Chapter 158: Act 91 – The Undead and the King (6) (Third Update, everyone can be moved; if you are moved, please support!)
“Guiding Arrow!”
Someone shouted from behind.
It was the voice of the elementalist sisters. Only they understood the effects of the magical arrows they had crafted by hand. These two silver-glimmering arrows possessed a unique magical brilliance among the various types of magical arrows—there was no other possibility besides being guiding arrows.
However, even without their words, the other mercenaries had already realized this.
But what did their lord intend to achieve by using guiding arrows at this moment? Although guiding arrows are magical arrows, their damage is no different from that of regular crossbow bolts. To put it bluntly, they are even less powerful than the steel bolts shot from a four-armed crossbow.
Aside from accuracy, they are utterly useless.
Could it be that the lord knew of a weakness of this monster? This thought flashed through everyone’s mind at that moment. But things didn’t go as they hoped, as they saw the two guiding arrows buried into the trunks of two tall trees, accompanied by a light popping sound as they embedded themselves into the feathers.
“Wait… Did they miss?”
Everyone involuntarily had this strange thought at the same time. If they could, many of them would probably be drenched in sweat now. Throughout history, there has never been a record of someone missing with a guiding arrow; what kind of powerful ability would it take to sh**t a magically guided arrow off course?
But at that moment, it seemed wasn’t the time to marvel at such a powerful ability—
“Wait, what is that—”
Among the ten or so mercenaries, a few had sharp eyes, and they finally noticed that a thin line was attached to the back of the two guiding arrows. No, it wasn’t a line, but a rope.
The two embedded guiding arrows had pulled a rope taut between the tall trees, at chest height, and at that moment, it was less than three meters from the ghostly knight darting through the forest.
A tripwire!
Everyone finally realized. But they had no time to admire Brendel’s ingenious idea because there was another problem: the ghostly knight was an incorporeal being; physical restraints would have no effect unless they hit its core. Could it be that the lord hadn’t considered this?
The ghostly knight desperately hoped that Brendel had not considered this, but things didn’t go as they wished. Brendel had killed more ghostly knights in his past life than the total number that had perished in this world until now. How could he possibly forget such a common-sense issue?
They saw a flash of dark light on the rope, and the ghostly knight—along with its steed—lifted high in the air. If it had been a physical horse and knight, they would have easily snapped the thin rope at this speed. However, the soul energy attached to the rope caused the undead to endure immense suffering.
It felt as if it had crashed into a steel wire, causing it to soar backward.
Brendel was waiting for this moment. The ghostly knight was too agile; he had no way to aim while seated on his mount. But now it was different; he had never heard of anyone being able to turn around mid-air before the elemental enlightenment.
As for the technique of stepping on one’s own foot in mid-air and twisting—it was even more unheard of.
He raised his hand, and the ruby ring Freya had given him sparkled in the darkness. With a thought, a red line, like a laser, shot forth from the ruby, hitting the chest of the ghostly knight suspended in mid-air.
“Flame!”
He uttered the activation phrase, and a golden light burst forth. This ball of light traveled along the red line, slowly speeding up, and in the blink of an eye, it struck the undead that had yet to touch the ground.
At that moment, it seemed like the surrounding starlight dimmed, absorbed into a point centered on the golden light. The surroundings became extremely dark, and then a burst of flames erupted from the center of that darkness, accompanied by a booming sound, sending the air scattering like knives in all directions.
The sound traveled so fast that it became misaligned. After a moment of eerie silence, Brendel finally heard a terrifying boom engulf his entire sense of hearing.
At the point of the explosion, trees within ten meters were vaporized, and the soil crystallized. Further away, leaves charred and curled, waves of heat washed over every person’s face.
Everyone was stunned. The younger sister among the two wild elves murmured, “Fireball? Is the lord still a silver-tier elementalist…?”
The older elemental sister covered her fair forehead, replying, “Just a magical item.” Yet even so, the girl’s voice could not hide her astonishment. She could hardly believe they had truly won, and with almost no casualties.
Indeed, they had won.
Brendel received the experience prompt; he had successfully reached level twenty-three. He only needed two more levels to activate his second talent. Compared to the first talent, which only served to highlight differences between characters, the second talent was a core talent that decided a character’s development path in the later stages.
It was also the most important talent.
“What a pity that the fireball takes too long to reach; otherwise, using this directly would have been much easier,” Brendel mused, watching the crackling flames consuming the forest, knowing that it would extinguish quickly. Because there was no real fire here, the extremely high temperature existed only for an instant during the explosion. What everyone saw now was merely an illusion of flames created by the gathering of elements. Otherwise, no one in the game would choose to use fire spells; one fireball dropping down would reduce the loot by half—no one could accept that.
He let out a long breath and took a sip from his water pouch. This battle couldn’t be described as exhausting, even less so compared to many he had experienced in past games—back then, there were days when he could hardly even lift a finger.
But this time was different; it was a true race against time. Every opportunity was so precious and important; he could not afford the cost of making a mistake.
Fortunately, he discovered he hadn’t lost all the experience from his past.
But as he reflected, what happened in the burning landscape quickly left him stunned. When the flames dissipated, Brendel found that the ghostly knight had not turned to ash at all. Instead, it lay quietly on the ground, the ghostly steed gently nudging its master’s hand.
However, the glowing spectral steed and the ghostly knight were both experiencing varying degrees of metaphysical collapse; this collapse continued, and their spectral armors quickly shattered, dissipating like a layer of smoke, revealing the bodies originally wrapped in heavy armor or beneath the layers of armor.
“The spirit of a unicorn!”
Brendel stared in shock as the bone-like layer formed from soul energy on the ghostly steed fell away, revealing a beautiful body beneath, as magnificent and well-built as a warhorse. The long horn on its forehead unmistakably declared its identity.
But wait, according to the legends of Vaunte, weren’t unicorns supposed to only become steeds for the purest of maidens?
The young man instinctively looked down and couldn’t help but spit out the water he had been holding in his mouth, some even choking into his nose, causing him to cough violently.
After the ghostly knight’s armor completely dissolved, beneath it lay a peacefully sleeping elf maiden, as if she were a princess.
No, one should say it was the soul of the elven maiden.
The silver mark on her forehead remained, which in Silver Elf customs indicated she had not yet reached adulthood. It seemed this was a child who had died young. But now was not the time to lament that. What Brendel was thinking about was the fierce, battle-hardened ghostly knight they had fought for three hundred rounds.
It turned out to be an underage little girl?
Could someone tell him what kind of ridiculous situation this was?
However, thankfully, after the spectral armor of the elven maiden’s soul crumbled, she was still wearing a light and soft long dress, preventing Brendel from feeling more awkward.
At this time, the others gathered around. Initially, they had come to congratulate their lord and celebrate. But like Brendel, when they saw the form of their enemy, they all froze in unison.
“What is this…” Husher, seeing the semi-transparent ghostly figure lying quietly in the center of the area caused by the fireball, found himself at a loss for words.
Antinna was also startled, exclaiming, “…the one before… was that her?”
Brendel nodded.
Although it seemed a bit unbelievable, the facts indeed appeared to be so. Moreover, it wasn’t impossible; after all, evil spirits do not appear out of thin air. He had suspected from the beginning that the ghostly knight might be a projection of the souls of the previous kings in the tomb of the Silver Elf King, but he never expected it to be a little girl.
Antinna frowned slightly, as if she were reluctantly accepting this explanation.
“Did we k*ll her?” a voice asked.
Brendel turned back, seeing it was the younger sister of the wild elf siblings. Unlike her sister, who only frowned gently, this little girl clearly cared about whether they had killed one of their kind.
In fact, wild elves and silver elves are quite different. Although in Vaunte, elves are recognized as embodiments of beauty alongside the winged races—wild elves exude a beauty akin to the gentle sunshine of a warm afternoon, bright and approachable. In fact, wild elves are among the races that integrate best with humanity; many of their kin live and reproduce within human society.
But silver elves tend to seem more aloof and unattainable; adhering to ancient prophecies, they have long since retreated from the world, leaving a mysterious and proud impression on people.
Silver elves are generally taller than humans, with slender figures and elegant movements. They are the earliest nobles on the earth and born aristocrats, giving off a feeling akin to cold and beautiful moonlight.
The ghostly elven maiden lying quietly on the ground stood in stark contrast to the two wild elf sisters.
The young man’s gaze shifted back to Romaine, whose eyes expressed the same desire, though it seemed she was more eager to receive the expected answer.
Brendel shook his head, his gaze falling on the ghostly, indistinct body—it indicated that the soul energy was collapsing, and the force sustaining this elven maiden’s existence in this world had become extremely weak. While she hadn’t vanished immediately, she presumably couldn’t last much longer: “She has long since died, and even now, she is merely on the verge of soul dissolution.”
Merchant Miss let out a sound of regret.
However, as Brendel spoke, he couldn’t help but click his tongue. How many lives did this girl have? Having taken one of his most powerful attacks, and then being battered by mercenaries for some time, plus suffering another fireball spell; logically, even someone ten levels higher would have surely died. Yet the reality was this elven maiden lay there unharmed.
Like a Sleeping Beauty.
…(To be continued; for more details about the story, please log in. There are more chapters; support the author, support legitimate reading!)
