Chapter 157: Act 90 – The Undead and the Sovereign (Part Five)
The mercenary captain noticed Brendel’s actions and hesitated, “My Lord?”
“I’ll go around to its back,” Brendel interrupted him and replied.
Although the Spectral Knight was undead, its intelligence was nearly on par with that of normal humans. It wouldn’t stay here and let these weaklings drag it down little by little; once its life force was down to about ten percent, it would decisively retreat. But of course, Brendel wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“No, that’s too dangerous,” Husher hesitated, and he guessed what Brendel was planning to do, quickly trying to stop him. “Let me go in your stead.”
“You know what I’m going to do?” Brendel retorted. In fact, he didn’t want to do this, although he was usually the one handling such misfortunes. But one had to remember that the opponent was a Spectral Knight; even a slight mistake in this world was intolerable.
It wasn’t just about dying at a low level, but losing one’s life. Anyone facing such a situation would probably feel their heart racing with anxiety.
His only reliance was on his Unyielding talent; as long as he protected his heart and head, he could at least ensure he wouldn’t die like a commoner—he could at least finish writing a will without issue.
“You could tell me what to do, My Lord,” the mercenary captain said. “After all, we are your subordinates; you don’t have to do everything yourself.”
“I wish I could save the trouble,” Brendel smiled, pulling out the rope he had from earlier. “But unfortunately, this is something you can’t learn.”
“What is it?”
“Can you perform alchemy?”
His words momentarily stunned Husher; if he could perform alchemy, he wouldn’t be a mercenary. The middle-aged mercenary couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
…
The battle wasn’t coming to a close that quickly; the Spectral Knight’s defenses ranked among the elite at level thirty-five, or even forty-level monsters. Not to mention that its luminescent spirit armor could block most attacks.
The four-armed crossbow provided for soldiers of the Black Iron rank was widely circulated among mercenaries; although it was a prohibited item, in most areas, the nobles turned a blind eye to it. However, the power of this crossbow, which could only be pulled by those with a strength of five or more energy levels, was shocking to common people, but for the Spectral Knight, it felt like mere tickling.
Only when a critical hit landed could it take effective damage, but even then, it would be minimal. Moreover, the Spectral Knight wasn’t stationary; although its agility decreased significantly within the altar’s limit and was restricted by the Wind Binding Arrow, the gap in strength still made it extremely nimble.
This didn’t even account for the forty percent chance of physical attacks failing against spectral entities.
However, Brendel wasn’t in a hurry; Husher still had four Ice Shard Arrows and six Wind Binding Arrows left, and with the remaining duration, they could hold out for over ten minutes. In those ten minutes, the siege by a dozen Black Iron ranked mercenaries might strip even a level thirty-five boss of some skin.
Not to mention it was just a minor elite.
While the Spectral Knight focused all its attention on the beneficial activity of whack-a-mole, Brendel quietly circled around to the trees behind it, maintaining a distance not too close or far, about half the length of a courtyard. Any closer, and the undead might notice; too far, and the accuracy of his archery would drop, which he couldn’t afford.
After all, he was no longer that level 130 warrior, a weapon master who couldn’t hit the left eye if aiming for the right from hundreds of meters away—better to be safe.
But he wasn’t there to shoot an ambush from behind; while effective, the results wouldn’t be significant. Unless he had already reached Silver Tier and had learned an archery skill, there was a chance he could land a critical hit that would take away ten percent of the Spectral Knight’s life, and that could kill it outright.
But that wasn’t possible right now.
He glanced at the battlefield not far ahead, where the fierce battles contrasted sharply with the silence on his side. Brendel took a deep breath, parted the bushes on the ground, and drew a transmutation circle in the sandy soil with his sword.
If Tam were here, he’d certainly know that his previous advice had fallen on deaf ears, as Brendel drew another energy infusion circle, followed by a blood alchemy circle. It was evident that he was planning to promote this forbidden technique widely.
He then tossed the rope into the center of the circle, followed by the soul crystal he had obtained from an intermediate necromancer in Ridenburg. To be honest, he felt a pang of regret; intermediate necromancer’s soul crystals weren’t easy to come by at this time, especially since Madara was already negotiating peace with Erluin, and they wouldn’t know how many years until the next war—if not for the fact that he couldn’t find a better substitute, he really wouldn’t want to waste such a precious material here.
Of course, lives were more important.
He made a small cut on his finger with the long sword, allowing a drop of blood to fall into the circle. His heart suddenly constricted. Brendel immediately felt more than a third of his life dramatically drained away; the higher the material quality, the greater the energy demand. Although he had anticipated this, it was still a shock.
He couldn’t help but smile foolishly to himself, thinking how fortunate it was that his only material wasn’t a Dragon Heart or something of the sort; otherwise, it would have drained him dry. Of course, that was just a thought—if he had had a Dragon Heart, he might as well have gone to Emperor Cruz to exchange it for a duchy king.
But thinking of rare materials, he couldn’t help but feel a jolt in his heart, recalling that thing he had kept in his backpack. He instinctively opened the backpack to take a look, and a golden light flickered before his eyes; the light pulsed as if alive—rich in rhythm, like a heartbeat.
Brendel took a deep breath; this was the secret he hadn’t told anyone. Not because he was secretive, but because it was too important. Of course, he was almost certain who had placed this inside, but he couldn’t understand why someone he had only met briefly would do this.
What could their motive be?
Framing? Or just a test?
Thinking of this made Brendel uneasy. To be honest, this thing was significant to certain people but not much use to him. He still had four levels to go before he unlocked his second talent, but he already had a target, rather than relying on that thing. He pondered but found no solution, and quickly returned to reality.
For now, his biggest problem was still that Spectral Knight; all other matters could wait.
He glanced at the alchemical product that had just been completed within the circle. Originally an ordinary rope, it had now turned pitch black and emitted a faint black glow at all times. This thing looked incredibly impressive, almost reminiscent of a binding rope for celestial beings—but based on color, compared to the golden ropes in many cultivation novels, it might as well be renamed a binding rope for demons.
Brendel mocked himself, knowing full well that this thing was actually a poorly made alchemical product; it was merely a simple infusion of soul crystal energy into the rope. But what amused him was that the raw material was just a bit too advanced, causing this ordinary rope to take on such a quality.
He mused that if Tam knew he was being so wasteful, she might give him a piece of her mind with the Soul Walker.
Oh, right. In this history, the future Master Alchemist hadn’t yet forged that scythe known as a semi-divine artifact. Brendel suddenly realized this and corrected his thoughts.
He picked up the rope and gazed across the battlefield, quietly waiting for the moment when the battle would come to an end.
…
The Spectral Knight was futilely unleashing its power; its spirit spear initially struck a few people—but those were merely injuries incurred from the wind pressure. However, soon the mercenaries became more cautious, and this fearsome undead quickly revealed its nature as a paper tiger.
Though undead beings display neither fear nor joy, it gradually grew a bit impatient. Especially its evil steed, which began to stomp its hooves in irritation.
Observing this scene, Husher was initially worried. He mainly feared the Spectral Knight would launch another overwhelming attack; however, after experiencing a setback, it had learned to be patient since another assault might take it out too.
The Spectral Knight calculated well and naturally wouldn’t commit such a basic blunder.
Of course, it perhaps didn’t realize it was making another fundamental mistake.
The mercenary captain fired the last Ice Shard Arrow; after nearly ten minutes of combat, the Spectral Knight could no longer hold on. Its frost-covered upper body made cracking sounds as it began to retreat.
The undead retreated at incredible speed, shocking everyone. They had believed its mobility would at least be somewhat restricted after taking so many Ice Shard Arrows, but it appeared to be limited only a little.
Husher reacted quickly and immediately fired another Wind Binding Arrow—but unfortunately, it had little effect.
The mercenaries gasped in surprise, with some preparing to pursue, but Husher quickly stopped them. It was a joke—if they chased after it and the Spectral Knight turned back, they would be done for.
It would be one thing if they were taken out, but if Brendel fell, it would be a catastrophe.
Husher glanced into the forest, knowing at that moment the mysterious Lord would surely devise some plan. Unbeknownst to them, these mercenaries had developed a sense of trust in Brendel, the one who summoned them.
And sure enough.
Two shimmering silver arrows appeared in the dark forest, one after the other, like two white lines extending forward against a black backdrop—
So conspicuous.
… (To be continued; to find out what happens next, please log in for more chapters and support the author by reading the official version!)
