Chapter 1048: Act 220 – Heavy Siege
The intervention from the realm above immediately unsettled the night in Rustra, as the fracturing and trembling of the laws caused every floating magical particle in the air to boil. The leaves danced as if enchanted, flickering lines of laws intertwined through the air, and the mountain peaks instantly shattered—
But the clash of top powers did not bring an end to the struggle within the forest. After Brendel sent Bradley flying with a single sword strike, he didn’t even have time to glance at his teacher Mephistopheles’s situation before flashing into the sky above the crumbling mountainside.
Several fiery knights attempted to cross the line of flames to obstruct him, but Brendel, having activated the Thorned Crown and Frenzy talent, was already at his peak state. As he passed through, the Queen Wind summoned directly seven or eight shadows in the sky.
The advancing fiery knights didn’t even have time to react before the Flame Blade, imbued with raging spatial force, surged forward. Their swords were forcibly displaced in an instant, and the overwhelming power left them unable to resist, forced to watch as the shattering holy sword pierced through them.
As the phantoms summoned by Brendel dissipated, countless fragmented bodies fell from the sky like raindrops, bringing with them a torrential blood rain.
These individuals hadn’t managed to obstruct him for even half a second; Brendel was acutely aware of his condition—he was fully powered and in a flourishing state, capable of facing even the peerless in the realm of extremes.
However, this state could not be sustained for long.
He briefly scanned the shattered mountainside before stepping back, raising his sword with both hands. With a powerful swing, the Flame Blade descended, causing the earth to collapse layer by layer beneath the force, creating a bowl-shaped depression over a hundred meters in diameter.
Yet, just as the laws of power struck that point, a pitch-black crack over a thousand meters long silently appeared in the ground.
Brendel knew that while he had previously sent Bradley into the mountainside with his sword strike, it hadn’t caused significant harm. The strength of his opponent in the realm of extremes was not so easily injured, and his objective was quite simple—he intended to sever a finger before his opponent could react, thereby altering the balance of power on the battlefield.
Thus, his primary goal was to strike down the struggling opponent while Bradley was at a disadvantage. Although it seemed implausible to kill a power of the extremes, this world was filled with various opportunities and coincidences; no one could guarantee whether he might succeed.
And that was the chance Brendel sought. If successful, the situation he would face afterward would be vastly different.
Of course, if he failed, he wouldn’t lose much, which is why he could decisively make this decision.
As he slashed down with his sword, Brendel couldn’t guarantee how much effect this strike would have; he was not unacquainted with battles of the extremes—whether in this life or the previous one—but just how much impact a peak law attack could have on the plains of extremes was uncertain.
Reflecting on past experiences of exceeding levels and battling world leaders, Brendel cautiously estimated that this strike would at most injure his opponent, but to say it could kill him was still quite far off.
However, he wasn’t in a hurry; instead, he calmly retreated—because he knew the initiative was still in his hands.
At that moment, a gold-red flame burst forth from the cracks in the piled rocks below. Brendel raised his hand, and with a low humming sound, the blade of wind veered away from him, soaring upward.
The flames dancing in the air brushed past his hair, singeing a few strands, and Brendel couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat. He immediately realized he had made the right choice; had he chosen to stay, that sword would surely have decapitated him.
He then lifted his head to see that the flame shooting up from the ground was rapidly retreating to reveal behind it a sword shaped like a whirlwind—along with its wielder, the Flame Sword Saint, Bradley.
The latter’s condition was evidently not ideal; a bloody wound extended from his left shoulder to his right abdomen. Although it wasn’t a penetrating wound, it looked quite serious.
The extent of his injury was within Brendel’s expectations.
That previous strike had obviously carried Bradley’s hope for a comeback, but he had never anticipated that this young man would be so cautious.
Brendel’s gaze fixed on the sword in his opponent’s hand.
He was no stranger to the sword formed by the constraints of wind; it was the Elemental Sword. Almost all elemental swords were fantasy swords; aside from adding a certain amount of elemental damage, they were not particularly sharp but had one characteristic:
They would not break.
As a sword saint of extremes, Brendel wasn’t surprised that Bradley had a top-tier backup weapon. In fact, even those of their caliber typically prepared several swords. Like himself, who had Frost Chanter Xina, Francis’s Grasp, and the freshly acquired Death’s Kiss as backup weapons.
However, the fact that his opponent chose the Elemental Sword only meant that he had been intimidated by Odrefice’s sharpness.
But that choice was unwise.
Brendel felt a surge of joy; as Bradley charged forward with his sword again, Brendel directly chose to meet him head-on, as if trading lives, aiming the same sword at Bradley’s heart.
Bradley was taken aback, instantly thinking there was a trick. Among swordsmen, some had extremely aggressive fighting styles, often opting for a trade of injuries to force their opponents into defensiveness.
However, this tactic was nearly useless in the realm of extremes; a seasoned sword saint with nearly half a century of combat experience would not be easily swayed by such petty tricks.
But as his sword continued forward, he discovered that the ensuing occurrences were surpassing his expectations.
Before the sword in his hand reached Brendel’s body, it seemed to collide with an invisible barrier, one that offered no resistance and didn’t resemble any kind of protective spell he knew.
What he saw was that his Elemental Sword actually dispersed upon passing through this barrier.
After nearly half a second of bewilderment, Bradley finally realized what he had encountered.
Will Barrier—
At that moment, he nearly cursed, for the primary damage method of the Elemental Sword was magic damage, and yet, it had almost no effect against Brendel’s monstrous will.
But how could Bradley possibly consider that a human could possess such an astonishing Will Barrier?
For a moment, he almost believed that Brendel before him was not a descendant of Darus, or perhaps the great Earth Sword Saint of old was truly a dragon or something else, but certainly not of the Black Iron people.
However, no matter how he thought, he could only watch as Brendel’s sword pierced into his chest—originally aimed for his left chest where his heart was, but at the last moment, he avoided the critical area.
Bradley instantly let out a scream, thrusting his hand forward with all his strength to push away the sword. As the shattered blade tore out from his chest, it was accompanied by a large spurt of blood and rising steam.
He pressed his hand against the wound and desperately retreated. Given that this sword had almost ripped away a third of his lung, he immediately began coughing, spewing fragments of his organs along with blood foamy.
Yet Brendel didn’t take the opportunity to pursue.
Because he himself had also sustained significant injuries.
The realm of extremes was, after all, the realm of extremes; Bradley’s strike had still inflicted damage on him. He glanced at his data panel, noting that his life had dropped by over a quarter, and this was a result after more than ninety percent of the damage was negated.
The gap between extremes and the peak of laws truly was like a chasm.
He lightly coughed, raising his head to see Willerk, one of the dual pillars of the Empire, finally arriving at that moment.
No more chances.
Brendel felt a sense of regret; the opportunity to kill an imperial power of extremes had been so close—just a little more and he would have succeeded. But as he understood, the world was always filled with coincidences.
Almost merely meant almost; there was no reason to regret.
Willerk, witnessing Brendel seriously injuring Bradley from the air, felt a wave of disbelief. Though Bradley was considered second-rate in the realm of the Empire, he was still a being of extremes.
And the number three figure in the Temple of Flame had been thoroughly defeated by a young man barely in his twenties.
He was keenly aware that his own level was likely even a notch lower than Bradley’s. Consequently, a wave of vigilance swelled within him, fearful that he might end up with a disastrous fate in a clash with the younger generation.
Even to the extent of facing death.
Thus, while he originally had a chance to strike first and engage in close combat with Brendel, he still cautiously chose to remain distant, attempting to probe with an initial strike.
As the light of the sword shot forth, a flash arrived ahead of the young man. At this moment, Brendel had no choice but to abandon the pursuit and returned his sword to defend.
The sword light collided with his holy sword Odrefice, deflecting off to the side, sweeping into the nearby forest and resembling an invisible razor that cleanly sliced through a patch of ancient trees, leaving an area barren near Cold Dew Manor.
Observing this scene, Brendel couldn’t help but quietly grumble, thinking that after this battle, this imperial scenic spot would surely transform into a valueless wasteland. He’d heard that the owner here seemed to be of royal blood; he wondered how the Queen would feel about such significant losses.
After blocking that strike, he felt an odd numbness in his arm, making him instantly alert—he realized the Thorned Crown was about to become ineffective.
“I can’t delay any longer.”
Brendel thought as he scanned the aerial battlefield.
At this moment, Mephistopheles and Ruyer had long since vanished, while the battle between Richard, Siban, and Varla was cataclysmic. Siban had already manifested the Floating Stone site in the air, a sight from the elemental plane of earth. In this domain, most of his protective spells had been greatly enhanced, though even so, he could barely withstand Varla’s attacks.
The Grand Saint Varla had primarily mastered Nords Saint Word before becoming a saint, an extremely ancient holy art seemingly tied to an old clan known as Razel. This clan wandered the continent, their faith rooted in travel, and their powers derived from the myths and legends of multiple worlds.
And making those legends manifest in the physical world—
That was the ultimate meaning of this holy art.
With a wave of his hand, Varla summoned two herald angels; these agents of divine beings from celestial myths possessed strength akin to that of the truth’s downstream. He summoned manifestations from the truth’s lower realm with the peak of truth’s power, and it appeared to be effortless.
Nords Holy Art was easily so unreasonable.
He also wielded a golden sword that shone with terrifying brilliance; with each strike, the radiant light erupted. Any light that touched Siban’s protective spells, regardless of whether it was of the seventh, eighth, or ninth rank, would instantly vanish.
Brendel even witnessed Siban’s ‘Absolute Barrier’ spell being pierced through by a single strike; and knowing that this was a top-tier spell of eleven ranks, one could say it was the highest level of magic feasible for mortals to comprehend.
Thus, he immediately understood the identity of that sword.
Also one of the most legendary holy swords, Lightbreaker, was the ultimate artifact forged by the Golden People using the light of Martha. It was said to have slain the Truth Butcher Corkir and was lost in the Battle of Babel; it was rumored to have shattered into starlight across the battle, vanishing from this world.
This sword bore one characteristic: it could break all laws, meaning it carried a description stating that only four words were sufficient to elaborate everything.
But because it had previously existed in legends, Varla could use visions and faith through Nords Holy Art to manifest it from the river of fate.
Although its power was not as formidable as the original, it was enough to make Siban suffer.
The Overcomer Siban couldn’t breach Varla’s defense, let alone Empire Gate Richard, the leader of the fiery knight regiment. Although he was called the empire’s strongest defense, it was merely defense.
In truth, he had been howling for half the battle in the air, but he had been unable to deal with Varla in any way.
Varla faced two enemies yet appeared to still maintain an upper hand. Were it not for the well-known weakness of the Nords Holy Art being its high consumption, Brendel would almost think this Grand Saint was invincible.
However, in any case, this was a being that had one foot in the realm of saints. It had been over a thousand years since the Battle of Saints, due to the Sea of Magic being sealed off by the Dark Dragon from the material world. There had not been a single surpassing being of extremes born among mortals.
This meant that Varla symbolized the pinnacle of the mortal realm at this moment.
As long as the People of Silver and Golden didn’t exert themselves, no one in this world could likely surpass him.
Of course, once the magical tide arrived, this situation could rapidly be overturned.
But Varla could only say he slightly held the advantage; to claim victory was basically a fool’s dream. His opponents, after all, were the Empire’s dual pillars, and Siban and Richard couldn’t be unaware of the weaknesses of the Nords Holy Art.
Thus, the current situation was no longer suitable for prolonged warfare.
Brendel firmly made his decision, and just at that time, Willerk closed in again with a strike. He swung his sword, producing a sound as it blocked the incoming longsword; the fragmented holy sword Odrefice slightly trembled, causing his health to drop a line.
This phenomenon immediately raised alarms in his mind, indicating that the Thorned Crown had disappeared and his defenses were approaching zero.
He had to break out.
“Charles,” he simultaneously fended off Willerk’s assault and reached out to contact others telepathically.
At this moment, Charles, Medephis, and Andrigraphis had not been idle; in fact, they had already found themselves heavily besieged by the fiery knights.
Upon receiving Brendel’s command, Charles forced back several fiery knights with a wave of force, using the Stopping Law to immobilize the two weakest among them. Given their prior heavy losses, the fiery knights were now exhibiting excessive caution; when Charles suddenly retaliated with overwhelming force, their first instinct was not to attack but to withdraw and protect their immobilized comrades.
This gave Charles a breather.
“What is it, my lord?” he asked as he caught his breath.
“Don’t continue the fight; move towards me.”
“Are we executing the next phase of the plan, my lord?”
“Almost.”
Brendel once again pushed Willerk back with a strike; Odrefice clashed with the longsword in Willerk’s hand, sending a dazzling shower of sparks. The sword in Willerk’s hand was also no ordinary item, it was the ‘Song of the Prisoner.’ Brendel knew that it was a famous ancient weapon.
Moreover, its characteristics lay in sharpness and indestructibility, precisely countering Odrefice’s extremely high offensive attribute.
After this clash of swords, Brendel felt waves of weakness overcoming him, while the opponent clearly sensed it too but couldn’t confirm whether it was a ruse.
However, this tentative attack was merely temporary.
After pushing Willerk back with a strike, Brendel immediately took the opportunity to don the Twin Ring of Serpents’ Eyes, the two fantasy rings he had acquired during his time in the Frostsong Forest. Due to requiring the power of peak laws to wear, he had kept them sealed until today.
This set of rings came with a unique special property, increasing one’s bloodline and perception attributes by one hundred points each. The bloodline bonus was acceptable, but perception was a particularly difficult attribute to improve in the game. Once perception surpassed one hundred points, one’s sensory faculties would become extraordinary, leading to characteristics like magical vision.
As soon as he donned the rings, he immediately felt the world shift.
Willerk’s presence radiated with translucent ripples, while the battlefield where Siban and Varla fought was marked by waves stretching hundreds of meters across the sky.
He understood that these were magical ripples and looked up, indeed spotting the spatial barrier that Ruyer had previously set up, suspended in the sky.
‘Clash—’
The Flame Blade and the Song of the Prisoner intersected once again. This time, Brendel took seven steps back, and the Thorned Crown finally became completely ineffective, leaving him in a state of vulnerability similar to the aftermath of a fierce storm.
At this very moment, Willerk finally noticed the abnormality on Brendel.
“It’s the Thorned Crown!”
At that moment, Bradley suddenly shouted. As a high-ranking member of the Temple of Flame, he was naturally aware of the holy knights’ inherited skills. Not to mention, he had witnessed Brendel’s fight with the fiery knights earlier, thus he already knew Brendel’s identity as a holy knight.
“Is that so—”
Willerk’s eyes flashed with a deep light.
He realized that his opportunity had arrived.
And just as Brendel seized this moment of Willerk’s distraction, he grabbed onto his own chance.
“Charles, dispel the spell in the direction of the sky!”
He immediately shouted to his mage servant.
