Chapter 1054: Act 226 – Myad
“Warning: You have taken plague damage, dealing 0 points of damage (of which 33 points have been resisted).”
“Warning: You have taken plague damage, dealing 0 points of damage (of which 31 points have been resisted).”
“Warning: You have taken plague damage, dealing 0 points of damage (of which 40 points have been resisted).”
Brendel suddenly halted, pulling up the battle log in his retina; a pale green light screen floated before him, already filled with shocking system records.
He immediately raised his head; they had entered the Queen’s District, the area that was usually the busiest commercial zone in all of Rustra, lined with dozens of the empire’s most famous trading guilds. The towering and grand buildings were now shrouded in darkness and silence, every door and window tightly shut, and a thin mist hung in the air above the streets.
“Mist?” Brendel suddenly raised a hand to grasp at it, opening his palm to reveal several dead insects.
“What’s wrong, my lord?” Behind him, Medisa and Himelam also stopped, the latter curiously watching his actions and asking.
However, the Silver Elf Princess fixed her gaze on the colorful remains of the insects in Brendel’s hand, silent and steady.
“Do you recognize them?” Brendel asked.
“These are plague swarms; they thrive in the mists of the Greylight Wilds, feeding on the corpses of demons and the putrid remains of fallen souls,” Medisa replied quietly. “I’ve seen them more than once.”
“These are larvae,” Brendel nodded. “They haven’t fully matured; what you’ve seen should be the adult insects.”
He squinted, looking down the silent street ahead, knowing well where Medisa had encountered these insects; the plague swarms were denizens of Hell, thriving on decay. Usually, a swarm is produced from a single parental source, which is a gigantic adult insect, typically only one per swarm. The plague swarms rarely stray far from their parent and do not migrate out of the Greylight Wilds.
But there was one exception.
Among the twelve branches of the Tree Shepherds, the Gu insect lord has always been a bug wizard, controlling vast numbers of plague swarms. Long before the era of the Saint’s War, the Tree Shepherds had clashed with the Silver Elves and humanity more than once, meaning Medisa must have seen these hellish visitors several times back then.
The current Gu insect lord, Myad, had been captured by the empire decades ago and imprisoned deep within a dungeon in Rustra. However, even Andisha had been active outside not long ago, so this insect lord was unlikely to be content with solitude.
“It seems Her Majesty the Queen is facing more than one trouble,” Brendel noted.
“Should we prepare for battle, my lord?” Medisa asked.
“First, cast defensive spells; these larvae won’t be much trouble for us, but deeper in, it’s hard to say,” Brendel frowned. Every branch of the Tree Shepherds was troublesome, with Andisha being one of the weaker ones, while Myad, though not excessively powerful, was especially difficult to deal with.
In-game, he had encountered this Gu insect lord before, and it had felt cumbersome. They were on the periphery of the Plague Mist, where plague damage could reach over a hundred points per second towards the center; without a baptism priest adept in hymn-woven spells, survival would be incredibly difficult.
Although magical damage minimally affected him, he could likely resist the plague damage in the center, this was not true for Medisa and Himelam.
At this time, he did not wish to provoke more trouble; his most urgent goal was to traverse Rustra to the west to reunite with the others and confirm if Xi had been rescued. If all went smoothly, they could leave the empire directly.
The route out of the empire had long been arranged; the Crown Prince and northern nobles would cooperate fully, allowing them to pass through the Evergreen Path or take a detour around the Duchy of Antobru, both routes being relatively safe—at least for now.
As for what was happening in the capital, it had little to do with him—or with the Erluin; after all, it was the Queen’s trouble.
He scrutinized the thin mist, thinking that if he was lucky, he could slip through the edge of the fog. However, Myad’s element was the mental fog, not merely the Plague Mist, making it easy to get lost in it; escaping wasn’t quite as simple.
Moreover, given that his opponent was psychologically disturbed, it was unlikely they would permit a few living individuals to leave his Plague Mist unscathed.
Yet it was now too late to retreat; behind them was the trading area, and who knew if the Queen of Silver had pursued them.
Himelam had erected a defensive light shield according to instructions, but Medisa remained unresponsive. Brendel cast a glance at her, recalling that the People of Silver were immune to diseases, and in battles against the Gu insect lord, they usually came out on top.
“The bloodline of silver is truly enviable,” he couldn’t help but remark.
“My lord is no less impressive,” Medisa smiled. “I am merely a pitiful ghost; hardly worth your envy.”
“Oh? What ghost could be so charming?”
Medisa’s eyes widened, her silver gaze seemingly covered in a thin mist, while Himelam couldn’t help but chuckle beside her.
The atmosphere eased considerably; the three slowed their pace. The Queen’s District extended just over two kilometers, consisting of a main street flanked by luxurious shops and towering buildings. The temple of the trade god, Krunnu, stood in the nearby mist, now resembling a monumental structure, commemorating the past glories of the gods.
Brendel nearly saw the mottled exterior walls adorned with golden patterns, their luster dimmed, the past splendor long gone. The Temple of Fire graciously had not torn it down, surely also expressing respect for Martha and her divine followers. In fact, many in the empire’s countryside and in several regions of Erluin still maintained their faith in the old gods, although they could no longer receive a response.
Without a response and protection, there were no priests left. The temple of the trade god, Krunnu, lay like a mottled shell, silently enduring through the mist for a millennium.
In fact, not just the temple, the entire Queen’s District was enveloped in an eerie silence, with only the footsteps of the three echoing on the cobblestone street.
The further they walked, the thicker the mist became, occasionally insects crashed against Himelam’s shield, splattering green liquid as they did, startling the High Priestess.
Yet, the Silver Elf Princess walked forward with calm composure, unflinching, reminding one that she once commanded an army.
Though in terms of human age, she had only been fourteen when she rose to fame—a mere young girl.
At this point, Brendel could no longer entertain the thought of luck. He realized the silence indicated that there probably wasn’t a single living soul left in the Queen’s District. This was the area with the richest nightlife in the entire capital, adjacent to the noble district, typically bustling from dusk into the night, with nobles often sneaking out to experience life—even if it wasn’t quite the carriage market bustle, it wouldn’t be completely deserted.
The street showed no corpses, but the sight of carriages tilted crookedly at the roadside or crashed into the sycamores made it clear what had happened. The shafts and harnesses of the carriages lay abandoned on the ground, with even the pulling horses now corpses.
Himelam’s expression turned grave.
Brendel, however, was pondering where Sidney and Veronika had gone, and if their sudden disappearance had any relation to Myad’s emergence.
At that moment, the mist before them suddenly buzzed and parted to the sides, as a fist-sized insect lunged towards them. Brendel reacted swiftly, unsheathing his sword instinctively; with a flash of sword light, the insect was severed in two, landing on the ground with its six legs twitching.
Bending down, he realized it resembled some kind of beetle, entirely black, with six legs like sharpened blades. Before he could speak, Medisa preemptively answered, “This is an adult insect; we are getting closer to the mother source.”
Getting near the mother source implied they were close to Myad. Brendel didn’t expect that instead of skirting the edge of the Plague Mist, they had actually wandered to its center.
However, arriving here signaled that they had already been detected; fleeing would merely be self-deception. He did not retract his sword but instead looked ahead, where a tall and imposing structure loomed. After a moment’s thought, he remembered it was the headquarters of the patrol cavalry.
He stole a glance at the pale green light screen floating in his upper left, noting that the damage recorded in the battle log was indeed nearing a hundred, somewhat weaker than he had previously faced. However, Myad, who had just escaped from the dungeon in this era, was not in his prime condition.
“It seems he’s waiting for us there,” he turned back to Medisa and Himelam.
“Hmm,” the Silver Elf Princess nodded. “However, it’s a bit strange, my lord.”
“What’s wrong?” Brendel knew Medisa’s experience matched his own, and even surpassed it in some respects. He regarded her insight with utmost importance.
“There are too few insects,” Medisa replied softly, “Even if Myad is consciously hiding them, the Plague Mist should not contain so few insects. Moreover, we’ve only encountered one adult insect after coming this far; it’s rather unusual.”
Brendel raised an eyebrow, realizing that she was right. He had only engaged with Myad once before during limited opportunities, at which time he had not been the main attacker; the Gallius Knights accompanying him were primarily responsible for restraining the insect swarm, while the true assault had been from the Diamond Force Guild.
He recalled that battle, filled with overwhelming swarms amidst the fog, a stark difference compared to the sparse two or three they faced now.
“What do you think?” While they cautiously moved forward, Brendel cautiously asked.
“I have considered a possibility,” Medisa lightly shook her head, “but I cannot confirm it yet.”
Seeing her biting her lip, a flash of thought crossed Brendel’s mind, but he did not press for further details.
The fog-enshrouded headquarters of the patrol cavalry loomed like a living entity, its towering fortress-like structure its spine, while the castle walls formed a winding neck and spine, coiled silently as if trapped in a deep, quiet slumber.
There were no signs of life within the fortress; it was clear everyone had perished. Thankfully, the patrol cavalry had camped outside, as typically, only a single squad of cavalry was stationed at the internal headquarters. Nonetheless, even such an incident would shake the empire’s upper echelons; nobles made up a significant portion of the patrol cavalry in the capital.
The commander of the patrol cavalry was an imperial earl, second only to the elite masters; if he had been here when the incident occurred, the Crusian would have had even more fun.
The trio passed through the city gates easily, the drawbridge posing no trouble, and entered the empty courtyard. The main entrance, corridors, and stairwells of the manor were devoid of life; not a single person existed within the fortress, and even the insects were scarce. They only encountered a few attacks along the way—more accurately, isolated insects left behind after the swarm.
Yet the dense, disease-laden fog surrounding the area told Brendel this was undoubtedly the center of the plague swarm, not merely the aftermath of insects passing through.
They arrived at the third and topmost tier of the fortress, the core of the entire patrol cavalry headquarters, where the office of the earl should logically be located.
The internal structure of such military buildings was quite similar, and Brendel was somewhat familiar with the Crusian fortress. He quickly navigated through the corridors to find the earl’s office. At the door to the office, he finally saw the only few remaining humans of this journey.
To be precise, a few corpses.
Two of them lay prostrate on the corridor, face down, dressed in the uniform of the patrol cavalry, their pale garments soaked in dark blood that oozed from beneath them, permeating into the thick carpet.
Another individual leaned against the wall, his face a bloodied and grotesque mess, features unrecognizable as though a large hole had been chewed out of him. His attire was more elaborate, with a noble’s coat, gold-trimmed trousers, high-heeled boots, and all sorts of accessories adorned over him, including a luxuriously extravagant breastplate.
Unfortunately, this breastplate failed to save his life; a large hole was blasted into the left side, from which dark red blood flowed—a clear fatal wound.
The corpse slumped against the walnut paneling behind him, blood splashed across the wall, and his sword lay scattered nearby. As Brendel recognized that sword, he confirmed the person’s identity.
The Red Falcon, confirming this man was indeed the commander of the patrol cavalry, an earl of the empire.
Brendel raised his hand, and the sword flew from the ground into his grasp, then with a flash, it vanished into the dimensional void.
Though the commander’s blade, Red Falcon, didn’t match up to famed swords like Harangaya or Odrefice, it was still a rare ancient weapon, passed down through generations—he certainly didn’t have a habit of leaving valuable items for the empire’s people.
Next to the commander’s corpse, there had initially been a few plague adult insects scuttling about; as Brendel moved, they immediately sensed the strange invader, screeching as they lunged toward him. However, before he could act, the High Priestess stepped forward, waving her hands in a mountain-and-river gesture; with a perfect swing, she batted the insects away.
They buzzed and slammed against the wall, shattering into a pool of green juice.
Brendel frowned; a thought suddenly struck him. These insects hadn’t actively attacked him, but had only done so after being startled by his presence. In fact, the closer they got to the mother source, the more cautious the plague swarms became. They typically would viciously attack any living beings encroaching into this area, whether human or animal.
This was not typical behavior for the plague swarms.
He instinctively glanced back, only to find Medisa also furrowing her brows deeply, gaze contemplative as she looked toward the direction of the imperial earl’s office.
There, only a partially broken wooden door remained within the dense fog.
