Chapter 563: Act 311 – The Fury Rolling VIII
Hundreds of soldiers silently stood in the torrential rain, the downpour rising mist on the dark shields, rows of spears shining with a cold metallic light extending forward, silently forming a forest of steel on the Evergreen Square.
Sir Marose, the swordsman captain of the 7th Swordsman Brigade of the Ampere Seale Harbor Guard, finally let out a sigh of relief at this moment; he tried not to think about the pale faces beneath the steel helmets and the crooked formations. In any case, they had managed to finish setting up defenses within the expected time.
He turned around and saluted a young man behind him, “General, it’s all done.”
Owen had been staring at the gloomy sky over the harbor—neither the Black Blade Legion nor the Temple gained an advantage over the air force stationed at Ampere Seale; their opponents were simply too strong. The Southern Army had always possessed the most powerful dragon knight regiment in all of Erluin, yet such a force was discarded lightly by the kingdom in another history.
He could not see such a future, but now the two armies fighting in the skies over Ampere Seale were from the same kingdom. Perhaps they should have sought more valuable victories, facing Cruz, Madara, and those more honorable opponents.
He withdrew his gaze, glancing at the defensive line that had taken more than half an hour to establish, and couldn’t help shaking his head. Such a defense was as fragile as a piece of thin paper in front of the White Lion Army; it would collapse with a gust of wind and rain.
However, this was, after all, the wealthiest region of the kingdom. The soldiers here didn’t have to face the northern Cruz people or battle the undead of Madara; their opponents were neither barbarians nor hill tribes. Given this situation, it was already quite decent.
This was the second-rate army of the kingdom, and Owen understood this fact well, nodding expressionlessly, “Mm.”
Sir Marose secretly wiped his sweat, feeling relieved for passing the test. In his opinion, it was somewhat inconceivable; the royal party was not foolish enough to venture north into a trap. Unfortunately, the officer before him belonged to the White Lion Army—everyone well knew that grabbing any noble commander from the White Lion Army would still be a prominent figure in the kingdom, or at least a distinguished descendant of a large family. This young man before him could very likely be the latter—he couldn’t afford to offend such people.
Marose’s indifferent expression fell into Owen’s eyes, deepening his disdain. They were all superficial individuals. He raised his head to look forward—at the other end of the rain curtain, that last strength of the royal party, the cadets of the Royal Academy, what kind of army were they?
He hoped they would not disappoint.
Amidst the rain, Ampere Seale remained dark, yet dawn was almost just a moment away.
“Dulock, Melkan, fourth-year students assemble here!” The young cadet on horseback raised a black battle flag high, like a totem standing in the wind and rain.
The young people of the Royal Military Academy quickly split into ranks, their movements synchronized and well-trained. In the sound of the pouring rain, only footsteps and the occasional clashing of scabbards and leather boots remained.
As they cut through the curtain of rain, the scout cavalry was relaying information:
“Captain, we’ve encountered unidentified enemy forces ahead!”
“They’re blocking our path!”
In the storm, the knight pointed backward, “There are three directions!”
“Reconnaissance, extend to both sides.” Nemeses replied coldly, pulling on the reins—Beside her, Brendel tightened his reins, and the two warhorses came to a halt.
Brendel looked ahead, raindrops sliding down his pale forehead like water beads on a statue. He gestured forward, “This army is advancing from Lion Street—from the Fins Inn to the Silversmith Bridge, two squadrons with over five hundred at the front. They have not reserved any reserve units, so they are likely not a regular army.”
Before he finished speaking, a distant voice came from ahead, “It’s clear, it’s the black spider emblem; they are northern nobles’ private troops!”
“The Helian family, it’s Rodo’s private army. These clowns think they can grab a piece of the pie.” Owen couldn’t help but snorted coldly behind Nemeses.
All eyes turned to Brendel.
“How do you know?” Nemeses turned back, her wet hair sticking to her delicate forehead, her posture in the downpour as straight as a sword. Her expression appeared indifferent and cold, yet her dark eyes were filled with suspicion—though all of this was to conceal the slight trembling caused by pain.
Brendel didn’t answer, remaining motionless atop his horse.
Suddenly, amidst the sound of rain came the rustling noise, densely packed aquamarine spiders turning from translucent to visibly creeping along the main road. Brendel stood with his horse in this ocean of green, the waves flowing beneath the four hooves.
“Ah! Wind Spirit Spiders, so many!” Many young nobles in the crowd recognized them at a glance, unable to contain their astonishment.
“Shut up, stay quiet!” One of the three knights, Mikko, couldn’t help but turn around to scold. He was a young man with short gray hair, his brows short like two little caterpillars, making him look amusingly cute when frowning.
Beside him, Freya and Brensen couldn’t help but smile slightly; the girl in the aquamarine uniform looked up, somewhat admirably at Brendel among the sea of green—in her rear, the Lake Knights silently sat atop their steeds, watching Brendel.
A hint of surprise arose in Nemeses’s dark eyes, as if she sensed something, she asked, “You used them for reconnaissance?”
“I can only issue simple commands to determine the enemy’s position ahead. However…” Brendel looked into the rain and disdainfully shook his head, “I am all too familiar with their tricks.”
“Indeed, compared to the future Madara, it is truly insignificant.”
Brendel closed his eyes, the past battles feeling as if they were right in front of him, the undead army drawing near, and behind them lay a sea of flames and deep abysses.
There was no way out—
“Is that so? If you were the commander, how are you planning to proceed?” The ‘Wolf Knight’ Owen had donned his battle gear; he drew his sword while casually asking.
This lone wolf turned back; Grifian let Brendel take full responsibility for the current situation, but in fact, command over the cadets of the Royal Knight Academy still rested in his hands. The middle-aged man had deeply sunken eyes and a pair of determined eyes featuring strength that could easily be sensed.
“We have no time to tangle with these lowly scoundrels,” Brendel opened his eyes, “There are many two-faced individuals around us; we must completely dispel their intentions.”
“To scare the monkeys, huh?” Owen chuckled, “It seems you have quite a bit of confidence in these young people.”
Brendel looked back and saw over two hundred young faces, their knight uniforms already soaked, hair clumped together, yet only their eyes still shined brightly.
“I have faith in those with ideals.” Brendel replied.
Of course, he only spoke grandly. Without history as a witness, he would never dare to be so bold. But he knew he had to persuade Owen, the effective teacher of the princess and the backbone of the pro-princess faction at this moment.
This kingdom’s lone wolf indeed revealed appreciative eyes; he turned back, quietly glancing at the young people behind him. Most of these young individuals were handpicked by him from various places—like Freya, Brensen, and some from the most loyal families to the royal family. Although they were descendants of minor nobles, they tended to be their most outstanding and steadfast believers. Young people like Mikko were representative of them.
These young individuals were the last hope of the kingdom.
“First cohort of the Royal Knight Academy! Listen to my orders!” Owen suddenly shouted, his voice carrying far with the wind and rain.
Brendel couldn’t help but smile at that moment.
“From now on, you will break through encirclement alongside Knight Brendel until the princess is safe!” Owen asked coldly, “Understood?”
Silence filled the air.
All eyes concentrated on Brendel; if there was anyone they esteemed the most in their hearts, it was undoubtedly the princess. Next in their minds was Nemeses, who had effectively always acted as their commander, with almost no one daring to oppose this lady knight’s authority.
Following that were several top performers among them, especially Brensen and Mikko, while Freya’s status rose significantly after acquiring the Lionheart Sword. However, most still saw her as merely a deputy to the first two.
As for Brendel,
Perhaps until this day, they had never even heard of such a person’s existence. If they were to consider royal leaders like Makarolo or Owen, or experienced military veterans, then perhaps they could gain followers, but Brendel was only barely in his twenties, appearing to be nothing more than some noble offspring. What qualifications did he have to command them?
He might have revealed a skill previously, but that was just the trick of a ‘summoner’, which could hardly count for much on the battlefield.
Normally, strong armies have their own pride; these young people, though they had yet to experience true grand battles, were also the best among their peers. Even if they did not dare to directly defy orders, no one responded to this moment, merely awaiting Brendel’s declaration.
Freya suddenly became nervous, while Brensen cast a glance at Brendel, remaining silent; that young man named Mikko was also coldly staring at Brendel like most others.
Brendel, however, remained silent.
Instead, he issued a command directly.
He urged his horse forward and then turned back to coldly issue orders: “The plebeians blocking the princess’s path are nothing but chickens and dogs; your task now is to give them an unforgettable lesson from the front.”
“But we do not have much time, so you only have a short time to learn this lesson.”
Learn this lesson?
Everyone was taken aback, followed by an uproar. The young cadets of the Royal Knight Academy were stunned for a moment before they grasped the meaning of his words; this guy was implying that he would give them a lesson.
What an audacious claim. Charging with cavalry, not to mention whether they had the ability to give them lessons—But did he have cavalry like that around him?
The young people’s competitive spirit was ignited, and all of them looked at Brendel with a sense of amusement, as if waiting to see how this empty commander would conjure up cavalry to teach them a lesson.
Brendel never indulged in useless talk.
He turned his horse’s head, the Sword of the Earth unsheathed with a clang, and boldly shouted, “Who wishes to be the spearhead, come to my side!”
A silence fell.
Only Freya was the first to ride out. One hand pressed against her sword, her knuckles turning a bit white. For a moment, she felt as though she had returned to that night of fleeing from Ridenburg.
Almost the same circumstances, fighting side by side again. That was a miracle that only he could create.
Two people.
Brensen hesitated for a moment before straying out. “Brendel, what are you doing?” he couldn’t help but whisper.
Brendel glanced at him without answering.
A neigh of a horse seemed to come from the skies. The relentless rain fell like a curtain, and bright white dots emerged from the darkness, gradually coalescing together into a bright light. Amidst it, Medisa walked out slowly, one hand holding a spear, coming forth from the void to Brendel’s side.
Next was Xi, the red-haired girl wielding a battle spear—though no longer the Lance of Thunder—yet it could not hide the aura surrounding her, another golden tier under twenty, silently meeting the gaze of the princess and her teacher.
Charles smiled slightly. As a mage servant, he too must stand with his knight. He gently patted his steed, which seemed to understand his intent and obediently walked to Brendel’s side.
Then there were Medephis and Andrigraphis. The vampire young lady appeared particularly unique, draped in a long cloak, and what she held was no longer her usual blood-forged curved blades—but a longspear pulsating with the power of blood.
The two stood on one horse together.
Then came the Lubis mercenaries, Husher and others, who drew considerable attention from the crowd upon their entry. The Lubis mercenary group’s reputation wasn’t merely in Brendel’s memory but spread across the entire continent. Their bizarre attire attracted everyone’s gaze as soon as they appeared.
“This is impossible!”
“He actually has Lubis mercenaries under his command!”
“It’s said that Lubis mercenaries never leave Fanzan to fight; who is this guy really?”
As an element manifested, five golden figures and several over ten silver existences, although there were still fewer than thirty in total, when these people gathered around Brendel, every person gasped in disbelief.
This was already an army.
Not to mention anyone else, even Princess Grifian couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.
“Although I had heard long ago, I still didn’t expect that his subordinates had become so talented.” She couldn’t help but murmur.
“But he still stands with you, Your Highness.” Owen replied.
“That’s because of his knightly qualities,” the princess sighed, “But do I, the royal family of Corvado, still deserve such honor?”
Owen remained silent.
“That’s a Silver Elf!”
A shout rang out from the crowd; Medisa’s silver hair, silver eyes, and snowy skin were unmistakable. The key point was the glaring, art-like scales she wore, which were unmistakably the battle armor of the legendary Silver Elf.
“The Silver Elf has returned?!”
“I must be seeing things…” Everyone was stunned. The legendary Silver Elf had vanished after a prophecy; they declared they would only fight alongside the Black Iron people again when the four great temples fulfilled their sacred covenant once more.
But with the holy war imminent, the day of the four temples restoring their sacred covenant seemed ever more distant.
Only Owen recognized Medisa’s difference at a glance, “It’s the Spirit.” The princess gently nodded.
His knights were gathering around him.
No one laughed anymore.
The strength beside Brendel was enough for him to become a local lord. Everybody understood this. He raised the longsword in his hand, the Sword of the Earth, as Halangya passed through the rain curtain, the black blade vibrating slightly—
“Listen closely.”
“Don’t let me see anyone lagging behind.”
“Otherwise, you might just flunk your exam—”
The sword fell, and the sound of galloping hooves erupted.
……
(PS: I went out today and started typing when I got home in the afternoon, so it’s a bit late. This should be the last chapter of the Fury Rolling.) (To be continued. If you like this work, please feel free to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets on Qidian (qidian.com), your support is my greatest motivation.)
