Chapter 214: Act 148 – Dawn (Part 1) (Third Update, Seeking Support, Recent Performance is bleak)
The young man finished speaking, taking a heavy breath; he couldn’t help but cough twice, his face turning somewhat pale.
“But anger can’t fill your stomach, lad,” an older mercenary said, looking at him with pity. “You talk about the code, but they talk about fists. Their fists are bigger—what can you do? We’re all here, yet they still ignore us. Why? Because they don’t fear us at all.”
“Even if we want to storm the city, can we really get in?” another added, “Let’s not be unrealistic; don’t forget that the bastard has an army too.”
The young man in the gray-blue robe gritted his teeth, but couldn’t find a reply.
At that moment, however, the crowd began to stir. Everyone was taken aback, and the mercenary leaders immediately turned alert, shouting, “What’s going on? What is this chaos!”
“Boss, it looks like more people are coming to the city! They have reinforcements!” shouted a mercenary near the city gate.
Upon hearing this, everyone frowned.
Reinforcements?
No wonder they were so fearless.
…
In fact, when Rothko and his men reached the city wall, they saw a massive crowd gathered not far from the city gate—
From the citadel, looking down, the entire plain outside was dotted with campfires. And around the campfires, shadows shifted, with countless mercenaries or adventurers visible.
The pale-faced young man couldn’t help but snort coldly.
He turned to look at the rows of soldiers wrapped in black cloth behind him, knowing that hidden beneath them was a terrifying skeletal frame—skeleton soldiers, one of the basic components of Madara’s ruthless killing machines.
His gaze returned to the plain; somewhat impatient, he maintained a cold tone as he spoke to the human officer beside him, “Send a message, tell them they have half an hour to leave, or they will be killed without question.”
His words were as cold as a knife.
After all, compared to commanding a battle here, the undead wizard preferred to return to his room in the basement to study the materials he had raided from human libraries.
The noble officer cautiously glanced at him, hurriedly lowering his head in response. Although he was somewhat curious about where this unfamiliar ally came from, he knew they were reinforcements sent by the lord—he dared not ask if they were servants of the cold-blooded baron, and yet he had no doubt that these mysterious warriors standing alongside them were members of the undead army from Madara.
After all, this possibility was simply too bizarre from any perspective.
The noble officer adjusted his throat as he returned to the edge of the city wall, secretly feeling pleased; being surrounded by these lowly mercenaries had long left him dissatisfied. They were accustomed to being arrogant, so who would’ve thought one day they would be the ones attacked?
Even if it was just besieged without an attack, it was enough to make these people feel disgraced. He immediately waved and called over a nearby wizard apprentice, commanding with an air of authority:
“Amplify.”
The wizard apprentice didn’t dare to delay and quickly activated the amplification spell on the crystal.
The noble officer nodded with satisfaction, as if he were the commander of a legion under Erluin, cleared his throat, then shouted down toward the crowd:
“Listen up, you lowly peasants—!”
…
“Listen up, you lowly peasants—!”
At the shout of an officer from Grudin’s side, a sudden uproar erupted among the mercenaries below; everyone instinctively stopped and turned to look toward Firburh, holding their breath, waiting for the next word.
But there was no follow-up—
Because the officer had just opened his mouth when he suddenly froze, the amplification crystal snatched from the wizard apprentice clattering to the ground—he couldn’t utter a single sound.
He lifted his head, staring in disbelief as the mercenaries below suddenly stirred, and after a wave of commotion, the crowd began to part silently, as if a giant beast was passing through. The throng parted like water, making way for something advancing quietly toward the city gate.
What was that?
Not just him; Rothko squinted, staring motionless in that direction.
…
“Everyone!”
By the campfire, the young man in the gray-blue robe looked somewhat disappointed at the people present: “Can’t we have a blood-pumping fight, even if just for once? Yes, we are mercenaries, adventurers, but mercenaries also have their own glory, a glory that protects our companions on the battlefield—”
He looked at the others, asking: “Have we really come to the point of abandoning that glory? Without relying on companions, without relying on comrades, what do we even call ourselves as mercenaries?”
His words fell into silence, resonating with the quiet that echoed from the distant shouts at the city gate.
The mercenary leaders exchanged glances but hesitated. They wanted to give their men an explanation, but that explanation was not as simple as it sounded.
No one wanted to show weakness, but challenging a lord of the kingdom, a baron no less, especially the son of Count Rendener—
If they chose to fight, there would be no place for them in this kingdom anymore.
This choice left them in a dilemma.
The young man sighed heavily: “I’m sorry, it seems I’m asking too much of you…” He stood up and said, “Well then, regardless, those souls on the crosses need an answer. I understand your difficulties—so for those of you who cannot answer, I’ll help you provide one.”
“If someone must die, then let it be me and my companions this time. Just hope you never forget this day; the cold-blooded baron tramples not only your comrades’ lives but also your dignity.”
With that, he turned to leave.
Yet, just as he took two steps, someone called out to him: “Young man!”
The young wizard apprentice halted.
“Preserve your life and don’t forget the message that lord sent you. I think he means there might be a day when justice is served—”
“Do you believe that?” The young man interrupted coldly, turning back around: “Do you believe in such a perfunctory answer? Those so-called high and mighty people, not one of them is good—”
His words suddenly cut off.
The young man’s pupils dilated, disbelief flooding over him as he looked at the crowd, which had begun to stir, parting layer by layer. It was like a receding tide or an invisible giant beast splitting the crowd, forcing them to yield to either side.
The campfire dimmed slightly, and the air dropped in temperature rapidly.
Frost began to form on the ground visibly.
Then the young wizard apprentice took a gentle breath; he could finally see the figure behind the crowd.
A young man, a little girl, one sword each.
Single-handedly, they pressed forward.
Brendel held Funiya’s hand, stepping forward. As he advanced, his golden aura was like an invisible sword parting the crowd, those who fell a step behind found it hard to catch their breath under the chilling pressure.
No one dared to intervene; a broad path immediately unfolded between him and the southern gate of Firburh.
Nor did anyone dare to make a sound; all the mercenaries and adventurers present quietly watched this scene:
Watching Brendel pass through them, watching the mercenaries behind him keep a certain distance while closing in, a group silently followed a single person, much like the relationship between a knight and a king.
They also saw the young man silently holding the little girl’s hand, slowly walking under the city gate, stopping.
Everyone watched this scene.
Funiya also looked up at Brendel, her emerald-green eyes filled with reliance; the little girl placed her small hand in Brendel’s warm palm, and as they walked through the dark forest and the wilderness under the night sky, she always felt this way:
As if it was the feeling of a mother and father.
It was warmth and security.
Brendel’s hand felt like a harbor.
Brendel also raised his head, his cold gaze reflecting the pale face of the noble officer.
“What do you want me to hear,” the young man’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear in the silent camp: “Soldiers?”
The noble officer on the city wall gasped.
He opened his mouth; though it was just a glance from that young man, it felt as though a sword had pierced his chest, leaving him breathless. He instinctively turned to find Rothko for help but discovered that the other had long since disappeared from the wall.
He silently cried out in misery, yet under Brendel’s presence, he had no choice but to stutter, “I… I meant, you… you… all of you… disperse, otherwise… otherwise… kill without mercy.”
A commotion erupted among the mercenaries below; they all knew that the cold-blooded baron was definitely not joking with them; thus, with that order, many became hesitant.
But Brendel merely nodded.
“Is that all?”
He asked.
“All… all done…” The noble officer’s palms were slick with cold sweat. He didn’t know why he was so terrified; clearly, that kid was still far from him, but he had the constant feeling of a sharp sword hanging over his head.
Brendel nodded again.
“Then, now it’s my turn to speak—”
After speaking, he stepped forward, pressing down on the sheath with his left hand and gripping the handle with his right—when the longsword was drawn—
It exemplified the light of silver; yet everyone saw the young man draw a long silver line from below!
But that was not a line.
It was the trajectory of the sword—
From below to above.
A ripple followed Brendel’s sword intention forward, before the wind pressure even reached, the city gate ‘cracked’ inward, then in an instant it shattered into powder…
The ripple continued forward, as the entire city gate fortress under Brendel’s sword intent loudly collapsed halfway along a perfectly straight cut…
The sword wind swept through, as if the wind were blowing sandcastles away, a section of wall nearly ten meters long instantly crumbled into dust, fading away into nothingness—
Brendel swung the sword to draw a semicircle in the air before stepping back.
Sheathing the sword.
Returning it to the scabbard.
With a gentle ‘click,’ the longsword had shattered into four segments!
…
(PS. Seeking support, much appreciated!) (To be continued; to know how things unfold, please visit for more chapters, support the author, and support legitimate reading!)
