!

That's a mage, even the worst mage is still a mage!

Marcus shook his head in disappointment, clenched his fist, and slammed it hard on the ground to vent his frustration at not drawing anything good.

When I punched him, the expected pain didn't come; my joints just felt a slight itch.

"Um?"

He looked down at his feet and found four tiny dents on the hard rock platform. He raised his hand and found that there was no scratch.

"Alright, at least for now, I'm a mangy dog ​​with some sense of purpose. I'll go back and learn some swordsmanship and combat skills from Captain Fielding. Maybe I can become a decent warrior."

Bardin swayed as he sat up, looking at Marcus who was deep in thought and grief: "Buddy, don't be too sad, at least we've moved on."

"I should be the one telling you that Emma Lee is unwilling to give you that treasure."

"..." Bardin lowered his head and sighed softly, "Yes, but I was wrong again. I was bewitched at the time and used the power of the devil to complete the redemption. I cannot return to the ancestral temple."

"What exactly did you do wrong, Bardeen?"

"Nothing, nothing... Hahaha." Bardin laughed heartily, a laugh both helpless and hearty. He patted his bottom and stood up, then, seeing the drow elf lying there, asked in confusion:

"A mixed-race drow?"

"I picked this up from Emmael. Isn't this a drow elf? White fur, gray skin."

Bardin observes the lying elf for a while:

"Drow are usually very short, generally less than five feet tall, and they spend most of their time in the dark, with wrinkled and shriveled bodies. I've personally slaughtered several black bean sprouts, and they weren't even this short..."

He hesitated for a long time before reluctantly saying, "It'll be beautiful, but the skin will be darker, and there will be ritualistic scars and boils on the body."

Marcus walked to the side of the drow and squatted down to observe the sleeping princess with curiosity. At that moment, the princess opened her eyes.

Those were a pair of alluring scarlet eyes, glowing in the dim environment of the cave, flashing in rhythm with the breath.

A strange feeling rose within Marcus; he seemed to connect with the drow before him.

There was a strange, indescribable connection, a feeling that was extremely faint, like a thread connecting two cliffs, seemingly fragile enough to be broken by a gust of wind, yet incredibly resilient.

"My name is Trish." The drow's voice was clear and crisp, and she spoke Common Tongue without much of an accent. As she opened her thin lips, a chill swept across her cheek.

"Marcus Norfitz." Marcus took a few steps back and sat down cross-legged with a wary expression. Judging from the prestige of the Fourth Treasury, this drow was probably very strong.

Trissy braced herself against the ground and slowly sat up cross-legged. She first scanned the dim cave. Through the drow's innate infrared vision, she saw a robust human, a sturdy dwarf, and the dark cave.

Looking at Marcus, whose wariness was clearly much lower than that of the dwarves, she uttered her first question after a long slumber:

"What about Emma?"

"Hmm? I brought you out of Emma's treasury, and to be honest, I don't know who he is."

The mixed-race drow spoke a few words of elven slang, and she also experienced a similar feeling to Marcus, forming an indescribable connection with the man in front of her.

She glanced at Marcus several times, her expression slightly condescending, her tone relatively calm.

"I made a deal with Emma, ​​and he helped me escape the Underdark to a safe place. He was obviously a liar. He put me to sleep in a crystal coffin, which was the safety he promised, that I would never be in danger."

"And how did you escape their clutches, Marcus Noelfitz?"

"Maybe... it's because I'm not greedy, haha." Marcus chuckled.