Chapter 625: Act 368 – Requiem XVIII
The sky was filled with a horde of demons that turned in mid-air, swooping down towards the humans near the second gate of flames, like shadows beneath a monstrous claw sweeping across the horizon. Brendel was reminded of the great locust plague that hit Solanel in the second year of the Age of Faith; the cloud of locusts then was a true reflection of the scene before him today.
The second gate of flames was fully shattering, collapsing into fluttering fragments, merging into the pouring rain like countless golden butterflies dispersing. Princess Grifian stood in the rain, looking up at the scattered flames, and a glimmer of hope rose deep within her. This half-elf princess pressed her lips together and clenched her fists.
However, the remaining knights were still caught up in their excitement, their high confidence and morale seemingly making them disregard the battlefield’s precarious state. Only Nicolas and Reld held some doubts in their hearts, turning to look at Brendel. They clearly understood that Gherlok had effectively lost his ability to cast spells and that their hope of approaching the third teleportation gate with surprise depended solely on whether this young man who had brought miracles could once again astonish them.
The torrential rain even drowned out the screams of the demons behind the curtain of rain.
Brendel stood in the downpour, forcing a semblance of calm on his face. Although he felt no certainty, he knew he couldn’t be pessimistic or despairing. At the very least, he must not let others perceive his hesitation.
“We have to find a way to fight our way through,” he replied quietly.
“How do we fight our way through?” the knights and Nicolas asked in unison. However, in contrast to the knights’ brimming confidence, Nicolas was genuinely seeking advice. Although he had been on opposing sides with Brendel just a few hours ago, he held no ill will towards him. On the contrary, he admired Brendel’s calmness in battle against the demons.
Young swordsmen like Erluin were few and far between. He saw a reflection of his own training days in Brendel, but Brendel’s accomplishments were certainly greater. And age-wise, he was almost from Brendel’s parents’ generation, feeling no jealousy, only admiration.
How to fight through.
For Brendel, this was a core issue. He looked up through the rain curtain at the crimson tide sweeping across the greenish meadows, and he could even feel faint tremors emanating from the ground. Beside him, together with the witch and all the others, there were only about twenty or thirty people, many of whom were injured or out of combat, including non-combatants like Antinna and Dierphir.
If he was to say this team could forge a path through the demon army, even Brendel himself wouldn’t believe it. Overcoming opponents with sheer will was but a joke in such dire circumstances.
There was only one opportunity remaining.
The Cloak of the Giant King, Buni, had about thirty breath durations left, roughly a minute. This cloak could accommodate a few people without issue, but the problem was that one minute would certainly not be enough for them to reach the other teleportation gate from this one.
Although two kilometers was not a long distance, it meant traversing through the demon horde.
“Split into two groups,” Brendel contemplated silently for a moment and finally responded. His purpose was simple, using one group as bait to attract the demons’ attention while the other group, under the protection of Buni’s cloak, escorted Antinna and Charles to the third teleportation gate.
He briefly outlined his plan, and Nicolas and Reld understood. The commander of the old White Lion Army pondered for a moment before saying, “This is indeed the only way forward, but I wonder how Mr. Brendel plans to divide the groups?”
Brendel fell silent for a moment, as he already had a plan in mind.
With the presence of the Giant King’s cloak, this team could have a very simple configuration. First, Antinna and Charles needed to be included as the ‘demolition’ squad, and another person was needed to deal with the long-horned demons by the teleportation gate.
Brendel’s ideal candidates were Antinna, Charles, Nicolas, Dierphir, Her Highness the Princess, alongside Gherlok and JarSugar. Of course, Brendel did not deny that his inclusion of the princess stemmed from his own selfish desires, but regardless, if the princess were to die here, everything he had done before would become meaningless.
If that were the case, he might as well not have come to Ampere Seale; history would have progressed as it previously had, and there would be no demon invasion at all.
Only by truly changing Erluin’s future would everything that happened today, and those who died, become of value.
As for JarSugar and Gherlok’s inclusion, the reason was even simpler; he could not allow an unconscious young girl without combat capability to face death. Moreover, the incapacitated old wizard was included for similar reasons.
When Brendel voiced his thoughts, silence fell around him. Indeed, who could willingly choose to face death? At least Brendel himself would not do so so easily. Because the meaning of this endeavor was completely different from previous reckless adventures; this time, their task was to die.
He raised his head and looked at the blurred faces of everyone in the rain—much like during his time in “Amber Sword,” staring at the faces of every comrade who had left together in the crimson canyon.
“I’m sorry, but we have no way back,” Brendel replied, “I hope you will help me at least once more at the end. I do not wish to deceive anyone. Today, in this place, at best we might achieve victory; at worst, I at least hope to die alongside you all.”
Brendel believed he had no right to ask anyone to die for a purpose, no matter how lofty that purpose might be. Half of his soul came from the modern world, within which certain deep-seated ideas were ingrained, like the notion that all men are created equal.
At that moment, for the first time, he felt that some players’ ideas seemed unsuitable for this world. Because he could not treat everyone as NPCs; they were living, breathing beings. Even though he had long since gotten used to adventuring like a player, it was not until this adventure that everyone was drawn into it.
The princess was not his princess; Erluin was not solely his Erluin. Perhaps he understood that all of this was correct, but in the ideal versus reality, he might not have the right to help others decide.
Especially for those who had lived on this land for generations, surviving might be the most important choice. Until that moment, Brendel suddenly realized this was not a tremor but an unprecedented maturation.
To give and receive, one must first learn to bear responsibility.
In the face of true death, Brendel finally understood this.
Only now did he suddenly grasp Reld’s thoughts. He couldn’t help but glance at the former commander of the White Lion Army.
Reld was also looking at him.
The old man’s eyes were filled with admiration.
Reld remained silently contemplative, as this elder suddenly recognized his own errors. If survival was the only goal, then what need was there for the existence of this ancient kingdom? The people of Erluin were also descendants of the Flame King; they had left Cruz to resist the tyranny of the nobility.
If such ideals could not be maintained, then what meaning was there in Erluin’s very existence?
Whether it was Brendel before him or the young men from the White Lion Army, they were the finest of their kingdom. Their ideals were so closely aligned that they should not be fighting against each other.
In fact, Brendel had also miscalculated one thing. This was Vaunte, and not the world he had originally belonged to. Here, not everyone would necessarily agree with some of his ideas—
The knights looked dumbfounded at this young lord.
They truly could not fathom why he felt the need to apologize to them; this moment of nobility shining upon them was enough for Erluin to raise its banner again. It was Brendel who brought all of this, as though making them return to that glorious era when the banner still shone across the plains.
What fault was it of his—
Everyone sincerely felt this respect. Brendel told them that it was not he who led them to become heroes. Rather, it was they who chose this path, and he would share the glory with each of them.
What grievances could they still harbor?
In everyone’s hearts lingered only endless reverence. Lady Martha, in bestowing life with spirit, had granted them the noblest qualities, and at that moment, such qualities shone like stars in the rain. A mother’s expectations seemed to weigh upon every single person.
“My lord, please do not say such things,” the knights responded involuntarily. “If we have any complaints, how will the sages of Erluin regard us?”
“The most noble actions are accomplished here; I can only feel honored by my choices,” the old wizard sighed. “Please strike my name from the other group, for you have no right to deprive this old bone of my glory. Even though I am a wizard, I still have blood and passion, for I am still an Erluin person.”
“Is it only the people of Erluin who possess glory?” The holy knight Stephen fixed a deep gaze upon Brendel. “The sages swore an oath on the Saintly White plains; we descendants can only continue the legend of the flames with our blood.” He lightly bowed to Brendel and replied.
This standard knightly gesture contained both obedience and respect.
It was a faith that followed in the footsteps of the Flame King, a fervent devotee’s reverence for true ideals. Only those of like mind could understand one another, whether they were Erluin people or Cruz people, for among them were those pursuing the same noble endeavors. That was all he wished to prove.
Babasha stood silently on the side, with only a mysterious smile. The Lord of the Dark Dragon had once been called a fool, but the truly foolish were merely the mundane masses.
Brendel was left speechless.
The words of the knights echoed in his ears. Like the pledges that resounded in his heart every night, those seeking kindred spirits left their footprints there. Whether they were men or women, elderly or children, be they strong or ordinary, ideals were neither noble nor base based on the person.
Brendel once thought he could only find those pure ideals in games, but he realized he was mistaken.
Yet now, they had returned.
Right here, beside him.
Just like the players who had fought alongside him back in the day. Setbacks, failures, and death could not hinder their steps; others laughed at them for being fools, clinging to non-existent data. But wasn’t the world itself like this? Nothing came into existence with inherent special significance.
What everyone fought for was merely the persistence in their hearts, a persistence without distinctions of high or low. Brendel had no intention to argue with others, but if one could not maintain their stance in the virtual world, how could they avoid losing themselves in a vastly larger reality?
Retreat was merely an expression of cowardice.
Princess Grifian’s clear voice suddenly interrupted Brendel’s thoughts.
“This is a noble plan, but it is not perfect.”
The half-elf maiden took a gentle breath and spoke, “The situation is laid out before us all, leaving no room for a single error. Therefore, we must ensure every detail is executed flawlessly.”
“Mr. Brendel’s arrangements are commendable, but you alone are the most familiar with the Cloak of the Giant King. The upcoming battle will require multiple intermittent uses of the cloak, and if there’s a single moment we fail to seize, it could lead to our ruin.”
“Erluin cannot afford such failure.”
“Thus, I propose that I exchange positions with Mr. Brendel, with me acting as the commander of this battle while Mr. Brendel escorts Miss Antinna until the task is completed.”
Her Highness the Princess stated calmly. Indeed, it seemed that everyone had just realized this issue; Brendel proposed this plan, but the core of the plan was not just about one group attracting fire, but about how to flexibly utilize the Giant King’s cloak, which had a duration of less than a minute, to reach the other end of the battlefield.
This was definitely not a simple task.
Although Brendel claimed the cloak was easy to operate, anyone could see that it was merely due to his desire to protect the princess out of selfishness.
Such selfishness only inspired respect, but it might not be fitting in this situation.
Brendel sensed the princess’s impossibly calm eyes fixed on him and suddenly realized what she was about to say: “Wait, but—”
“I know what you want to say, Mr. Brendel.”
The previous conversation had taken mere moments, and the demon army was surging forth, leaving her little time. Princess Grifian lowered her gaze, interrupting him, “While I have never inquired about your purpose, I can feel such sincerity, and I am very grateful to you, Mr. Brendel.”
“But at this time, emotion is not our foremost consideration. If I must choose between myself and Erluin, I far prefer for Erluin to continue existing. I cannot represent Erluin; only its people can do so.”
The princess’s words left everyone momentarily speechless, especially Nicolas and Reld, as if they were meeting the princess for the first time today. Antinna grabbed Brendel’s sleeve, as if understanding for the first time why he made such choices.
But what she did not understand was why Brendel seemed to have known all of this beforehand.
Brendel looked at the princess, who continued, “So please ensure success, no matter what.”
“Your Highness,” Brendel could not help but speak.
But Princess Grifian turned back, the wind and rain falling upon this maiden, her silver hair sticking to her shoulder. She raised her head to look at the others:
“The future king of Erluin is still young and cannot personally lead you into battle. Today, I will lead you in my capacity as regent princess to overcome all obstacles.”
“This is my honor, my responsibility, and no one can take it away.”
“If I die here today, then at least let me say one last time—”
“The blood of Corvado flows for Erluin.”
In the stillness, the knights suddenly shouted in unison:
“Long live the Princess!”
“Long live the Regent!”
“Long live the Kingdom of Erluin!”
This sound echoed through the heavy rain, and Brendel found himself unable to say a single word. The five words “Regent Princess” weighed heavily on his heart like thunder, historical coincidences so wondrous in their overlap, in the same pouring rain, the same proud princess.
Almost word-for-word declarations. Her stubbornness and tenacity were forever distinct and radiant.
As if they had never faded from his heart.
Perhaps this was destiny.
Brendel thought.
……
(If you have questions, feel free to leave a message in the comments.) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, welcome to Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your votes for recommendations and monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)
