Alex lay on his bed, staring up at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling. The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. His heart hadn't stopped racing since the conversation with Elara earlier. She wanted him dead. Not in some vague, political way, she wanted the countship, and she was ready to kill him for it in three days.
He remembered the game clearly. The original Alex, the one whose body he now wore, had won by poisoning her wine the night before the duel. Slow-acting, tasteless, something only the count's private stock had the antidote for. Alex had walked away with the title, the lands, everything. And then, not long after, the original had died anyway, some stupid side plot, some "hero" route he never finished.
Following that exact path felt tempting for a second. Safe. Predictable. But then what? Die in a year or two anyway because he was still playing someone else's scripted life? No. He wasn't going to be that idiot. He needed his own plan, something that didn't end with him choking on his own blood or rotting in an unmarked grave.
A sharp chime rang inside his skull, like a glass bell struck once.
[Ether Tree System , Installation in progress]
Alex blinked. The words floated in his vision, pale blue and semi-transparent, impossible to ignore.
[Host may bind one target. Receive 10× feedback from target's growth and achievements. Current limitation: one target slot, twenty-four hour duration only. Slots and duration expand with host rank advancement.]
He shot upright so fast the mattress creaked.
"What the hell is this?"
The panel stayed there, patient and glowing.
Alex had read enough novels, played enough isekai games. This was it, the famous cheat system. The golden finger. The thing that turned losers into walking disasters.
He crossed his arms and glared at the floating text.
"I don't trust free power-ups. There's always a catch. Always."
The system responded, slower this time, almost careful.
[Correct. Creator has one standing order for the host: Prevent the world's end. Failure results in soul extraction and eternal torment.]
Alex went very still. His mouth felt dry.
"...Who is your creator?"
[Information restricted at current host level.]
He let out a short, bitter laugh and rubbed his face with both hands.
"Of course it is."
Three days. Elara's duel was in three days. He was weak, untrained in this body, and she was already strong enough to make grown knights look like children. He didn't have the luxury of saying no.
"Fine," he muttered. "I accept."
A jolt hit him, sharp, electric, starting in his chest and racing down his arms and legs like he'd grabbed a live wire. His teeth clicked together. Then it faded, leaving only a faint warm buzz behind his ribs.
[Installation complete. Ether Tree System online. Host may now select first binding target.]
Alex swung his legs off the bed and stood. His room felt too small all of a sudden. He needed air. Needed to think.
He walked out into the corridor of the count's castle. The stone was cold under his bare feet. Torches flickered in iron brackets, throwing long shadows. His mind was already racing.
Who to bind? With his meta-knowledge from the game, he had options most people here could only dream of. His eyes lit up.
"System," he said under his breath, "does the linked target have to be alive?"
[Negative. Deceased targets eligible. Requirement: one complete skeletal bone per binding. Bone vanishes upon link expiration.]
Alex almost grinned.
"Wait, hold on. Any restrictions?"
[Warning: Host cannot exploit deceased high-tier entities (elder dragons, demon lords, archmages of Nazric tier, etc.) to bypass stages. Host's original body must maintain minimum strength equivalence, at least 1/100th of the bound target's peak power, at time of linking.]
"Tch." Alex clicked his tongue. "Figures. I was already picturing Nazric's finger bone turning me into an ice god overnight. Bury the whole continent."
The system stayed silent. No apology, no lecture. Just the rule.
Alex smirked to himself. He had crazier ideas anyway, ideas that might make even this thing question its own logic. But not tonight.
He kept walking until he reached the garden doors, pushed them open, and stepped into the cool night air. The scent of wet earth and pine hit him. Without stopping, he headed straight for the outer castle wall.
He climbed the stone steps to the parapet, swung his legs over, and dropped the short distance to the grass outside. His ankles protested, but he ignored it and started toward the forest line.
His boots sank into mud almost immediately.
"Damn it," he muttered, shaking one foot. "Where was that spot again…"
[Query: What is host searching for?]
Alex smiled in the dark.
"A corpse. Knight, fifth-layer. Not impressive on the endgame scale, but out here, far from the capital, someone that strong would've been a baron at least. Landed, titled, respected. Perfect first target."
He kept talking as he walked, mostly to himself.
"If I can link him, even for twenty-four hours, I get ten times whatever strength feedback he had when he was alive. My duel with Elara won't end with my head rolling. Not this time."
[Proceed as host deems optimal.]
The system went quiet again.
Alex pushed through some low branches and stepped into a small clearing. There he was, a figure in battered iron armor, sitting upright against a thick oak trunk. Helmet off, head tilted forward. A skeleton now, long dead. A folded letter lay beside one gauntleted hand.
Alex approached slowly. The smell hit him, damp rot, old metal, something sour. He pinched his nose and stopped a few steps away.
He crouched and picked up the letter with two fingers.
The handwriting was careful, tired.
*My dearest Mara and little Toren,
If you find this, I did not make it home. The key is hidden inside my breastplate, right side, under the lining. It opens the small vault beneath the floorboards in our house. Enough coin for the two of you to live quietly for many years. Tell Toren his father loved him. Tell Mara I'm sorry.*
Alex stared at the words for a long moment. His throat felt tight.
He reached out and tapped the iron shoulder plate gently.
"You worked hard, knight," he said quietly. "Rest easy."
He folded the letter and slipped it into his own pocket.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure they get it. Both of them."
Then he looked down at the armored legs.
"Sorry," he muttered. "But I need this."
He gripped the right femur through the rusted greave, braced himself, and pulled. The bone came free with a dry crack. He didn't look back at the rest of the skeleton.
Alex stood, clutching the bone, and jogged a dozen steps away before he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
No curse. No sudden pain. No ghostly knight rising for revenge.
He exhaled hard in relief.
"Okay. Good."
He turned and started the walk back toward the castle walls, already turning over plans for the duel in three days. With this, he might actually survive it.