Chapter 155: Act 88 – The Dead and the King (3)
The ghostly knight had already picked up on the movement from this side. It silently turned its horse’s head, pointing its long spear forward. The air, wrapped in a layer of icy mist under the night sky, instantly rolled apart to form a vacuum band. Brendel quickly pushed Husher aside and rolled to the other side. Bang, bang, bang! Three loud booms echoed as the vacuum area surged forward, demolishing the tall trees in succession—like an invisible blade slicing through them, sending wood chips flying.
The ghostly knight lowered its hand, and a path over ten feet wide appeared in the forest, leaving no barrier between Brendel and it.
Spirit Lance.
Damn it, do we really have to start with the big moves right away? Brendel cursed silently, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. He thought to himself that it was fortunate he had seen much in his life; as soon as he noticed the ghostly knight raising its right hand, he realized something was off—the Spirit Lance had a penetration attribute and, like his White Crow sword, came with an attack range increase. If they hadn’t dodged in time earlier, he and Husher would likely only have cold, lifeless bodies remaining. As for attracting monsters, that was just a joke.
Husher was just as nervous; he had only heard terrifying tales about the ghostly knight in legends. But facing it in reality made him realize that the enemy was far more formidable than he had imagined. He couldn’t help but spit, thinking that at nearly middle age, he still had to fight like a rookie. The world really changed fast. He glanced at Brendel and saw the young man looking resolute, seemingly unfazed by the ghostly knight’s fierce attack, causing him to draw a sharp breath.
“We can’t beat it.” Husher, being a battle-hardened mercenary, quickly assessed the strength comparison and shouted at Brendel from the other side.
But Brendel simply gestured for him to be quiet.
He raised his short bow—at this moment, the young man could clearly see the terrifying form of the undead. It resembled a classical knight stepping out from the scrolls of Vaunte’s modern masters, clad in gothic plate armor, enveloped in a layer of faint glimmering light. Even the warhorse it sat upon was no ordinary horse; it was an evil spirit. The spear in the knight’s hand resembled a long silver dart, tightly gripped in the middle, with a long pointed end directed toward the ground, as if a transparent silver thread extended from its end.
That was the visual distortion caused by the soul element swirling around the lance.
After reaching the gold tier, whether warrior, mage, knight, or other professions, they began to exhibit elemental power to varying extents.
Husher got up from the ground, trying to intercept Brendel’s next move, wanting to pull him back. To the mercenary captain, his lord or summoner seemed utterly mad; they stood no chance against that monster. The strength displayed by the ghostly knight far exceeded his understanding of typical lower-tier gold-level beings.
However, Brendel paid no heed to his warnings. The young man nocked a silver arrow, aimed briefly, and then released the string.
The Ice Splinter Arrow carved an astounding arc, flying over the ghostly knight’s head. It exploded behind it with a bang, but the silver mist of ice only grazed the monster’s left shoulder, leaving a patch of frost. Brendel couldn’t help but redden slightly, clearing his throat to mask his embarrassment—he had just remembered that he was only proficient in one weapon now, and was no longer the expert warrior with bow skills over forty levels. Yet even so, the explosion of the ice arrow slightly slowed the ghostly knight’s movements. Although the effect was minimal, the long spear it swung a second time went awry, a silver streak of light crossing above the heads of both men. Husher turned to see the canopy behind him vanish without a trace, leaving only bare tree stumps.
He opened his mouth, almost breathless. The Lubis mercenaries were brave in battle, but this fight had exceeded his understanding. Was this thing a walking cannon?
Three seconds.
Realizing Husher wasn’t focused on his shooting issues, Brendel breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, he silently counted, his fingers once again on the short bowstring. The Spirit Lance consumed a tremendous amount of soul fire, and after using it twice, the ghostly knight would enter a cooldown period. He had fought against this type of undead before, so he remained calm. He steadied his short bow, extending the aiming time. To Husher, this act seemed tantamount to seeking death, but Brendel knelt on the ground like a statue—utterly motionless.
He had three seconds.
The second Ice Splinter Arrow was released and still missed, while the third arrow struck the ghostly knight’s waist—silver shards of ice exploded, enveloping half of its body in a gray mist. Brendel saw from his visual readout that he had dealt 13 points of damage, which was almost negligible to the ghostly knight, but the frost covering its armor delayed both its striking and retracting actions by 12.5%.
The effect of the Ice Splinter Arrow was just as he remembered, and Brendel let out a sigh of relief. Although the ghostly knight was a spirit, the magic arrow did not count as a physical attack, so it wouldn’t incur a loss penalty. It was a pity that a pair of elementalist sisters were too low in level; otherwise, the knight’s rate of action could have been reduced by at least half. But it was enough; he still had four arrows left.
“Is it actually effective?” Husher, with his keen eyes, immediately caught on, though he couldn’t see the data like Brendel could; he quickly noticed the ghostly knight’s slight delay in movement.
“Of course,” Brendel replied brusquely, knowing that this guy would only drag him down.
“But even so, we’re still no match for it, my lord.”
“So what?” Brendel retorted.
“Let’s retreat! I’d rather face the Blackfire cultists than this guy!” Husher shouted.
Brendel was too lazy to engage with him and simply tossed another bundle of green magic arrows to Husher. The mercenary captain instinctively caught them, momentarily stunned, and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Of course you’re helping me. Are you just going to stand by?”
Though Husher didn’t understand what “standing by” meant, he could guess that Brendel was unhappy with his earlier performance. The mercenary captain’s face reddened slightly, but he couldn’t help but feel resentment. He thought to himself, not everyone is like my lord, able to face these terrifying foes head-on with a calm demeanor. Was this boldness or sheer foolishness?
But despite his thoughts, the generations of being a mercenary made the Lubis men respect brave and skilled warriors. As for his summoner, although he wouldn’t say it out loud, he instinctively had a high regard for him.
At that moment, Brendel had already shot his fourth Ice Splinter Arrow within three seconds. This one hit the ghostly knight’s right shoulder, causing the armor on it to be covered in a thick layer of ice. The ghostly knight’s operational efficiency had dropped by over thirty percent. Generally, one would feel elated and beat a drowning dog at this time, but the young man remained silent, dragging his mercenary captain to run.
Just as he moved, the ghostly knight and its evil steed swiftly turned and accelerated—not through simple pursuit, but using the most common skill of knights and warriors—charge.
Brendel also activated the charge skill.
The man and the undead dashed through the forest like a black line and a silver line chasing each other. Though only for a brief moment, that scene was hauntingly beautiful. It was as if a striking silver line extended infinitely along a black line on a deep dark canvas, while everything else froze—weaving in stillness, but those two lines kept moving forward.
One chased, one fled.
When Brendel stopped, Husher almost gasped, “My lord, that is…”
“Charge, a knight’s requisite skill,” Brendel glanced at him. “You, as a battle-hardened Lubis mercenary, wouldn’t be unaware of this, right?”
“No, I meant how did you know it would charge at that moment…”
“Ah, in the mountains of Orkash, the main opponents of the hunters were ghostly knights. Haven’t I told you this story?” Brendel answered absently, as he was actually so tense that he didn’t even know what he was saying, his heart racing in fear of dying at any moment. He turned back and saw that the ghostly knight had indeed stopped almost simultaneously—an elegantly beautiful creature, its slender, silver-clad hand tightened the reins, and two pale flames ignited beneath its visor, looking in this direction.
That gaze seemed to inquire—who are you? You appear to be a challenging opponent? Where do you come from?
Initially, both were about a hundred meters apart; now they were scarcely fifty. Brendel realized his estimated error was no more than a meter.
He was almost fighting on instinct alone.
The instinct of a warrior.
…
In fact, it wasn’t just Husher who found it hard to believe; when the two straight lines split the forest in two, Antinna couldn’t help but exclaim. The mercenaries behind her fell silent—Brendel and the ghostly knight’s actions and judgments mirrored each other, as if every movement of the latter was transparent to the former. In fact, it took almost a second after this moment for them to grasp how perilous the preceding events had been.
Romaine bit her lip, her bright eyes watching in that direction, a flicker of excitement lighting them up.
“If the younger generation of the Highland Knights of Karasu is like this, then Erluin has long been an unrivaled strong country!” The noblewoman inhaled sharply, “This cheat…”
However, Brendel was not as optimistic as she was; the ghostly knight was fast, and its charge still had a minute cooldown. The soul fire was also rekindling, not to mention that its big skills were far from over. The young man halted and immediately gestured for Husher to follow. The two quickly circled to a low area in the valley, where the interspersed rocks could help nullify the ghostly knight’s horseback advantage.
But Brendel did not simply retreat; the utility of the Ice Splinter Arrows bought him time, and now he needed to use that time—
“Husher.”
“Here.”
“Use the Wind Arrow.”
“What?”
Brendel gestured, and Husher paused, quickly understanding.
Although the mercenary captain had always opposed engaging this monster, at this moment, he found himself instinctively immersed in the battle.
…
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