Chapter 1001: Act 173 – The Tomb
Brendel was finally able to deceive Andrigraphis into letting the vampire princess off the hook for the time being. He then followed Medisa to see the ‘cocoon’ that imprisoned his senior sister. The giant light cocoon floated between two ancient white oak trees, about eleven to twelve feet tall and wide enough for two people to embrace it. It was half a person high off the ground and shaped like a spindle. Inside, the contours of a curvaceous woman could be faintly seen, and it was discernible that it was Lady Nemesis.
Brendel looked up at the cocoon, walked over, and tentatively touched its surface. The soft light penetrated his palm, and the temperature of the surface was similar to that of the human body. Although the light body was very soft, it had great resilience and was clearly not easily destroyed. A slightly weakened Medisa recounted everything that had happened previously, explaining that Andrigraphis and Medephis had taken the same secret passage as Bai Jia but had arrived late. Therefore, when they came to the surface, they only saw this light cocoon and the unconscious Himelam lying beside it.
“Andrigraphis found this thing nearby,” Medisa said as she took out a stone tablet. It was indeed the war stone slab that Brendel had seen beneath the tomb, used for dragon skin magic. However, the slab had lost its metallic sheen and turned gray, with many of its surface patterns disappeared. This was clearly how the war stone slab appeared after its inherent legacy was activated and its energy dissipated. Upon seeing this slab, Brendel understood exactly what had happened.
He sighed in relief. Looking at the light cocoon, he replied, “It seems that Lady Nemesis must have inadvertently activated this slab and thus obtained its legacy. This light cocoon should be the self-protection mechanism of the war stone slab, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“No problems?” Medisa pressed, somewhat uncertain, as compared to Brendel, she had never understood these things before.
“No problems,” Brendel affirmed. “However, her current state should last for a while. Medisa, you can stay here and take good care of Lady Nemesis. I’ll arrange for Andrigraphis and the others to stay with you. There shouldn’t be any strong enemies around here; you’ll be more than enough to protect each other.”
Medisa was slightly taken aback, keenly sensing the underlying meaning in his words. She raised her head and asked, “My Lord, are you going to leave?”
Brendel then realized that Medisa had been called over partway and didn’t know about the situation with Yula, so he explained everything to her in detail. Medisa frowned as she listened, clearly shocked by the sudden appearance of the undead. After giving it some thought, she responded, “Miss Delphine and I did consider that Her Majesty the Queen might have another card up her sleeve, but we didn’t expect it to be the undead. Thankfully, you and Yula discovered their arrangements in advance, or we might have really been caught off guard. We need to respond quickly.”
“So you stay here and notify Charles. Prepare the harbor for defenses,” Brendel said. “But there’s no need to be overly concerned; things haven’t reached the stage you imagine. According to your sister, the White Legion seems to want to use the rule fragments to alter the order around Fatan, forcing it into a state of eternal night. In an environment without sunlight and the dual reinforcement of the land of the dead, the undead will become significantly stronger, while humanity will be thrown into chaos due to the sudden solar eclipse. Their calculations are indeed good; however, the key to this plan — the rule fragments of Fatan Harbor — are currently in our hands, so how could I let them have their way?”
Medisa suddenly raised an eyebrow. “My Lord, I have an idea.”
“Hmm?”
“Actually, previously, Miss Delphine and I planned to take the initiative rather than waiting for the Silver Queen to deploy her troops. From a strategic standpoint, it’s better to attack than to defend. Now that we have the initiative, why don’t we take this opportunity to do more?”
Brendel became interested. He wasn’t well-versed in warfare; commanding a battle was manageable, but at a strategic level, he was somewhat at a loss. Fortunately, he had Medisa by his side. This Silver Elf Princess had personally participated in and commanded the War of the Saints, and she was certainly more than capable of handling the current situation. Keep in mind that she was one of the most famous generals from a thousand years ago, a time when the continent was rife with war, which was far from what it was now.
Medisa smiled mysteriously. “My Lord, you intend to seize part of the undead artifact’s authority, don’t you?”
Brendel nodded. Based on Yula’s description, the commander of that undead army should have held part of the authority over the undead artifact to control thousands of skeletons marching through the wilderness. These thousands of skeletons meant little to him, but he was very interested in that undead artifact. Even just a piece of authority might yield something useful, which was why he had agreed to Yula’s plan as soon as he heard it.
“We could pretend to play along with the White Legion and turn the tables on them. If luck permits, we might directly resolve the current predicament of Fatan Harbor,” Medisa replied.
Brendel immediately understood the Silver Elf Princess’s plan. He raised his eyebrows slightly and considered the feasibility of this plan but felt increasingly excited as he pondered it. Taking a deep breath, he said solemnly, “In that case, we must first guard against leaking information. The Crusian are unlikely to let your sister and the others act alone; they might have small garrisons nearby. I must go deal with these people.”
Medisa nodded and then asked, “My Lord, will you be alright alone? Do you need me to come with you, or should we take Mr. Charles?”
Brendel shook his head. “Let Charles stay at the harbor. You and Himelam both came out; I must leave someone there just in case. As for you, stay here and recover. This is a command from your Lord.”
“But I’ve already used the holy water; the wound has long since healed, and I’m just a bit weak. Although I can’t fight, I can still use the authority of a traveling mage,” Medisa weakly argued. Speaking of her injuries, Brendel couldn’t help but glance at her chest; the originally alarming wound had indeed begun to heal due to the powerful effect of the holy water, leaving behind large areas of smooth, white skin and just beginning curves.
Brendel cleared his throat, feeling quite embarrassed.
Medisa then noticed that her lord’s expression was somewhat off, looked down, and instantly blushed. She bit her lip and hurriedly used her hands to cover her exposed skin. If it had been anyone else, they might have been angry in such a situation, but Medisa, with her usual demeanor, found it difficult to express her feelings, and the atmosphere between them became a bit awkward.
After a long pause, Brendel finally muttered, “Don’t worry, my little princess; I have already made arrangements. I would never joke about Yula’s safety; you should understand that.”
Medisa replied with a soft “Hmm,” acknowledging him.
But after a while, still feeling uneasy, she quietly said, “Why not bring Andrigraphis along? She can still fight.”
Brendel shook his head again. “That’s unnecessary. Neither you nor Medephis has combat capability, and Himelam is unconscious. Only Andrigraphis among you has a bit of fighting strength. If she stays here, I can rest easy.” After speaking, he looked toward the entrance on the other side of the valley. “Madara’s skeleton should have come from that direction; the Crusian won’t be far…”
Medisa also looked at the entrance on the other side of the valley, where the lush valley reflected a mesmerizing green under the sunlight. Suddenly, she said, “Perhaps there is someone who can help you, my Lord.”
“Who?” Brendel turned his head back.
“That skeleton, you haven’t forgotten about it, have you, my Lord?”
“Crote, is it still alive?” Brendel exclaimed, surprisingly remembering this poor creature.
“Yes, and Sir Roslin also wants to see you.”
Brendel was taken aback for a moment, then nodded. The two fell silent, as if they both understood there was an unspoken issue lurking beneath the surface; neither wanted to vocalize it. After a long time, Brendel finally said quietly, “Medisa, your sister…”
“I already know,” Medisa shook her head vigorously. “There’s no need to say more, my Lord.”
Brendel looked at the Silver Elf girl, who kept her head down, and her silence made him feel somewhat uneasy. “Really, is there nothing?”
Medisa remained silent for a moment before responding, “Silver Elves go to a place called Yarlfheim after they die. It is a sacred and serene valley—Saint Silver Valley, our spiritual homeland. One day, I will see my sister there, along with my father and mother; they merely arrived there ahead of me to that beautiful paradise.”
“While that sounds beautiful, I wish Medisa could stay by my side forever, living in this world.”
“My Lord, you really don’t comfort people,” Medisa nearly laughed in annoyance. “Besides, my Lord will also grow old; one day I will leave you.”
“That’s alright; at that time, I will accompany you to that Yarlfheim of yours.”
“That’s not permissible; that is the sacred ground of the Silver Elves. You can’t enter, my Lord, for you are human.”
“Not necessarily; I am a traveling mage. Am I not able to traverse realms?”
“…You are too willful, my Lord.”
…
This was the second time Brendel encountered the undead of this temple knight. It sat beneath a towering white rock, seemingly deep in thought. A long cape trailed down to the ground, a tragic red, as if it were the flowing remnants of a hero’s demise. A rusty sword was embedded in front of it, and a beam of golden sunlight streamed down from above the treetops, illuminating the hilt of the sword. The gem on the hilt sparkled brightly, as if recounting a story from before the passage of time.
Sir Roslin sat poised behind this sword, and its injuries seemed to have mostly healed—at least on the surface—but the golden flames flickering in its eye sockets had dimmed considerably.
“You’ve come, young knight,” Sir Roslin said, raising its head upon sensing Brendel’s arrival. The golden crown on its deeply sunken skull glimmered.
“I am not a knight,” Brendel revealed the earth sword he had barely recovered, “I am a warrior, a swordsman, but not a knight.”
“All the same. With the passing of life, time takes on different meanings for me. Past recognitions no longer bind certain eternal significances,” the undead replied. “To me, a knight is not an identity but a noble symbol—it signifies individuals who possess certain pursuits. I can see your tenacity. Why deny it? I don’t think it’s something that would embarrass you.”
Brendel fell silent. “What about your lady, noble knight?” He glanced around but saw no trace of Roslin’s beloved spirit nor the shadow of the grim knight Crote.
“She has departed; the mortal realm was a restraint for her, even my love was the same. But she finally found peace and release, thanks to you.” The undead’s voice was steady, like a dream.
Brendel smiled. “No need for thanks; I’m not without purpose. Besides, the outcome is quite good; your guardianship has finally had meaning.”
“I must also leave,” the undead replied. “I can feel a voice calling me; my soul is about to return to eternity. At this moment, the world presents many meanings before my eyes, making me reminisce about my era. In that time, the Crusian Valley was evergreen, the dreamlike fields extended endlessly, and we could chase our beliefs and dreams freely…”
Brendel listened quietly to Roslin recounting his past, much like a dying old man slowly unraveling the story sealed behind the passage of time—the young knight, radiant beliefs, setbacks and struggles, and a lifetime of vigil, all upheld by a shining will in unspoken silence.
The undead quietly finished this story, then raised its head, looking at Brendel with its eye sockets aflame with golden spiritual fire.
“I am about to leave, but before I go, I will give you a gift,” the undead said slowly. “Come to my side, young knight.”
Brendel was taken aback and looked at Roslin in surprise—the undead faced his gaze calmly, not revealing any malice. Brendel hesitated for a moment but then walked before Roslin. Suddenly, the undead stood tall and reached out its bony hand, pulling the sword from the ground, but it made no move to attack. After a moment’s shock, Brendel relaxed. The undead raised the sword high and gently placed its tip on Brendel’s shoulder.
“Do you understand the meaning and weight of glory, young knight?”
“It shall accompany you for life,” the undead replied loudly. “I possess nothing else, but only some insights from my life. These past memories have long lost their significance to me, but I hope they may help you.”
As these words rang out, Brendel suddenly felt the surrounding scenery dissolve like grains of sand in the wind. A solemn sacred sound echoed from all directions. He looked up, and realized there was no Roslin’s undead; he was alone in the center of a sanctuary, kneeling on one knee, surrounded by enormous stained glass rose windows great and small. A single beam of pure white light pierced down through the gap in the vaulted ceiling above, landing precisely on the ground beside him, creating a massive bright spot in the darkness.
In the surrounding darkness, no figure of scenery was visible, as if rows of benches in the chapel were occupied by unknown individuals. Whispers from all directions converged, creating a buzzing sound that felt as if they were debating or observing.
Brendel suddenly realized that this scene was one that this knight’s soul had once experienced, and it was likely one of the most deeply etched memories from his life. Yet as time passed, the originally clear memories had become vague. The observers in this sanctuary had become faded, much like washed-out photographs, but only what happened in the center of this sanctuary left an indelible mark in his memory.
This is the inheritance—
The beliefs and ideals of the knight, Roslin intended to bestow upon him its most important treasures. He had received everything in the same way before, and today, he returned this knight’s power in the same form. In “Amber Sword,” this was also a rare but ungraspable opportunity. The skills mastered by these heroes of the past were far from ordinary resources; key was that infused with personal understanding and insights, these skills were mostly unique. Brendel had never imagined that he would inadvertently trigger a hidden quest.
He didn’t know if it was because he had become increasingly desensitized to things in the game or if he had been too assimilated by this world; if this quest line had been placed in the past, he would have noticed it long ago. The moment Roslin’s undead appeared, he perhaps should have sensed it, but he didn’t—until this moment, everything unfolded as though it was perfectly natural.
He saw a dazzling ball of white light appear before him; within the white light, he could not see the figure’s face, as if many faces overlapped together—some familiar, even ones he had seen before, while others were unfamiliar and had never appeared in his memories. These familiar and unfamiliar faces overlapped, speaking in unison, chanting something. Brendel felt as if he could almost decipher the voice, but it was lost among the buzzing noise until segment after segment of memories flowed into his mind.
The radiant knight stood atop a hill.
Banners like forest, the mountain cries like tides.
The raised blade sparkled with cold light.
Brendel seemed to see himself and also Roslin’s life, and then he naturally understood the origin of this skill—
The layers of illusion in front of him suddenly vanished, and the forest’s emerald backdrop returned to his sight. He still stood beneath that white giant rock, the woodland remained lush and dreamlike, and Roslin’s sword continued to lay quietly before him, but the knight’s undead was long gone, leaving nothing but the warm afternoon sunlight shining through the forest, dappling the meadow with little spots of light.
A long cape lay on the grass, carrying the breath of its owner in life, as if it were blood, glaringly bright.
And in Brendel’s mind, only a monotonous prompt sounded, resounding: “Obtained the secret skill of the Sanctuary Knight, Sacred Baptism.”
After pondering for a while, he quietly picked up the cape from the ground and gently laid it over Roslin’s sword. Then he took out the Earth Sword and etched a flowing line of text into the stone:
This is the tomb of a knight who guarded love and faith throughout his life. His loyalty and ideals may be unknown to the world, but the valley remains evergreen, and belief endures—
