Chapter 152: Act 85 – The Story of Turbulence and Fish (Part Seven)
Brendel’s gaze silently settled on the quiet valley below, fixed and unwavering.
When the shepherd inevitably turned his abacus upon their group, he too was seeking a way out. The ‘Maned Wolf’ Macaro set up a feint, successfully deceiving him, the shepherd, and even the past players of this scenario, cleverly sending Duke Luun’s only heir into danger.
The clever fox had the upper hand, but after gathering enough intelligence, the young man was no slouch either. He paused, lightly tapping his chin with his knuckles, confident that his wisdom stemmed from the accumulation of seasoned players; the wisdom of the many always surpassed that of one.
The water was muddied, but the fish may not swim downstream—
Macaro probably never dreamed that within this quiet northern forest lay an abandoned Order Altar that had slumbered for two hundred years.
However, as Brendel had told Antinna, this altar was not the first discovered by him.
As early as the First Era, before the year of partition (100 years ago), the monks of the Temple of Fire in Erluin had discovered this altar. Yet, in less than a century, it mysteriously vanished from all records, as if it had never existed.
But players are players; those who undertook this scenario back then merely unraveled the entire ‘story’ from the dust of history through a few scattered clues—only to not realize that the series of investigations, done out of mere curiosity, would ultimately benefit Brendel.
Noticing the lord deep in thought, Antinna followed his gaze toward the downy treetops of the forest below, but after a while, she found nothing.
The noble girl glanced back at Brendel and noted the seriousness etched on the young man’s face, wisely choosing not to speak further.
She suspected that Macaro was willing to betray even his own; there was no reason he wouldn’t ensnare them as well. She huffed internally, subconsciously classifying the nobles represented by Duke Luun into a list of the unwelcome.
The group gradually descended into the valley.
Two Lubis mercenaries were clearing the way ahead, their curved blades making a rustling sound as they struck the hanging branches, occasionally reflecting starlight with dazzling glints that momentarily dazzled everyone.
Brendel paid 2 wealth from his resource inventory to maintain the ‘Lubis Mercenary’ card in play. Then he checked the resources at his disposal—over the last few weeks, he had accumulated 10 points of water element and close to 150 points of wealth—this was sufficient. He raised his head and squinted.
The young man saw that his ‘summoned creatures’ had come to a stop ahead.
The two mercenaries seemed to exchange incredulous glances, hesitantly stopping to look back at Brendel. “Lord, ahead there is…”
“What is it?”
Husher retorted sternly; these two mercenaries were the least experienced in his team, and he intended to let them gain some experience, but their performance made him feel embarrassed. As he spoke, he strode forward to part the bushes, as if to make amends for his subordinates’ error.
But the next moment, he also froze.
Behind the dense woods lay an open glade, at least three football fields in size, with a shrine covered in vines quietly standing in its center.
Husher inhaled deeply, instinctively raising his head. He could almost imagine this grand structure’s past majesty under the radiant sun, for even in the present, he could faintly see the shrine’s former glory through the thick branches.
Its structure was simple, a cylindrical temple rising from the ground, the arched dome sparkling with a marble saintly white sheen under the moonlight.
Yet, its height and grandeur more than made up for its simplicity, standing nearly sixty feet tall, casting a giant’s shadow over the clearing—
Brendel halted, surveying the external decorations of the shrine. Judging from the style, it undoubtedly belonged to the elven goddess. Unfortunately, this era had long since transformed according to its will into stars in the sky. What it left in this world were merely its intentions and laws for reshaping it.
Gods rarely intervened in the world of mortals; it was precisely this rarity that led to such noble beings being revered by the creatures below.
However, stripped of divine protection, this shrine inevitably lost its former glory. Brendel noticed one corner on the southern side had collapsed; he didn’t know how many years it had been unattended.
“Ah!” Merchant Miss, arriving from behind, let out a small gasp of surprise.
“This is…” Antinna was also taken aback.
“This is the temple of the Silver Elves,” Brendel, used to the ornate and grand architectures from past games, remarked. Elves, dwarves, and winged races were born as master architects; their cities were overwhelmingly impressive—so he quickly regained his composure from the initial shock of seeing this shrine: “This originally served as the royal tomb of the Silver Elves; even in later times, humans did not alter this place.”
Unlike the forest elves, humans had always regarded the Silver Elves as their most solid allies. This sentiment had remained intact from the time of the Saint’s War, which defeated the Dark Dragon, and continues to be acknowledged among the lower classes even today, making it particularly precious.
“The royal tomb?” Antinna turned back, puzzled. “How could a royal tomb become an altar?”
“Because the ancestors of the Silver Elves swore a heavy oath during their lifetimes, willing to use their eternal lives to protect their homeland. After communicating with the elven goddess, Shaye and Lady Martha, their spirits were permitted to remain here forever.”
“An abode of heroic spirits?” the noble girl inquired.
Brendel nodded.
“How could it be abandoned?”
“On the surface, it was due to war. In reality, it was because the ancestors of the elves were unwilling to take part in the wars among humans, which almost angered Martha as a result, thus concealing the true story,” Brendel replied, glancing back at Antinna and Romaine, “You won’t find a trace of this record in any of the kingdom’s literature.”
The two girls nodded in agreement, not asking him how he knew; they understood the answer was bound to be ‘the truth of history recorded by the wizards’!
“This altar may still have room for reactivation.” Brendel seemed to speak startling news, startling everyone.
“What?”
“Don’t get too excited; it’s just a possibility.” But only he knew deep down that if the strategy was not lying, the chances of activation were one hundred percent. However, due to plot mission constraints, the ‘creatures’ generated from within could only exist for thirty days; still, thirty days was more than enough for a mission.
Although Brendel said it this way, Antinna and Husher couldn’t help but get excited. This was an abode of creatures; even if it was merely a possibility of activation, the benefits behind that ‘possibility’ were immense.
This news was like a treasure chest shimmering in front of everyone, potentially filled with gold and jewels, or perhaps completely empty. Yet, in front of such a chest, most people would find it difficult to remain calm.
Husher licked his lips and asked in a hushed voice, “What shall we do, Lord?”
Brendel turned to them and pointed at the two mercenaries behind him, asking, “You two are elementalist, right?”
“Yes, my lord,” the two mercenaries nodded in unison.
“Then do you have crossbowmen?”
“Yes.” Husher immediately pointed out four people from the team. “Is that enough?”
“That’s enough.” Brendel said while pulling out a roll of rope from his backpack. “Come with me, four of you; I’ll arrange the tactics.”
Antinna frowned slightly. “Is there going to be a battle?”
“Don’t worry, it’s just a minor ghost knight,” Brendel had just finished speaking when he noticed Husher’s face turn pale. He paused, instinctively asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Lord, did you say ‘minor… ghost knight’?” Husher asked with a strange expression.
Brendel coughed, realizing that the ghost knight was trivial in his eyes, yet it was undoubtedly a thirty-five-level elite undead, and even the strategy had repeatedly warned that at least twenty reasonably combined level twenty players were necessary to deal with what could be considered the ‘small BOSS’ of this storyline dungeon.
However, that strategy was a remnant from before the backwaters of the game. By his era, players’ mindsets had long changed. He had at least nine or ten special methods to deal with ghost knights.
Understanding this, Brendel consoled, “Don’t worry too much; ghost knights have a fatal flaw. Just follow my orders, and it won’t be difficult to deal with it.”
Husher looked at his lord with doubt. If he were an ordinary mercenary, he would have likely turned and fled by now. After all, ghost knights were among the most terrifying creatures in wilderness legends—rumored to roam silently in the forest under the moonlight, snatching the lives of the living without a sound; any gold-ranked swordsman would be barely a fleeting thought in their presence.
Let alone twelve black iron mid-level mercenaries, even doubling their number would likely result in slaughter.
But this was also because general individuals had too little interaction with such legendary creatures; after all, unlike players, NPCs couldn’t resurrect upon death. They had to rely on their lives to gain experience—NPCs inherently lacked the advantages in this regard compared to players.
Yet, since Husher was summoned by Brendel, he nodded.
This reassured Antinna, confirming her assumptions about noble retainers, though she didn’t voice it. She further asked, “This isn’t the elven royal tomb, and it was under Martha’s protection; how could a malevolent spirit appear?”
Brendel snorted, “Back then, the monks of the Temple of Fire sought to preserve this haven by trying to forcibly alter the oaths set down by the undead. This allowed the forces of chaos to seep in, thereby corrupting the Order Altar, which resulted in the emergence of the malevolent spirits—legend has it that Martha was so enraged it indirectly led to the transition of the Siphai dynasty.”
The noble girl nodded, surprised to hear such legends within this context.
“My lord, are you referring to the…” Just then, the mercenary who had been monitoring the direction of the shrine suddenly turned back, his face tense, pointing in that direction.
Brendel instinctively looked back.
…
(PS. I’ve been writing this chapter since yesterday, and I’m moved to tears; I finally brought it back to the dungeon. Half of the month has passed, but the monthly tickets are still far from halfway; I ask everyone for support, so I can win a consolation prize, and let those who are pitifully waiting for money cry out loud.) (To be continued. For the next developments, please log in for more chapters, support the author, and support legitimate reading!)
