Chapter 14: Act 4 – The Spread of Darkness
Sophie’s plan was as follows:
If his memory served him correctly, at this time the Chief of Security in Buche should be the renowned veteran—Captain Marden. He was a veteran who, much like Brendel’s grandfather, had experienced the November War.
Sophie knew him because this NPC in the game would teach travelers the ‘Scouting’ skill.
But the reason this old soldier was truly famous was due to the monumental mistake he made during the First Black Rose War when he misjudged the intentions of the Madara army as the captain of the local security force in Buche.
He thought they were, as usual, simply invading the borders and, thus, initially relocated the villagers of Buche. He had an opportunity to counterattack and repel the vanguard of the undead army, then retreat safely.
Unfortunately, this opportunity slipped through his fingers.
He should have become a hero of the kingdom, but ultimately, he took a dark path. For someone like this, Sophie felt both pity and curiosity.
Pity for his latter days’ fate, and curiosity about how he managed to detect Madara’s undead army so early on? After all, this was the sole variable across the entire Golan-Elsen region.
“Could it be because of me?” Sophie suddenly had an impossible thought cross his mind.
But he quickly dismissed the absurd idea.
Now he had to change history; he had to find a way to warn the other. Fire, in military terms, symbolizes warning and invasion. Sophie could only hope the other party was clear-headed enough—
The door outside was pounding with each passing second, as if enveloped in a tense atmosphere.
“Brendel, they’re coming!” Miss Romaine had both hands gripping a stonecutter’s hammer, her brow furrowed as she watched the kitchen door, fearing it might burst open at any moment.
Sophie didn’t have the leisure to think about this. If the skeletal soldiers rushed in, they were as good as dead. But hearing the merchant’s cry, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at the door.
The kitchen door was making rasping noises as swords repeatedly struck and withdrew. The swords of Madara gleamed like the fangs of wild beasts. Something outside slammed into the door with a resounding clang, and flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling.
The wooden door groaned, its cracks widening dramatically—
“Calm down, calm down, just pretend it’s a game. Sophie, think about all the quests you’ve been through; this one doesn’t differ much, does it…”
He inhaled deeply to steady his nerves, wrapping an oiled cloth around a bundle of straw and firewood, tying it with a rubber band. This was second nature to him—making homemade torches in the game was a basic, if not foundational, skill.
This was relatively well-equipped. He also knew how to make a torch that could only burn for five minutes. He remembered trying it once with dry moss and shrubs in the underground tunnels of Nocan with Haen.
But time was running out, and soon the door shuddered violently again. The doorframe gave a splintered crack, and lime dust flew and settled again.
“Brendel!—!” Romaine’s heart felt as if it would leap out of her throat, and her bright eyes blinked rapidly.
“I’m here, don’t worry, just hold on a bit longer.” Sophie was already drenched in sweat as he sawed the iron rod against the flint stone many times, sparks flying but failing to ignite the torch—
After all, reality and games were different in some aspects.
The force of the skeletal soldiers first overwhelmed the door latch, snapping it in two with a sharp crack, the wooden door tilting but not yet fully open.
A bony hand reached in from the outside, trying to break the door latch from inside.
The young merchant was startled and immediately swung the hammer, but the clang sounded as the hammer only made a crack in the skeleton’s bones—Madara’s skeletal soldiers, of course, had no sense of pain. It paused briefly and continued to wrench at the door latch.
Romaine, seeing this, froze for a moment, forgetting the hammer in her hand.
“Brendel, Brendel, what do we do…” She asked nervously.
At this moment, the light finally lit up.
And the door latch also broke at the same moment, clattering to the ground.
The door swung wide open, and outside, the skeletal soldiers wielding swords stepped in, their hollow eye sockets with flickering red flames locking onto the two pale youths.
What was that young man doing?
Before it could react, in the undead’s misty vision, a black object grew larger and larger, followed by a sharp click as a hatchet embedded into its forehead.
“…This is your last move; remember to keep your hand steady when throwing the sword, keep your center of gravity low, and don’t hesitate—maintain a straight line between you and your target…”
“…If your enemy is a skeleton, the best targets are the connection between the shoulder blades and arms, the thigh root, or the spine; unless you’re certain of beheading it in one blow, its skull is not its greatest weakness…”
“Damn it—!”
Sophie watched the skeletal soldier tipping backward, inwardly cursing—military swordsmanship’s ‘throwing’ technique was an intricate art, but for a seasoned warrior like him, it wasn’t much of an issue—only when he threw the hatchet, he suddenly remembered he was no longer that veteran.
In the game, with his power, this blow would have split the skeleton in half through the skull, but in reality, it was the same as what the militia-trained Brendel had learned—this skeleton was simply mildly obstructed by the hatchet embedded in its forehead. It had caused no structural damage.
“Miss Romaine, be careful!” Seeing the other figure about to stand up, he immediately pulled the merchant who was spacing out in front into cover behind him.
“Brendel…” The merchant was terrified.
“Don’t worry, I’m here.” Sophie said as much but wasn’t confident himself, especially with more skeletal soldiers preparing to pour in from behind.
In this dire situation, he didn’t have much choice. He looked around—nothing useful—but the skeleton was about to stand up again. What should he do? Just give up like this?
Sophie shook his head and swore that he had never been as reckless about life and death as he was now—of course, his gaming experiences didn’t count. He only felt his mind a blank, with no option but one—fight or perish!
He charged forward, gritting his teeth, grabbing the sword-wielding arm and almost reflexively hurling the skeleton backward.
People are often capable of immense strength in critical situations, and with the skeleton out of balance, it had no power to resist, clattering backward with a hollow sound, causing a retreat among the crowd of skeletal soldiers behind it.
Madara’s undead army’s surge into the room momentarily paused—just for an instant, but that was enough.
The young man was filled with a sense of disbelief, hardly daring to think that he had succeeded. This was reality! Was he really that useless gamer anymore?
He instinctively tossed the torch in his other hand toward piles of dry straw, leather, and firewood stacked in the corner.
The flames immediately surged upwards—
“Let’s go, Brendel!” The merchant sprinted over from behind, grabbing his hand.
She thought she had never been so nervous before. She remembered meeting that young man next door more than a year ago; he seemed shy and easygoing.
But today, that ordinary young man had shown unusual calm and courage in the face of danger. Was this what Aunt Martha always muttered about—“a reliable man” in critical moments?
Such a strange sensation—
The young woman couldn’t help but have some indescribable thoughts, noticing her heart pounding when she gripped his wrist.
“Brendel?”
Smoke was already spreading everywhere, filling the kitchen with choking smoke.
Sophie snapped back to reality. Martha forgive him, he had just set his grandfather’s old house on fire. Brendel would definitely be in trouble—though he was Brendel right now.
His brain was in chaos, but amidst it, Brendel’s memories took the lead.
However, a dry and low voice quickly followed the smoke: “Hurry up, undead soldiers. Put out the fire, find that bug, we only have a minute—”
This voice reminded the young man they were still in danger and needed to escape. But Sophie knew that lower-level undead driven by the soul-fire instinctively feared flames. It would be challenging for the necromancers to make their skeletal minions overcome it quickly enough to get inside. Therefore, it was his turn to make a move.
But fire was a double-edged sword, and he had to act quickly.
“Miss Romaine, follow me.” Sophie casually tore down a sausage from the ceiling and led the merchant toward the rear door. This wasn’t because he was hungry—in the game “Amber Sword,” players had developed an almost subconscious instinct to gather supplies before fleeing.
The fire was growing fiercer, the room engulfed in flames; the smoke was thick, and the temperature rising rapidly. But Sophie quickly felt his way to the little door he remembered, used for delivering food—when he pushed it, it was locked.
Sophie coughed, the merchant behind him was already coughing severely. He steadied himself and felt downward, quickly finding the metal bolt. As he started to open it, he hesitated.
Another thought came to him.
…
“Freyja!”
Perhaps for the residents living in the Elsen-Golan Mountains, the constellation-filled April sky and the May night sky were not very different. But from the end of May, the temperature gradually rose. Looking down from the缓坡带of the Yu Song Mountains, it had been a sea of red and white flowers since early summer. In the times of peace, this was the most peaceful countryside in all of Erluin, but for centuries it had been ravaged by wars.
The girl raised her head; the summer night sky was like crystal—east to west, a bright light band stretched across the entire night sky, weaving through myriad constellations from legends.
She was standing at the village entrance, looking at the opposite hillside, Freyja somewhat worried. The prior explosion was especially unnerving—wasn’t there recent talk of undead movements in the area?
She turned at the call, surprised to see a youthful face of boy rushing out of the village entrance, panting heavily by her.
“What happened, Little Finnis? Is anything wrong?” The girl’s voice was soft and clear.
“Did you hear that sound?”
“Uh-huh, so I came out to check,” Her gaze involuntarily drifted back up the hillside. “I’m really worried about Romaine—her aunt also went to the nearby town… It’s been said that the area isn’t safe recently. I asked her to stay at my house for a few days, but she didn’t agree.”
The boy looked at her, eyes wide—
The girl’s light brown hair was neatly tied into a long ponytail at the back of her head, highlighting her energetic posture. She wore a close-fitting gray-white leather armor with a thick cotton shirt underneath. Her left shoulder had a badge painted with an abstract pine needle in black.
She also carried a short sword, a medieval Western short sword, with a fire emblem on the iron disc of the sword guard.
Had Sophie been there, he’d have immediately recognized her attire—the militia of Buche. The black pine was the most common tree species in the Elsen-Golan Mountains and also the emblem of Buche’s local forces.
However, the well-equipped guard had war robes. Only the local militia wore these gray-white leather armors made from the gray mane bulls’ hides.
In Erulin, in the provinces, every youth would receive militia training. Such training usually begins from the age of fourteen, between October and March every year, continuing until the age of nineteen. And even after training, those young people, even adults, could serve as militia during peacetime, functioning as essential reserve forces in war. Since the decree of the Thunder Year, militia training became one of the most important military measures in Erulin.
“Isn’t that lad not living around here? I heard he served in the militia in Bruglas before,” the boy asked with some puzzlement.
“Pfft, how can we trust city folk?” The girl tossed her hair back, furrowing her brows a little, “It’s precisely because he’s there that I’m worried!”
“You’re biased, Miss Freyja.”
“You don’t understand… never mind,” she turned her head and lectured impatiently, “Alright, hurry and say what it is—boys shouldn’t chatter like girls, you know.”
The boy flinched: “Do you know that Captain Marden has ordered the reserve team to assemble?”
Freyja’s bright eyes flashed with surprise: “Captain Marden? How do you know?”
“Bressen told me,” Little Finnis blinked, answering, “I met him as he was riding a horse to report to the reserve team.”
“Know what’s going on?”
“Nope.” The boy shook his head.
The girl turned back, casting a worried glance toward the slope in the dark, faintly seeing the silhouette of the villa.
“Let’s wake everyone up, and we’ll head there too.”
“Freyja, it’s too late! Aunt Sil will kill us!” The boy’s eyes widened in disbelief, “Let’s wait for news tomorrow?”
“You’re so timid!” The girl couldn’t help but glare at him, but she knew he was right. Recalling her aunt’s authority—who was the militia captain of Buche but didn’t dare act recklessly either—
“You’re just the same…” the boy murmured. But when he saw her sternly putting a finger to her lips to silence him.
“Freyja?”
“Shh—” The girl tilted her head and made a ‘listen’ gesture; in the darkness, a faint sound of whistling winds grew louder.
“What’s that sound?”
The whistling wind had approached rapidly. Above their heads, the source moved fast.
The girl’s face changed; she looked up just in time to avoid it, but it was already too late. A dark shadow swooped down from mid-air, piercing her shoulder, and she screamed as she fell back.
“Big sis!”
“Run, Little Finnis, run!” cried the ponytailed girl painfully.
Arrows fell like rain…
…
Sophie stopped.
“What’s wrong, Brendel… cough cough?” The future young merchant apparently noticed something amiss and couldn’t help but ask.
Sophie didn’t give an answer, as he recalled something.
When Madara had launched the surprise attack within the game, it couldn’t avoid players. Players wouldn’t follow NPCs’ routine of rising with the sun and resting at sunset—indeed, many could be classified genuinely as nocturnal creatures.
He remembered encountering interference from players in different parts when Madara was on the move—players just like him. But Madara’s majority of actions succeeded.
Why?
Yes, he finally remembered such an era, when the ancient nation of Erluin approached its end, while its neighboring nations welcomed a tumultuous era—
A constellation of talents rose…
Sophie couldn’t help but marvel. At that time in Madara, it wasn’t just the legendary commanders that came to fame; thanks to the military reform seven years prior (Year 368, the Black Rose Reform), this reform had built a solid foundation. Its countless promising apprentices were now supporting the country’s war strength from the grassroots.
And this power would soon demonstrate itself in the course of this war.
During the First Black Rose War, the strong sense of execution and judgment displayed by the Madara army was enough to command everyone’s attention. But alas, the world paid little attention even until Erluin fell.
That was exactly how it was.
That dark country was rising and would soon reach its zenith.
“Those guys aren’t ordinary.”
As a lifelong foe, Sophie had a deep impression of Madara’s excellent junior and mid-level non-commissioned officers. Their astuteness was only truly understood by those who fought them for long periods—
Sophie’s hand rested on the icy door latch, his heart growing colder. The moment he closed the door, they should have already attacked Buche—no chance was given for them to raise the alarm, even as a possibility.
And who knew if there weren’t any skeletal soldiers from Madara behind this door as well.
What should they do?
…
(PS. This chapter is 5000 words. Decent, right! Wish me this: If it’s on the homepage tomorrow, I’ll add an extra chapter on top of the double release!!!)
