Chapter 217: Act 151 – Dawn (Part 4)
Grudin stood rigidly on the balcony, watching the flickering torches gathering like stars in the darkness towards a single point. Since hearing that damned Count Gunstin had returned once again, he felt both regret and fear. Regret for not heeding his trusted advisor’s advice in the afternoon to forcibly detain the opponent, instead hesitating and missing the opportunity.
But beyond regret, he felt a greater fear. Although he knew that the generals of Madara were in the city and that those bony husks would never allow him to die here, he instinctively felt a sense of dread gripping his heart.
It was like a sharp sword hanging overhead, and he could feel its chill.
He instinctively touched the wound on his cheek. Though he managed to keep a calm facade, his heart was cold. He kept recalling Brendel’s icy gaze upon him and the cold remark he had thrown at him:
“I’ll spare your dog’s life for now; we’ll settle it another day.”
To his surprise, that other day had indeed come just a day later.
The Baron turned around.
Behind him silently stood a stranger, clad in black armor, shrouded beneath a long black winged cloak. The figure’s face was obscured by a dark, metallic mask, with only a pair of bright golden eyes visible.
The black knight’s sharp metal gloves gripped a massive scythe, resting on his shoulder, while his expression remained calm as he gazed into the distance.
If Brendel were here, he would notice the silver scales painted on this person’s attire.
Among the many generals of Madara, only one bore such an insignia.
The Black Knight, Judge White Tiamas Cuoyue.
One of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse of Madara—
Unlike the White Knight Aibodun and the Red Knight Redios, White Tiamas Cuoyue had already held a high position before the First Black Rose War; he was Tagus’s second-in-command.
Many legends existed about him from past games, but what players were most concerned about was the true identity of this individual. In legend, no living being has seen the face behind the mask of the Black Knight.
Of course, this claim had a bit of exaggeration, as even the dead of Madara, the players, had likewise never seen it.
Facing Grudin’s flickering gaze, the Black Knight smiled slightly: “My lord, you need not worry; our army will arrive shortly—”
His voice was chilling but carried a neutral charm.
“However, I heard that the honorable Count went alone. While commendable bravery, it lacks wisdom. He is just above bronze in strength; Kabais could easily handle him.”
“When the time comes, do as you see fit, my lord.”
As he said this, he thought: Is this enemy the young man who had made ‘Dead Wurm’ Magus suffer?
I would like to see him.
Grudin let out a cold snort, well aware that Madara still did not wish to get involved in the disputes of the Erluin nobility. However, he was not displeased with the other’s suggestion.
Thinking of the trouble Brendel had brought him, he couldn’t help but grit his teeth, wanting to prepare a grand feast for that Count.
Death was not so easily achieved.
…
The battle within the city was reaching a fever pitch, as the mercenaries formed a barrage of attacks, pushing along the streets—
Leading the charge was Medisa, followed closely by Brendel, who held Funiya’s hand. The young man guided the little girl step by step through the battlefield—occasionally, noble retainers would breach the frontline, approaching the young knight commander, often still surprised at how lax their defenses were, but they would soon receive an answer.
The cold-faced young man would swing his hand, knocking their sword away—or simply sweeping them aside with a strike—before thrusting a blade into their chest.
The entire process took less than a second.
The heart still beating, yet frost began to form over the wound. The longsword seemed to have suddenly appeared in front of him, and the noble retainers mostly fell back in disbelief.
Brendel drew his sword, pushing the cold corpse aside, letting it drop—and then he continued onward. Funiya looked a bit pale beside him, but she tightened her grip on his hand.
At that moment, Brother Brendel had likewise worn a cold expression when he saved her from those noble cavalrymen. Yes, and there was Antinna and the others; they were all good people, for only the bad would harm everyone.
Brother Brendel’s enemies were all bad people.
In Funiya’s young heart, such simple logic took root.
Brendel wiped the spots of blood from her forehead, then turned to look ahead: they were very close to Firburh, but half an hour had already passed—time was still tight. Nevertheless, the enemy would probably continue to allow them to advance so boldly.
The undead of Madara should have appeared by now.
The young lord looked around, quickly spotting what he had wanted to find among Grudin’s retainers; it was not the skeletal soldiers or pale riders he had imagined, but puppets.
Seven puppets were hiding among the noble retainers, swiftly approaching in this direction. Their movements were so stealthy that no one, not even Medisa, noticed the concealed danger beneath the surface. After all, the silver elf princess was most familiar with enemies other than these bony husks—
However, these creatures’ supposed hidden actions were glaringly obvious to Brendel, like sneaking in an empty street; the young man was far too familiar with them.
Less than ten meters.
The puppets’ eyes glimmered with eerie green light, and it seemed they were about to strike.
Brendel immediately handed Funiya over to the nearby Crenshia, taking the moment of surprise from the middle-aged mercenary captain to leap forward.
The charge skill activated in an instant.
Everyone barely caught a glimpse of a fleeting shadow, then seven swords flashed in the air like falling snowflakes, the action yet to be completed—when they heard seven sharp cracks like tearing leather.
Then the scene before them suddenly shifted from static to motion, creating an optical illusion that stretched the timeline, as seven incomplete puppets fell apart like garbage, their limbs scattering in the air, flying back whence they came.
The sounds of heavy objects hitting the ground echoed, and the noble retainers below had already fallen to the ground in droves.
Brendel finished the assault, flicking the longsword back, standing at the very front of all the mercenaries. In that moment, everyone inhaled sharply; although they already knew this young noble was of golden tier strength, witnessing him strike without reservation was still overwhelming.
It was as if time had stopped when he stood there.
The momentum of the army was forcefully brought to a halt.
And at that precise moment, one of the crusader executioners suddenly roared to life, a towering figure that bellowed and swung his axe as if it had risen from the ground itself, crashing down with a colossal noise. The street’s stone slabs shattered, and dirt flew as this terrifying monster cleared away a dozen noble retainers standing before him, swinging his axe towards Brendel.
Brendel stood still, watching this being. He remembered being chased by a similar creature at the auction in Bruglas a few months ago, yet at this moment, the creature’s movements seemed slow, as if played in slow motion.
The young man believed he would need just one sword stroke to cleave the opponent apart.
But he did not move.
A silver lance whizzed past him from behind, and in the blink of an eye, the sharp spear hit the massive axe with a ‘clang,’ knocking it back.
Not just repelled, but severed at its base; the entire axe blade flew far away in a metallic clash, landing in the distant crowd, triggering a wave of screams.
The mercenaries paused, looking up at the colossal figure, all of them gasping in cold air.
Although they already knew the undead of Madara were within the city, seeing these legendary monsters in person made them overcome with fear.
The towering executioner appeared confounded, glancing at the broken dual-bladed axe in his hands, then at the small silver elf girl standing between him and the young man. The flicker of the soul flame in his hollow eye sockets dimly glimmered.
“My lord,” Medisa furrowed her brow. Being undead herself, the aura of the undead made her feel familiar, but the pure killing intent emanating from the other side made the silver elf girl uneasy.
Brendel did not reply to her.
The young man turned his head to a certain direction on the battlefield. He saw a shadow moving and let out a cold snort, swiftly thrusting his right hand forward. The black steel longsword in his grasp shot out like a bolt of black lightning towards that direction—
With a ‘clang’ of metallic resonance—
The black steel sword seemed to hit an air wall; sparks ignited as it ricocheted, slamming down three times in a row on the ground, sliding a long distance before stopping.
Yet the young man’s gaze remained fixed. He watched as the air began to swirl, as if a layer of translucent black mist was dissipating, revealing a tall skeletal figure clad in brass armor, wielding a battle axe behind it.
Kabais’s dark eye sockets flickered with pale yellow flames, staring unmoving at Brendel.
The upright axe in its hand bore a deep gash, evidently from the previous clash with the black steel sword. However, Brendel was taken aback that a prominent figure like a deputy commander of Madara would wield a mere battle axe.
He raised an eyebrow.
In that moment, everyone halted.
Both noble retainers and mercenaries stood wide-eyed, staring at the suddenly appearing skeletal general—
Thanks to the war of the Black Rose, the “Reaper” Kabais was a name well-known, if not throughout Erluin, at least among the upper echelons of Erluin and across the Southlands.
Especially since high-ranking generals from the skeletal class were few in number among the undead army of Madara, this dark lord was the only one who simultaneously bore the title of “Cunning” among the skeletal generals.
And his striking brass armor from three centuries earlier, from the Cruzrek Dynasty, made it easy for everyone to recognize his identity.
“K-Kabais…”
“…General of the Undead of Madara…”
“How could he be here…”
Whispers swept through the battlefield like a wave of black tide, as if a freezing wind swept through, causing everyone to halt their actions.
In an instant, both sides unexpectedly ceased fighting.
“The rumors were true,” Kabais paid no mind to everything happening around him. The tall skeletal general’s soul flames flickered in his eyes as he looked at Brendel: “You are proficient in black magic…”
Brendel scoffed.
“Merely a trivial dark curtain, just superficial,” the young man shot back.
Yet he was also keenly aware of his surroundings. The dark curtain surrounding Kabais wasn’t simple; it was not like the typical work of a necromancer. He instinctively felt that Rothko was nearby.
“Who are you, young man?” Kabais questioned, its voice raspy and low. “The tricks of the Copper Dragon Retao may fool you foolish nobles, but they cannot fool me—”
“You are their true leader, aren’t you?”
“And the one who led the refugees of Ridenburg to break free from my lord’s siege was you, right?”
“Young commander,” Kabais raised its head, its jaw splitting open in a silent grin, “I have long wanted to meet you here on this battlefield—”
As these words left its mouth.
All around, gasps echoed.
……
(PS: Two updates today.) (To be continued. For more chapters and to support the author, please log in to read!)
