Chapter One: Purgatory Island

The sky above the Sea of Death was eternally shrouded in a murky grayness. The only thing clearly visible was the blood-red moon hanging there, like the scythe of the god of the underworld, exuding a terrifying aura. The black ocean seemed as lifeless as death itself; rarely could anything living be seen. The water flowed sluggishly, releasing the stench of decay akin to corpses.

Harsh living conditions, formidable beasts, and unpredictable, ever-changing weather had turned this place into a forbidden zone for life.

This was Purgatory Isle.

The island was covered in dense jungles, home to all manner of fierce creatures whose monstrous cries echoed with terror. Occasionally, a lost merchant ship would pass by, and the mournful howls could be heard, like the lament of tormented souls—each cry piercingly sorrowful.

Privately, people called it Howling Isle or Nightmare Island.

About twenty years ago, after King Streak officially declared the Sea of Death a forbidden zone for humans, legends about Nightmare Island never ceased. Some claimed that the most powerful beasts of Windhowl Continent were imprisoned there; others whispered that the century-old treasure of the Kingdom of Lance was hidden there. The most outlandish rumor spoke of it as the last dwelling of the famed alchemist Electra three centuries prior, where all his world-shaking discoveries lay buried.

Legends remain mere stories, and reality is seldom pleasant. On the contrary, it may be exceedingly cruel.

The "Liberty"—a three-masted oceanic sailboat—cut through the waves of the Sea of Death, forging ahead.

Like all the other boys, Gong Hao crouched in a cramped, dark cabin; the stale air nearly suffocated him.

Three days ago, Gong Hao's memories were still anchored in a chemistry lab. As his mentor’s capable assistant, he was preparing all the necessary materials for an experiment. The trouble was the new female assistant—besides her flirtatious mannerisms, she had no real skill. Word was she had entered the university’s advanced lab relying on family connections, seeking only to bolster her credentials and bask in the mentor’s reputation.

Annoying—if she wanted to play at being competent, fine, but why meddle with things she didn't understand? Now look what happened: the laboratory exploded, everyone died. She brought disaster on herself and others.

From there, everything unfolded naturally.

He found himself inhabiting the body of a boy named Shuy Grell, in a world utterly unfamiliar, and inherited all the boy’s memories.

Shuy Grell had originally been a servant in the household of Baron Harden in Southwell Town.

The Harden family had a history of one hundred and twenty years in the Lance Empire. Old Harden once served as the Empire’s Master of Ceremonies and was granted the title of Count.

Yet, over those one hundred and twenty years, the Harden family gradually lost its former glory and became a fallen noble house. In the past two decades, no genius had emerged to elevate the family’s status. The only one with some ambition was Gavin Harden, whose highest achievement was serving as secretary to the Lord of the Noz Isles. Not long after, he married a woman whose beauty was renowned throughout the Noz Isles, and this brought misfortune upon him. Ultimately, he was forced to return with his family to the Harden ancestral home in Southwell Town.

Shuy Grell was an orphan, raised by his aunt. Three years ago, his aunt decided Shuy was old enough to live on his own and sold him to Baron Gavin for twenty gold vitts, with a contract lasting three years.

Twenty gold vitts was not cheap; even Baron Harden hesitated before paying, but Shuy’s handsome features were too appealing. The Baron’s lovely wife instantly took to the boy and insisted he be purchased.

Seven days ago, Shuy’s contract expired. The Baroness wanted to keep him as a companion for her son, but his aunt demanded forty gold vitts. That price was more than the Baron could afford, so his aunt put Shuy on the market, where he was eventually bought at a high price by a warrior clad in golden armor.

It was then that Gong Hao’s soul was grafted onto the boy called Shuy. Helplessly, he found himself crammed into the ship’s hold with all the other boys, drifting at sea for two days.

Was this possession? Or did he drink too little of the elixir of oblivion during his reincarnation? Or perhaps Gong Hao’s existence was merely a figment of young Shuy Grell’s imagination? Or was everything happening just a dream Gong Hao was having?

Some questions have no answers.

There was a bowl of water in the ship’s lower hold. Gong Hao carefully cupped it, and through the rippling surface, he saw a face as handsome as a porcelain doll. Shuy, this boy, had beautiful golden hair and eyes full of spirit—one glance and anyone would be captivated. No wonder the Baroness was so reluctant to let him go.

And now, this was his body.

“Hey, Shuy,” Fink’s voice sounded in his ear.

Freckle-faced Fink was Shuy’s only friend on the ship; both had been purchased from the market in Southwell Town. They had been brought aboard, not knowing their destination or who their future master would be.

“What is it, Fink?” Gong Hao whispered back.

“It’s the Sea of Death,” Fink said quietly.

“What?” Gong Hao didn’t understand at first.

Fink insisted, “I said, we’re in the human forbidden zone, on the Sea of Death. I can smell that stench—it’s like the odor of the undead.”

Gong Hao lowered his head and said nothing. So what if it was the Sea of Death? He was a purchased servant, as were all the children on the ship. Even if they arrived in paradise, their fate would not change.

Damn fate—it had thrust him into this child’s body, granted him eight more years of youth, and stripped away his freedom.

“You talk as if you’ve seen the undead yourself,” another boy nearby chimed in quietly.

“It all stinks, anyway,” Fink retorted.

The childish chatter echoed in Gong Hao’s ears.

Outside, the sky remained gray; the clouds hung so low they seemed within reach.

After days at sea, nowhere else was as frightening or lifeless as the Sea of Death.

Was this what his life would be like from now on?

It was like a nightmare.

The Liberty finally reached its destination.

Breaking through a veil of mist, Purgatory Isle loomed ahead.

From a distance, one could vaguely see a middle-aged man standing at the edge of the island, beside him a puppet warrior fashioned from mithril and other magical metals.

Behind the middle-aged man stood about twenty boys, all no older than fourteen, the youngest barely ** years old, each with a heavy iron chest as tall as themselves.

Behind them, another group of puppet warriors stood at attention.

The large ship drew close, the skiff lowered, and two people came ashore—a white-bearded mage in black robes and a warrior clad in golden armor.

“Welcome to Nightmare Island, Master Erdoris. I never expected you would deliver the goods personally this time,” the middle-aged man greeted with laughter.

The white-bearded black-robed mage waved his staff and replied gruffly, “There’s too much cargo this time—too many materials that can’t be preserved at room temperature. The barrier’s range had to be expanded. With the supply of crystals insufficient, manpower had to substitute for them to keep the temperature barrier running properly.”

To make a black-robed mage handle delivery work—no wonder his tone was sour.

The golden-armored warrior beside him smiled, “Let’s hope Master Erdoris didn’t make the trip in vain.”

“Oh, Chakley, listen to yourself. Look: twenty puppet warriors, fifteen flesh golems, fifteen undead golems, fifteen spirit golems, plus the potions, scrolls, weapons, and all else you requested—everything completed on schedule.” The middle-aged man pointed to the metal chests and the puppet warriors behind him as he spoke.

Erdoris complained, “These are just ordinary goods—not enough for a single battle. His Majesty wants the Troll God.”

“The master has been working on it for a long time. Regrettably, we’ve managed to create the Troll God, but have not solved the issue of control,” the middle-aged man answered, disappointed.

Erdoris snorted, “It was the same twenty years ago, and still is. For twenty years, the materials and support we’ve provided would suffice for a small nation, but he’s made no substantial progress.”

The golden-armored warrior quietly reminded, “Master Heinz is already the best alchemist in the Empire. There’s no need to get so worked up. Even before the Troll God project began, Master Heinz said it might be his life’s work.”

“But for this research, we’ve sent all the Empire’s materials, books, and countless apprentices and servants here. This alone has delayed a generation of alchemists. If he can’t produce real results, alchemy in the Empire will truly decline.”

“In fact... it’s been declining for a long time,” Chakley muttered, rubbing his nose.

Erdoris glared at him, but Chakley ignored it—he handed a list to the middle-aged man. “Here’s the goods required for next month.”

“No problem,” the man replied casually, accepting the list. “As long as you have enough materials, we’ll provide whatever you need.”

Erdoris finally said, “Alright, unload the cargo, and take this junk back aboard. I doubt I’ll ever see the day the Troll God is loaded onto a ship.”

The middle-aged man responded politely, “If the Troll God is ever completed, it will never need to be shipped anywhere.”

Erdoris shot him an angry look but said nothing.

“Hey, Shuy, it’s time to disembark—we’ve arrived,” Fink reminded him.

“Got it,” Gong Hao answered lazily.

The group of boys filed off the ship—fifteen in total.

After landing, the fifteen boys lined up as if awaiting inspection, with the middle-aged man as their examiner.

Facing the group, the man called out loudly, “Alright, young ones, welcome to Purgatory Isle—this is the end of the line for you. From now on, you will work and live here. You must address me as Lord Andrew and follow my orders. Perhaps you haven’t worked before, but you must quickly adapt to your new lives... Has anyone here served a noble before?”

Fink nudged Gong Hao.

Gong Hao reluctantly raised his hand. “I have.”

“What’s your name, and where are you from?”

“Grell—Shuy Grell, from Southwell Town, twelve years old. My aunt sold me here.”

“No parents?”

“They died when I was four.”

“How did they die?”

“The Black Plague.”

“Ah!” The middle-aged man nodded. “I’ve heard about it—eight years ago there was a black wizard rebellion in the Noz Isles. They used plague as a weapon against the Empire. It killed countless ordinary people but served no other purpose. Seems you were one of the victims.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Address me as Lord Andrew. Which noble did you serve before?”

“Lord Andrew, I worked at Baron Harden’s estate in Southwell Town as a handyman since I was nine. I can cook and read a little.”

“You can read?” Andrew’s tone was filled with surprise. Most servants brought here came from poor families, barely able to eat, let alone read.

“Yes, my lord. Thanks to the Baroness’s kindness, she let me learn alongside her son so the young master wouldn’t feel too lonely.”

Andrew studied Gong Hao thoughtfully. “You’re lucky, boy, to have had a good employer. But don’t expect any kindness here like the Baroness showed. This is Nightmare Island. A pretty face is worthless here.”

Then he raised his voice to address all the boys: “I must regretfully inform you—I am a very strict man. I will not tolerate mistakes or defiance. Anyone who dares to disobey or neglect their duties will face severe punishment!”