Chapter 21: Act 12 – Lake Light
The night had been one of taut urgency for both parties.
Tagus waited as the offensive plan unfolded little by little, while Brendel fretted over his inability to manage the time well. Madara’s vast army and the eleven youths of Buche moved silently in parallel through the pitch-black darkness—destinies both alienated yet tightly bound together.
But as days passed, so too the sun would eventually rise again. The very first glimpse of light seemed to have just grazed the tips of their hair, yet the morning had already slipped by in a blink. Half the day passed peacefully, even free from encountering the region’s most common presence—the brown bears.
Though after summer’s onset, wild brown bears also became more docile animals.
It was noon.
The sound of “swish,” as bushes were parted ahead, made Brendel involuntarily narrow his eyes. Sunlight beamed down through the fresh green clusters of leaves, casting a beautiful mosaic of fractured gold in the spaces between. Following the sound, he raised his head from the makeshift stretcher, and like a mirror surface, a brilliant reflection shone into his eyes.
It was a lake.
It rested like an emerald gem inlaid against the majestic mountains and the forest, its waves shimmering in rippling brilliance.
“Look! It’s a lake!” Little Finnis cried out in delight.
Freya wasted no time in delivering a sharp rap to his head, causing the young man to yelp in pain.
This certainly wasn’t a good time for leisure. They had all agreed that every person should stay cautious as no one could ascertain whether Madara’s forces might be lurking nearby. Although they had passed a night in peace, Brendel had mentioned that this was simply due to the lack of strategic significance in the area.
As for what “strategic value” was, the young woman had no idea.
That young man from Bruglas always seemed to know more than everyone else, and though she felt a bit reluctant to admit it, she eventually did.
Could it be that every young person from the city was so accomplished?
Subtly, Freya’s understanding had shifted from one extreme to the other. She couldn’t help but feel a bit envious—if she had been part of the so-called Bruglas militia training camp, she believed she could have done much better than that shameless person.
How unfair.
Of course, only heaven knew there wasn’t actually a “Bruglas Militia Training Camp” in existence. Sophie—he, no, should be called Brendel—had undergone militia training in Dragar. Naturally, he had no intention of revealing this trick at such a moment; he needed some authority to gain the trust of these young people—because a team without a leader couldn’t possibly navigate out of this predicament.
Freya might, in the future, be capable of taking on this role, but not now.
At this thought, Brendel glanced at her. The young woman with the long ponytail was evaluating the surroundings. She hesitated for a moment, then relaxed her grip on her sword and exhaled.
“Hold up here a while,” Freya commanded after confirming the absence of danger.
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
“I’m dying here!”
“I bet when we reach Ridenburg, I won’t care about anything and just collapse into sleep.”
“We’ll get there when we can.”
“Eck, shut your mouth—!”
By the edge of the woods, the voices of the young people immediately started buzzing with chatter, though they kept the volume low, their words laden with exhaustion yet tinged with relief.
Everyone was utterly tired.
The night hadn’t been that long, but for strained nerves, it was akin to a form of torment. It’s hard for ordinary people to imagine the pressure when facing life-and-death situations—one group moving silently through the mountains under the faint starlight, surrounded by impenetrable darkness interspersed with the night symphony created by insects flapping their wings and the distant eerie calls of night owls cutting through the forest.
The darkness carried through rustling bushes, as if a silent silence wrapped around everyone, akin to an invisible ghost seizing each person’s heart, its chilling presence tightening every nerve.
Behind lush leaves always lurked the unknown—had she never heard of the forest beasts recounted in bedtime stories?
At dawn, the frost finally dissipated, and the young people were drenched as if pulled from a river, their faces pale, soaked hair plastered across their foreheads. Even Brendel was not an exception; he used to sleep on his cozy bed, far removed from all disputes—rather than lying on a stretcher, listening to various strange sounds around.
Especially in an unknown darkness, grass blades occasionally brushed against his face, and he couldn’t tell what insect had crawled over his neck, which sent shivers down his spine.
By the grace of Martha, thinking that they probably had more than a week of such days ahead, he found himself going slightly mad. He now deeply missed his old life—although somewhat mundane, he hoped to return to peaceful living.
Casual housewives tend to be earnest in ambition but quickly lose passion. However, noticing Fatigue and worry on Freya’s face, the protagonist’s spirit settled once more.
Because he was trusted—
He suddenly realized that he needed to discard the identity of Sophie and try to adapt to this new life. Touching involuntarily at his chest, he understood—perhaps it wasn’t Brendel who died but Sophie.
It wasn’t him accepting the world but the world accepting him.
Brendel’s stretcher was placed by the lake, with multicolored pebbles visible nearby. First, he checked on Joson’s condition beside him—the young man had miraculously survived, but his health was still far from stable.
“How is he?” Markmey asked hesitantly.
“It’s hard to say.” No, now properly named Brendel shook his head.
Markmey fell silent, staring off into the distance at the lake’s surface. This lake was called Che Lake; reaching here indicated they were close enough to Qing Village, though perhaps only Brendel accurately recognized the direction. Looking in one direction, through the forest gaps, he caught sight of faint gray smoke marks in the sky.
It seemed that Cabais had already attacked that village—its fate similar to Buche. The army of Madara moved swiftly, just as in his game memories.
Actually, Brendel remembered this lake. Lifting his head, he distantly gazed at the serene lake’s far side. The direction was dense with lush trees, under the dark distant peaks where familiar figures no longer appeared.
He recalled practicing for level-ups here for a long time—brown bears and foxes. Remembering the days of selling leather to earn money in the game, Brendel couldn’t help but chuckled.
Retracting his hand from Joson’s forehead, he said to Markmey, “Do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Help me remove the bandage.”
Brendel intended to change the bandage but before doing so, he asked Romaine to distribute the sausage he had taken from his own home so everyone could sample the black sausage characteristic of the Golan-Elsen region.
Strangely making him laugh out of frustration, none of these young people had thought to gather food before escaping Buche, not even the seemingly steady Freya.
Thus, the only reserve food left was one roll of sausage.
“Incidentally, why not share what you saw the day you left Buche? The more we know about the enemy… ow, Markmey, that’s a bit too rough,” he grimaced in pain as his brows furrowed.
Freya, seeing this, sighed helplessly, “Let me do it, Markmey, move over.”
The young man blinked in surprise as the young woman with the long ponytail approached.
“Would it be alright to distribute the food equally?” she said, lowering her head while carefully untying the bandage around Brendel’s chest. But after hesitating, she murmured, “Is there something…”
“What’s the problem?”
This guy, as if he didn’t already know what she was referring to!
Freya gritted her teeth, yet humorously for Brendel, even such a thoughtful young woman didn’t dare to play a small trick on him.
“You know what I mean, we won’t reach Ridenburg, right?” Freya’s voice dropped lower, nearly inaudible.
Brendel couldn’t help but look carefully at the young woman; her light brown long ponytail seemed so fitting to her. He thought for a moment, asking, “Aren’t your aunt and uncle among the group?”
Freya’s head lowered as her bandage-dismantling hand paused momentarily.
“Sorry,” Brendel sighed, “If there’s a chance, I’ll try. But I cannot guarantee anything—I cannot bear such a heavy responsibility.”
“Thank you.”
A barely audible response.
“What are you two whispering about, Sister Freya and Brother Brendel?” Little Finnis’ ill-timed voice sounded, leaning against a beech tree, curiously observing them both. If Sister Freya was the person he admired, then Brendel was this young man’s new idol.
His words successfully attracted everyone’s attention, all eyes turning to them.
Freya’s face went suddenly red upon realizing how close she was to that individual, hurriedly stepping back to explain, “N-nothing, ju-just discussing…” Unfortunately, this straightforward young woman didn’t realize that her refusal would only exacerbate the situation. Especially since her now bright red face made everyone think the captain had become uncharacteristically shy.
Romaine rubbed her sleepy eyes and sat up from the ground, acting as if she had just understood what had transpired. Although Freya was afraid that she would misunderstand, she had not reckoned with the Business Lady’s insouciant smile: “Don’t worry, Freya.”
“Romaine, you—” the pig-tailed girl couldn’t complete her retort, turning an even deeper shade of red in frustration.
She glared daggers at Romaine, almost on the brink of strangling the insidious girl.
Brendel, however, noticed a concerned look from some distance away—it was Nibeto. A fleeting shock: did that young man perhaps have feelings for Freya? But lacking courage is no good, so he shook his head.
“Well,” he said, drawing back focus, “I was discussing with your captain about food distribution.”
When Brendel spoke, his voice commanded a kind of natural authority, causing everyone to instinctively turn their attention to him.
Though what about you, Miss Romaine, with the shining eyes? He thought, are you looking at a treasure pile? Young Romaine shook her head and continued, “This food, even if we economize, will not be enough for all of us to eat. Moreover, we need to remain strong to counteract any enemies we may face.”
“But—” Freya interjected, only half a word before seeing Brendel shake his head at her.
“Qing Village is already not far. Why don’t we go there to find food? Undead beings don’t require sustenance, and furthermore, those items belong to humanity. We have every right to reclaim them,” he replied confidently.
“Qing Village? Has it not been attacked by Madara’s forces?” Eck questioned, seated on the ground. His leg had been bandaged by Brendel and was nearly healed by that day.
The healing effect of the bandage provided a gradual recovery—its efficacy slowly materialized over each replacement cycle. In the game, it was every six minutes, but in this world, the recovery cycle stretched to a day. Hence, wounds would gradually heal over twenty-four hours until the bandage would need to be changed.
“Of course, there will be enemies, but moving as a small group, we might avoid open conflicts,” Brendel answered confidently, having already planned the escape route with clarity.
“Infiltration, you mean?” Little Finnis became immediately interested.
“Yes, and I need a few of you to come. Eck and Vlad are injured, so you two stay with Markmey and Nibeto to look after them; Romaine, stay to help Bertha. The rest of you—Aissen and Freya, you two and I will form the group to make this trip,” Brendel instructed, looking over the team.
“No!”
“No!” Freya and Little Finnis both resisted.
“Let me and Aissen go, Brendel; you must stay behind,” Freya took a deep breath, how could that guy even know the severity of his own wounds?
“I want to go!” The young lad eagerly jumped up.
Brendel sighed looking at them both. “Alright, your issues will be answered one by one.” As he spoke, he bit the bandage between his teeth and wrapped it a few times around his body, tightening it.
A faint green “+2” appeared above him.
He inhaled deeply, feeling energy gradually return to his body. Though still weak, the corrosive poison slowly eating away at his vitality was relentless, but at least he was now barely capable of independent movement.
He looked up and asked, “Miss Freya, what’s your reasoning for wanting me to stay behind? Is it because of my injuries?”
“You know already,” the ponytail girl turned away.
Brendel smiled faintly; not necessarily.
…
(PS. Desperately seeking recommendations, clicks, and collections. I feel my results have been underreported; maybe my vision is just blurred…)
