Chapter 24: Act 16 – The Gendarmerie
Brendel turned his head, letting the skeleton pass by him. He had almost forgotten about this particular skeleton in the meditation room, but now he was far stronger than before. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword—
A flash of light erupted as the blade of the Luminous Spike illuminated with a layer of radiant white light, and half of the skeleton’s body flew into the air. Brendel glanced at the skeleton as it turned into ash. The Luminous Spike was truly a fine sword, born from light, with its own purifying effect.
A pinpoint of golden light shot into his chest—
Weapons with purification effects could deal twice the damage to the undead. No wonder he felt no resistance when his sword slashed through the skeleton, as if it were a hot knife through butter.
An artifact.
At this moment, all Brendel could say about this sword was that it was a masterpiece, or at least something close to one under the present circumstances.
But he was more concerned about Freya’s and Aissen’s safety. He immediately pushed away the crumbling skeleton and ran out. His Level 2 agility burst forth fully. Even against the world-class athletes from his old world, he would not have been inferior—perhaps even surpassing them in equilibrium and bursts of power.
With the support of the Luminous Spike and the Queen Wind’s Ring, his strength, constitution, and agility all broke through Level 2. If Brendel were to appear on Earth right now, the ordinary people would only have one explanation: a superman, albeit one who can’t fly.
Brendel retraced his steps, and the winding corridors in the dark no longer posed any obstacle for him. He leaped out from the collapsed wall of the shrine, and his strong life energy immediately caught the attention of the wandering undead nearby. Two skeletons emitted a clicking sound as they swayed toward him, but what awaited them were two flashes of silver light from his blade.
Brendel stored two points of experience, and immediately looked toward the ranch. His pupils immediately constricted; it was obvious that the flames had already engulfed the area, with a fiery glow nearly reddening half the night sky.
And within his vision, over a hundred skeletons were slowly surrounding the place. He understood that these low-level undead would never act on their own. This meant the necromancers behind them must have noticed something—
“Freya, Aissen!” Brendel felt his heart sink, but just as he was about to rush over, a sharp, sinister voice called out from behind him:
“There’s a human over there! Kill him—!”
Brendel turned around and saw a necromancer on the other side of the street directing six skeletal soldiers lined up in ranks advancing slowly toward him.
The necromancer raised its bone staff—
But Brendel was faster. Using the Dash skill, he approached in an instant—a flash of movement. “Stop him!” the necromancer shrieked in a panic.
The leading skeleton raised its sword, only to be met with the cold and resolute face of the young man. Brendel’s mind flashed with a clear thought at this moment, as if containing all the emotions of the body’s previous owner:
“You cursed spawn of Madara, your luck’s run out today—”
He scorned technique, directly using the Elvin sword in a straightforward attack. A resonant metallic ring pierced the ears as the skeleton soldier’s steel longsword bent under great force and then snapped cleanly.
Brendel charged ahead, and the skeleton behind him broke apart neatly into four pieces, leaving no barrier between him and the necromancer.
The grotesque undead stared with its hollow jaw agape, its shriveled face showing nothing but astonishment.
“This strike, for Brendel,”
He spoke, plunging his sword into the necromancer’s left side, exiting from between the third rib on its back. The Luminous Spike glowed faintly as Brendel stared at its emerald glowing eye sockets and said these words. He then swung the blade backward—
The necromancer’s soul fire blinked and then instantly dimmed. With a clang, its tightly gripping bone staff arm flew far away and then disintegrated into ash under the purifying flame.
Three golden lights rose from the night sky, merging into the young man’s chest.
He turned around to see two skeleton soldiers approaching him from both sides. He raised his sword, and the arm of the first one flew skyward. A quick turn of the blade sent the skull rolling. He then pushed it, and the purified skeleton was thrown toward its companion.
The skeleton soldier attempted to dodge with its sword, but the movement only stopped halfway as a brilliant sword light entered midway, splitting it into two halves. The metal rings of the lowest-grade Madara undead armor fell to the ground like scattered flowers.
Two golden lights disappeared in a flash.
Brendel silently recited his attribute panel in his mind, and ghostly data appeared on his retina in rows. He selected one item and thought: “Profession and Experience—”
A dim green data readout appeared:
XP: 11 (Citizen Level 1:—, Militia Level 2, 6/10, Mercenary Level 1, 0/10)
He deflected the attack from a skeleton soldier on one side and thought: “11 points of experience, upgrade the mercenary level.”
The data immediately changed:
XP: 0 (Citizen Level 1:—, Militia Level 2, 6/10, Mercenary Level 2, 11/30)
Brendel stood upright, using sheer force to push the skeleton backward. Then he gave his attributes a glance. Strength and constitution had each increased by 0.2 levels, with agility and perception each increasing by 0.1 levels. But the most important point was the 25 points of skill experience. Just these alone were enough to make the Militia profession lose value.
He took a deep breath.
Now, he had 2.3 strength, 2.1 agility, and 2.2 constitution, with an absolute force of 8.0. He had already surpassed the initial attributes of a player and begun advancing toward the first level of strength.
At this moment, Brendel’s heart suddenly settled, and he looked at the three skeletal soldiers in front of him as if they were mere air.
Yes, he had returned, finally—
…
Ten minutes was enough to let the smoke dissipate. The sound of horse hooves approached from the end of the street, two horses.
Two young riders appeared side by side on the horses, halted them, and looked around, surprised at the sight of scattered remnants of skeletons on the long street, finding it hard to utter a word.
“Zeta, did you see that?”
“Only one person, is it the guard from Ridenburg?”
“Over there, there’s a necromancer, praise Martha! Zeta, can you take on four by yourself?”
“No, I can’t. This is a veteran.” The youth riding a lean horse muttered silently, looking around, his disbelief deepening. “Leysen, there are six skeleton soldiers here—”
The surroundings instantly fell silent.
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
“We must tell the captain’s deputy. Can you guess who this is? Regular army, or a traveling knight?” The young man named Leysen turned his head, looking at his companion and asked.
“I can’t guess, Leysen, but I agree with your opinion.”
…
When Brendel arrived at the ranch, it was already engulfed in flames, the burning buildings forming a bright backdrop. Occasionally, the sound of collapsing buildings could be heard in the distance—but he did not see the expected scene of undead army pursuing Freya and Aissen.
Instead, he saw many newly revived skeletons fleeing in panic in the burning fire. The bright flames were practically natural enemies to these low-level undead, causing their weak soul fires to tremble under the strong light, almost purging them into piles of ash.
This wasn’t blue fire. In the game, Madara’s army only used cold soul fire, so Brendel immediately realized that this fire wasn’t started by the undead. Could it have been Freya and Aissen? He shook his head; he didn’t believe those two were so decisive.
He sharply turned his head toward a certain direction, just in time to see a group of skeletons chasing in a certain direction. He narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing a flicker of black light on those skeletons—dark enhancement, there were necromancers nearby!
Brendel immediately drew his sword, and the body of the Luminous Spike immediately lit up with a faint glow. He advanced in that direction, passing several low-level skeletons blundering along the way—very quickly, our protagonist accumulated another 7 points of experience.
But before the young man could approach further, there suddenly came a loud crash from around the corner ahead. Countless bone fragments and metal rings flew and scattered in all directions, accompanied by three skeletons being tossed high into the air, landing into the nearby fire.
Brendel was startled—
This was the power of Tier 1 Strength (3Oz~20Oz)—he instantly understood this. Who was behind the flames? A human? Regular troops from Ridenburg? But historically, they had never appeared here.
He instinctively assumed a defensive stance and looked up, just as a group of knights charged out from behind the fire. It was like a flood, instantly sweeping out from the flames. The leader immediately turned to face him, raising a long sword—his squad of riders behind him simultaneously pulled on their reins—and the entire formation came to an abrupt stop.
“Who are you?” the rider asked coldly, his tone young. But he quickly hesitated; though obscured by the light, Brendel could sense the rider recognized him—or rather, he recognized the original Brendel.
He then heard the muted whispers from the riders behind:
“I bet it’s a militiaman.”
“I know him.”
“You’re not wrong, it’s just a militiaman.”
Brendel frowned slightly as his vision gradually adjusted to the bright light. He finally recognized their attire. Blue woolen shirts, dragon scale armor, shiny white iron helmets and cavalry swords, and shoulder badges of silver with black pine leaf emblems—
The Buche militia.
“Brendel, what are you doing here?” the leading rider changed his tone, speaking with a condescending air.
Brendel searched his memory for this person’s name: Brensen, who, like him, was from the city of Bruglas, excelling in the militia training, chosen for the militia force, then sent to Buche’s borders for training…
Of course, appearances were deceiving. No matter how outstanding Brensen might have been, he could not have surpassed Brendel, who was first in swordsmanship in the same group. But, a local official’s father easily smoothed the situation.
He was aware of the mutual dislike between the two of them—not exactly enmity, more like mutual disdain.
Sure enough, Brensen immediately said, “Militiaman, I, as deputy captain of the Buche militia, require you to report—why are you here?”
Laughter immediately erupted among the riders; they all knew Brensen was just looking for trouble with this fellow townsman, using the report as an excuse.
Brendel looked up—
…
(PS. Three updates as promised! That’s how I roll.
Additionally, thank you d, Blood Cicada, Lionhead, sjwgyyb0, the Blue Knight – Leysen, Lam Ancient Rui Sha, lntech, huan12387, Pirate Captain, Reader 080903091433371, Holy Dragon Marshal Mu Ruchong,惰心一方, Meowing Cat, and the Undead Mage Apprentice for their substantial support. Among these are old friends who’ve supported me since Canaan, and new friends introduced during Amber’s journey. Here, let me express my thanks for your support.)
