William Ford did not rush to get up. With his eyes closed, he slowly connected and sorted through everything in his mind. The faintly musty smell of linen fed back to his sensory center through his nose. Suddenly, he opened his eyes, unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing, and looked down.

On the area over his heart, a sinister and evil ghost-head tattoo had suddenly appeared. Compared to the tattoo on Brian Grant's chest, William Ford noticed that the eyes in his own chest tattoo were especially prominent. The number 13776 was inscribed on the tattoo. William Ford felt a chill in his heart—wasn’t this the number assigned to Brian Grant? In other words, once the numbered person died, even his code name would be taken over by someone else?

This cruel reality sent a shiver through William Ford. His gaze suddenly fell on the clumsy, low wooden table beside him, where a roll of parchment was faintly glowing.

“Task one: Enter the world of the Knights of the Round Table, familiarize yourself with its rules, and near the village of the First Act of War, kill seven masked thralls and two greatsword warriors, earning more than 300 points.”

“Task two: Prevent Squad No. 348 from killing the Judgement Knight, Scorn.”

“Task three: Ensure that at least four members of Squad No. 348 die.”

“Consequence of failing to complete the tasks: Erasure.”

William Ford took a deep breath. Not only did he feel no fear, but there was even a twisted, abnormal excitement in his heart. In such a bizarre situation, the neuralgia that had tormented him for years was finally cured without medicine!

After he finished reading, the parchment instantly burst into flames and was burned to ashes. However, William Ford could sense that its contents could be accessed at any time from the tattoo—his nightmare mark—on his chest, and any questions in his mind could be directed to it for answers.

William Ford thought carefully and decided that the most important thing right now was to confirm one thing. He silently said in his heart, “Show the time when Squad No. 348 enters the world of the Knights of the Round Table.”

Before his eyes, a rapidly ticking red number suddenly appeared: 72 hours. There were seven minutes and thirty-one seconds left before entering the world of the Knights of the Round Table. Below the number was a series of menus, and wherever William Ford's mind focused, the options would immediately pop up: “Scenario: Knights of the Round Table, Act 11. Difficulty: Easy (D-level). Pain reduction: 70%. Personal melee ability enhancement: 100%. (Squad 348’s personal ability enhancement: 10%.) This scenario is a peace scenario: killing characters from the Nightmare Space will not drop any items. Enable digital character information mode?”

William Ford pondered for a while, summarizing the information he had just obtained: First, he still had three days to familiarize himself with this completely unfamiliar world. Second, the first task listed on the parchment was clearly a concrete step toward that goal.

He then tapped the button for digital character information, and a panel immediately popped up: “Information for No. 13776: Strength 3 (5), Agility 4 (6), Stamina 4 (6), Spirit 13 (5). Numbers in parentheses are the average values for a healthy thirty-year-old man. If spirit drops below 2, the character falls into a coma; if stamina drops below 2, the character cannot move. Strength determines damage and carrying capacity; agility is the speed and reaction ability; stamina determines resistance to abnormal states and ability to withstand damage; spirit represents intelligence and willpower.”

William Ford compared the stats and found that, except for spirit (i.e., intelligence and willpower), which was far above average, he had no advantage in the other attributes. In particular, strength and agility, which were related to fighting and damage, were much lower than normal. Below the stats, there was a long, bright red bar, which was presumably his health bar, representing how much damage he could take. The health bar equaled stamina times ten.

Time was precious. He picked up a battered short sword leaning by the bed, put on the old leather armor hanging on the wall, and pushed open the door, only to be prompted: Two minutes and seventeen seconds until entering the world of the Knights of the Round Table.

He stood quietly in place, waiting. When the time was up and the door opened, a surge of heat suddenly rushed through William Ford's body, instantly flooding him from head to toe. The short sword, which had felt heavy in his hand, suddenly became much lighter. After a moment’s thought, he opened his personal menu and saw that his strength, agility, and stamina—attributes that determined melee combat—had all doubled to 6, 8, and 8 points, respectively.

Outside was a vast plain. By starlight, he could see that the farmers’ fields were poorly tended, the pastures were overgrown with various shrubs, and there were almost no independent farms. In the north, a spot of light shone on the main road, probably a fairly large town. William Ford fetched a basin of water from the nearby stream, and while washing up, he discovered he now had a spray-bottle-like item on him. Following the prompt from the nightmare mark, he sprayed some on his face and found that his appearance quickly changed to that of a European. After thinking for a moment, William Ford headed toward the town.

The town’s buildings were usually scattered along both sides of a street or clustered around a green. This architectural style was probably originally designed to protect livestock from bandits and wolves.