Chapter 165: Act 98 – The Fall (3)
Indeed, one could say that time is running out. However, that is only relative; the activities of the Blackfire cultists in this forest mean that danger lurks at every corner.
On the other hand, what reassured Brendel was that he knew the Blackfire cultists were currently busy causing trouble for Makarolo and Bud, while on his side, they merely had to face the sparsely defended lair of the lizardmen. Although a battle was inevitable, just as he understood that those lizardmen appeared to be a gang of robbers, they were actually part of the druid’s hidden strategy—because the strategy clearly stated that the entire event was a trap, and some officials in Shubli Town had already been bribed by the druids, digging a pit just waiting for Makarolo to jump in. Of course, the sly fox was indeed living up to his reputation; even under such circumstances, he had managed to rely on his keen instincts to ensure the only heir of the Grand Duke of Luun was sent out safely, but he himself was bound to face a big mess.
But what did all this have to do with Brendel? The strategy mentioned that the Blackfire cultists ultimately did not join forces with the lizardmen, because the plot would end before that, which meant their only opponents were those underdeveloped reptiles. Just a glance at the more than twenty silver-armored elven heavy infantry behind him, covered in shimmering armor with winged visors leaving only their light silver eyes visible, filled him with confidence. Those were the elven royal guards, the Phoenix Guard—the backbone of the land forces from the Sacred Alliance back in the day. Although the only elven guard commander wearing a golden helmet had explicitly informed him that their strength was diminishing rapidly after distancing themselves from the altar, Brendel was not worried; the lizardmen’s lair was within two days’ journey from the altar—still before the half-life of these elven royal guards’ strength.
Moreover, even after undergoing half-life decay, the elven soldiers of the Phoenix Guard remained comparable to elite level thirty fighters, easily overwhelming the lizardmen. The only concern was the Blackfire cultists, who were currently playing hide and seek with Bud. By the time they realized what had happened, Brendel thought he would have already taken the Philosopher’s Stone and Medisa’s necklace and escaped further away, leaving them with a pile of reptilian corpses.
Treasure, quest items, experience—none of it could be missed.
Especially for a hardcore player.
Brendel even repeatedly considered how best to design a strategy using the ‘resources’ he had at hand to take down that potential level 50 BOSS god. Using high-level NPCs to defeat a BOSS was one of the most exhilarating things in the game; as for Conrad, the leader of that card-hiring mercenary group, he could be treated as a side dish.
Of course, apart from these daydreams, there were still some headaches for Brendel.
Most silver elves had a silent and proud demeanor; they trailed this group from a distance—actually, they just needed to be confident that no one could bypass them to attack Brendel at this distance. While humans were their allies, the silver elves held themselves in high esteem and were unwilling to walk alongside human mercenaries, which was only reasonable. Of course, this ‘reasonableness’ was simply their own perception; Brendel’s mercenaries from Lubis were already filled with resentment; when had they been so looked down upon?
Husher glanced back at the elven soldiers and couldn’t help but frown; he knew how terrifying these guys were from behind, so he didn’t say much, only remarked, “Lord, the Unicorn Knight card is the core card of the ‘Eternal Song’ deck, capable of resonating only with the subcards of the same deck—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Brendel interrupted this uncle’s words in his mind: “You’ve already said that six times. The main card is silver quality, and the two subcards must also be silver quality, right? I can recite it by heart. I do care about this, but you’ve noticed that card is getting closer to us. I think there’s something odd about it; why don’t we sit back and wait?”
Husher smiled; he knew this point well, but it seemed this lord was often indifferent to such crucial matters. It should be known that the stronger the wayfarer was, the stronger their summoned creatures would be, yet Brendel seemed unwilling to grasp this point. He had hinted more than once that Brendel should focus on the wayfarer’s training and collecting cards, but Brendel still did things his own way, step by step.
This mercenary captain, though experienced, had no idea what Brendel’s intentions were. Did he merely wish to become a lord ruling over a territory? In Husher’s view, that seemed too meaningless, especially after coming into contact with the world of wayfarers. After all, mortals are just mortals, and the ultimate goal of wayfarers is to explore the truth of this world and seek a path toward a higher existence.
Compared to that, does everything in the mortal realm still hold any allure? Husher couldn’t help but stroke his stubbly chin, somewhat perplexed by Brendel’s thoughts.
However, he probably didn’t realize that Brendel’s current thoughts were more ‘straightforward’ than he imagined, as he was drooling over a pile of loot that might not even exist. The allure of a BOSS for players always persists, especially when you know you have the chance to take it down for equipment. Just when the young man was getting lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt a tap on his back.
This shock was significant; Brendel’s soul nearly left his body as he turned around and saw a shiny golden helmet and a pair of silver-gray eyes beneath it.
The elven commander.
Brendel recognized him at a glance, unable to resist cursing inwardly, wondering why this guy was so stealthy. He then patted his chest, relieved, and asked, “What’s up?” However, the elven commander was somewhat aggrieved; while the Phoenix Guard were touted as the strongest heavy infantry in the continent—of course, that was a standard from nearly seven centuries ago—their strength lay in combat skills and equipment, not in stealth. Brendel was startled purely because he had been daydreaming too intensely.
The elven commander did not feel any guilt for startling the leader of this group; indeed, if he took off his helmet, he might be so handsome that Brendel would be jealous to death. However, there was not a hint of expression on his face at this moment. He simply gestured coldly and said in a low voice, “There’s a group of people fleeing toward us.”
“Fleeing?” Brendel froze for a moment, noticing the term he used. He wondered who would be fleeing in this direction at this time; theoretically, Bud and his group should be to the south. The strategy made this very clear, and Brendel believed it without doubt, as since he arrived in this world, history had never deviated even slightly.
The elven commander looked at him with his silver-gray eyes, seemingly displeased with his question, but he still nodded.
Brendel knew that this wooden-headed fellow wouldn’t joke with him—though he had always doubted whether these guys could even joke or if the word ‘joke’ had no explanation in their dictionary. But that was not important; he immediately raised his hand to signal for the others to stop. Brendel had already established authority among this group (excluding the silver elves), and with a gesture, the mercenaries immediately halted.
The drowsy Antinna and Romaine also perked up at this moment, with the merchant miss curiously asking, “What’s wrong, Brendel?”
Brendel made a shushing gesture, and sure enough, he soon heard rustling footsteps passing through the bushes. The footsteps were chaotic, as if in a panic, indicating that a group was fleeing for their lives. He glanced at the elf beside him, and could not help but admire; no wonder they were high-level NPCs, their alertness was not something ordinary players could compare to.
He had seen many players go on adventures as if they were on a spring outing, which was quite unbearable. Of course, individual player strength could be formidable, and sometimes even a surprise attack could be turned back around, which was another story.
He listened closely again and indeed caught another sound from further away—it was pursuers, on mounts.
Brendel’s expression immediately turned serious; the only two factions capable of using mounts in this area were the lizardmen with their traditional dragon-hunting cavalry and the Blackfire cultists with their demons. Warhorses find it very difficult to exert their advantages in forests, especially in hilly forested regions; Brendel had yet to see anyone reckless enough to gallop through the dense woods in this hilly terrain.
He quickly signaled for everyone to spread out and prepare for battle.
However, the next moment, the panicked fugitives entered his line of sight. A group of six, with an equal number of men and women, all tattered like refugees. They were covered in various wounds, but thankfully, at least they hadn’t lost their weapons—keeping their weapons indicated they hadn’t lost their fighting spirit, which was enough to show that they were exceptionally skilled mercenaries.
It was precisely this that allowed Brendel to recognize their identities from their attire: mercenaries from the Grey Wolf Mercenary Group.
No, these were not just mercenaries from the Grey Wolf Group, Brendel squinted. This group included the Jadalan mercenaries, one of the rare heavy infantry from the Grey Wolf mercenary group, whom Brendel had happened to meet before.
However, he immediately frowned; something was wrong, according to the strategy, the Blackfire cultists and the Grey Wolves should not appear in this direction. After thinking for a moment, he considered it possible that they were among the few mercenaries separated from Bud and the others, although the chance of having gone in such a counterproductive direction seemed small; comparing with the other possibilities, Brendel was more inclined to believe this reason.
The mercenaries, male and female, looked shocked when they saw Brendel’s group, their expressions almost despairing. However, the next moment, one among them recognized Brendel. In fact, Brendel also recognized him; it was the young man who had exchanged a few words with him that afternoon along with Leidi. Compared to that rash white-haired lad, Brendel had a much better impression of this young man.
What was his name again? Oh, right! Sanford!
“Mister Brendel, help us!” The young man named Sanford seemed to see a lifeline, suddenly kneeling down and raising his head, pleading urgently.
Brendel didn’t like meddling in others’ business, but he wasn’t one to watch someone die without attempting to help, especially now that he was holding the Phoenix Guard’s thigh; this was the perfect time to use their might—he knew the Grey Wolf Mercenary Group was on its last legs; Makarolo had wronged those old subordinates by treating them as cannon fodder, but that couldn’t change the fact that most of these people were experienced warriors—they were mercenaries, with no other path available, and under such conditions, the young man could very well bargain to bring them over.
Jadalan people, one of the finest mercenaries. With that thought, Brendel immediately nodded, ordering his mercenaries to protect these people, while simultaneously asking the most pressing question on his mind:
“How did you end up here?”
“We…” Unfortunately, before Sanford could answer, the pursuing soldiers had already provided the answer.
From not far off, the trees rustled, the leaves shook, and then several knights riding ‘wild boars’ burst from behind. Of course, they were not actually wild boars; aside from those wooden elves behind, probably only Brendel recognized what those Blackfire cultists were riding.
Infernal Beasts, low-level demons resembling wild boars but with mottled patches of brown and green, sporting pairs of tusks and four eyes. Infernal Beasts were an important composition of the low-tier cavalry for demons, pairing with the Blackfire cultists to complement each other; however, Brendel gasped at the sight of these cultists.
“Mister Brendel, be careful… they… are a bit odd,” Sanford whispered a warning.
Of course they were odd! Brendel couldn’t help but curse inwardly—there were more than a dozen Blackfire cultists in front of him, all high-level cultists; how could that not be strange? These were the elite cavalry of the Blackfire cult; why would they be chasing after a group of mercenaries who looked as pitiful as beggars?
No, wait.
He suddenly drew his long sword. Brendel realized something—if they were truly pursuing, Sanford and the others wouldn’t have had the chance to reach this point. This meant they were intentionally driven to this place, but what did that mean, a show of force? He fixated on the Blackfire cultists opposite him, unsure whether these bothersome guys had set their sights on his group, even though they appeared to have no connection.
But just then, the elven commander suddenly said from behind, “There are more people in the forest.”
Brendel immediately looked in that direction—there was no one visible in the forest; he could only see the layers of foliage forming uneven hues. But in the next instant, he suddenly felt a stirring in his heart.
The Unicorn Knight card seemed to pulse with life in his hand.
Goodness, another card reaction!
So it was like this. (To be continued; for further developments, please log in for more chapters, support the author, support legitimate reading!)
