Chapter 132: Act 64 – Mercenary Group (First Update)
On the battlefield, another person flew out in a short amount of time. The young man seemed to take down three mercenaries in an instant, creating an opening in the crowd. Before anyone could react, he had already burst through that gap, but the direction he chose made Brendel pause slightly, as the mercenary leader called Kaber was waiting on this young man’s path.
The older mercenary crossed his sword in front of him, leaning forward with tightly pressed lips—much like a beast preparing to launch an attack.
Brendel felt a stirring in his heart; he recognized this posture as originating from the swordsmanship of Master Imeria, specifically Lantonrand’s fencing style. This style of swordsmanship was named after the famous sword saint and had spread across the continent years ago, but it had since declined. Due to its complexity, few people in this world had truly mastered this technique to face opponents.
Yet, almost all of these individuals were skilled.
Brendel recalled from past games that Imeria’s fencing required approximately 133 experience points to progress from the first to the second level, which was about sixty percent more than average intermediate swordsmanship. Although it provided double the accuracy bonus of military swordsmanship and a 1.3 times damage correction, not many players were willing to spend energy on mastering this technique.
After all, the market price for the swordsmanship itself reached as high as 1.3 million Tor, and the rare tomes containing it were only preserved in a few national museums.
The young man named Aike clearly sensed his mistake, but retreating at this crucial moment had become a luxury; he could only force himself to advance. Even without a sword in hand, his fighting style still revealed a foundation in swordsmanship. Brendel recognized this from Aike’s subtle movements, identifying it as the knightly swordsmanship of Mewak.
It was interesting that two mercenaries from the same mercenary group seemed to have a good relationship but employed completely different sword styles. However, this was not particularly rare, so Brendel merely took note.
At this moment, the young man crashed into the mercenary Kaber, attempting to alter his path to avoid Kaber’s strikes. Unfortunately, Kaber did not disappoint Brendel, as he swiftly executed two clean strikes that blocked the young man’s route, forcing him to jump sideways in a desperate escape.
At this point, if Kaber took a step forward, he could throw the young man into complete disarray.
Brendel, whose real strength likely exceeded that of either of the two on the field, understood this more than anyone else present. Sure enough, he soon saw Kaber step forward to precisely land on the spot where Aike might retreat, his longsword already prepared to deliver a final strike with the hilt.
But then Brendel narrowed his eyes slightly.
Kaber’s movement faltered for a moment, and the young man almost instinctively seized his arm and knocked himself against Kaber, causing the older mercenary to stumble back five steps. This unexpected turn of events caught everyone off guard, even the young man himself seemed momentarily stunned. Brendel clearly caught a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.
However, Aike immediately shook his head, glanced at the staggered Kaber—this happened in an instant—and then swiftly fled into the crowd from another direction without looking back.
“What a guy.”
Brendel silently took note; this mercenary named Kaber was clearly letting Aike off the hook intentionally. Yet his technique was truly subtle; a typical person might not see through it. If it weren’t for the rich experiences Brendel had accumulated from past games, which someone his age could scarcely imagine, he would probably have been oblivious as well.
With nearly one hundred and ten years of sword experience, and merely a bit over ten years with other weapons, as a seasoned warrior who had spent over a hundred and forty springs in-game, certain fundamentals had become as simple to Brendel as eating and drinking.
His current raw strength was only in the upper mid-tier of black iron, making him seem far from a match for that young man named Aike. Yet if a fight broke out, even two Aikes would not be enough for him to contend with, especially after nearly a month of adventure that had seen his mercenary level rise to level sixteen, with Erluin’s military swordsmanship having also reached (9+1) level.
With his memories of his grandfather, Brendel’s swordsmanship was now beyond what Buche, that inexperienced young man, could compare to. It could be said that among the regular troops of the White-mane Legion, even slightly older sword instructors could only be instructors for him in terms of swordsmanship.
Brendel’s skill did not yet reach the level of his grandfather’s, which exuded an overwhelming aura that stifled even someone as experienced as him, but it was already subtly beginning to bear some resemblance to that of a sword master—of course, a true sword master would not only excel in one style of swordsmanship.
However, it was precisely because of this that Brendel felt the enigmatic nature of his grandfather grow deeper with each level he gained. Was that old soldier, who could instill a sense of battle reluctance even in a seasoned warrior above level one hundred, really just a veteran of the November War? At least he couldn’t observe similar traces in Retao, who also fought in that war.
Of course, Retao had participated in the later stages of the war, while Brendel’s grandfather had been there from beginning to end; this might be the greatest difference. As he thought of this, he couldn’t help but recall who had received the Candlefire Emblem of the Temple of Fire in history, but he couldn’t quite remember.
He had dealt more with the Erluin officials in the past and later came under the influence of the forces of the Light Sanctuary, thus not having much interaction with the Temple of Fire.
This thought only flashed through his mind.
The scene momentarily froze due to the sudden turn of events, and most people exchanged glances. However, the sounds quickly resumed, primarily from the local onlookers, who began to murmur, discussing the earlier battle’s gains and losses. Though most of them hadn’t even had a chance to clearly see how the fight began and ended, this did not deter their eagerness to talk.
The mercenaries who had been knocked down by the young man gradually climbed to their feet. The involved parties were silent, but they exchanged glances, displaying neither deep disappointment nor anger. On the contrary, they seemed somewhat relieved.
Brendel, of course, observed their expressions, turned around, and just in time saw Antinna looking towards him. They exchanged glances, from which they both perceived a shared understanding.
“Brendel, they have no intention of pursuing,” Romaine quietly muttered from behind him.
Brendel smiled and nodded.
“Kaber, are you alright?” At that moment, he saw a mercenary cautiously approaching Kaber, the mercenary leader. The latter looked at his wrist for a moment, paused, and then raised his head, speaking seriously to the others: “I’m fine. Alright, you all spread out to seal off Shubli; we can’t let Aike escape. If anything goes wrong this afternoon, I take full responsibility—”
“Oh.”
“Okay.”
“No problem, Captain Kaber.” The mercenaries responded in unison, albeit slowly.
However, the older mercenary seemed to be unbothered, scanning the surroundings until his eyes landed on Brendel. Kaber had been watching the battlefield attentively, especially when Brendel had helped one of his men, and now he had time to appraise this young man closely.
In fact, Kaber was startled the moment he first saw Brendel.
Previously, his gaze had merely skimmed over; he hadn’t anticipated that Brendel would be so young. From Brendel’s earlier actions, he had already guessed that the young man possessed at least upper mid-tier black iron strength. A young man in his twenties with such strength would astonish anyone, regardless of the place.
Kaber immediately thought of Aike, who was the most talented young man he had ever encountered. Aike was the adopted son of their captain, ‘Maned Wolf’ Makarolo, and at merely seventeen had already unlocked second-tier power; he could be seen as a prodigy. In Kaber’s impression, only those legendary geniuses known as “Revelators” could achieve such feats at that age.
Aike had always been the hope and pride of the entire mercenary group, and even when he selfishly escaped this time, Captain Makarolo merely asked them to bring him back; others did not wish for him to be punished for this reason—this clearly showed the affection everyone had for the young man in the group.
Thinking of Aike, Kaber felt a sense of calm wash over him, and Brendel’s youth became somewhat more acceptable in his eyes. He exhaled, approached, and softened his expression slightly as he replied to Brendel and his group: “Thank you all for your assistance; you can call me Kaber. And this gentleman, may I ask your name?”
“Brendel, no need for formalities.” Brendel was also observing him.
This seasoned mercenary leader had a pair of lead-gray eyes, and to Brendel, it seemed like his brows were perpetually slightly furrowed, as if he carried an unending burden of worries. This melancholic air, combined with his gray hair, gave him a certain potential to be a handsome older man, especially since his hands, shaped from years of sword use, were long and slender. If one did not look at the calluses on the other side, one might mistake them for a pianist’s hands.
Such a man would surely cause many young girls to scream if he appeared on a street in his world, Brendel thought enviously. Although Brendel’s own body was not unattractive, it nevertheless lacked the aura that came with experience, particularly the deep, weathered sense of life.
It appeared that these mercenaries were not your average individuals; the question was whether they were part of the renowned mercenary group from the Southlands. Brendel examined their attire, and he couldn’t deduce anything from their outfits since they bore no discernible insignia.
It seemed they were not yet in mission mode.
(PS. There is still one more update to come.) (To be continued. For more information on what happens next, please log in for more chapters and support the author by reading legitimately!)
