Chapter 223: Act 157 – Dawn (Part 10) (Second Update, Request for Support)
The intense flash of light even penetrated the barrier composed of soul power, as if the entire space was shaking. Thunder rolled in, and an electric ring swept through from all directions—
With a crackling sound, the young man, who was quietly confronting the undead lord Cabais, suddenly felt something unusual. He looked down at his wool coat, where the fibers stood on end. Raising his head again, arcs of electricity suddenly appeared and disappeared along his black trench coat, the street, and even the surrounding buildings and ruins, with blue and white sparks extending along every conductor, crackling loudly.
Brendel paused slightly, instinctively sensing something was wrong.
He turned around, but the mist ahead remained calm; this eerie silence instead made him feel a hint of vigilance. He stepped forward, and as he moved, Cabais also shifted, the tall skeletal figure stepping out from the ruins to block his path. Brendel glanced at the creature, asking irritably, “What, have you not had enough lessons?”
Cabais opened his jaw and smiled silently: “No harm in trying.”
The young man’s expression darkened, and with a ‘clang,’ his sword was drawn from its sheath. This was Xi’s sword, and it felt slightly lighter in his hands. Nevertheless, even this motion was enough to force Cabais to take a step back. It was evident that the undead lord was wary of his strange element, but he was still determined to keep Brendel here.
Brendel frowned; Cabais’s cunning exceeded his expectations. Without knowing what lay ahead, he dared not launch a reckless attack. Although he had the White Deer statue for reconnaissance, the undead wizard Rothko lurking in the shadows possessed far deeper mastery of magic. Playing such tricks before him would likely yield no good outcome.
Where was Medisa? Why hadn’t she reported in yet?
Brendel reached out with his senses toward the front, but it felt as though his vision had entered the mist with no response. He breathed in, and just then, a familiar, weak voice finally echoed in his mind:
“My Lord, time is limited, I’ll be brief. There is another undead commander, very strong, cough cough… his name is Bai…” This was Medisa’s voice.
But the voice abruptly stopped.
Bai?
The name exploded in Brendel’s mind. How could this guy be here? He couldn’t help but remember the cold metal mask that name represented, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. If he guessed correctly, there was only one commander in Instalung’s camp referred to that way: the Black Knight, the Harbinger, Bai Tiamas Jouyue, one of the Four Riders of the Apocalypse. But this guy was Tagus’s subordinate; shouldn’t Tagus and Madara still be battling Erluin in the Southlands? What was going on here?
If the alliance was merely with Grudin or even Rendener, there wouldn’t be a need for this heavyweight to intervene. What kind of scheme were these damned undead plotting here?
Countless thoughts flashed through Brendel’s mind as Bai’s sudden appearance caught him off guard, but the young man at least maintained an outward calm. He raised his head, coldly staring at Cabais, and stepped forward with his sword— the tall skeletal figure’s yellow soul fire flickered in its eye sockets, as if it didn’t understand why Brendel had suddenly become impulsive. But its task was singular: to block this young man.
Cabais slightly hunched his body, clutching the short spear tightly in his claws.
Facing this troublesome opponent, Brendel bared his teeth. The situation had reversed, and he had no time to linger with this guy. He darkened his face and coldly said, “Cabais, if you still want to return to the Hills of the Dead to manage your territory, I’m giving you one last chance.” In a moment of desperation, Brendel no longer cared about revealing the other’s identity.
Cabais’s eyes flickered with flame: “You know us well?”
Brendel acted as if he hadn’t heard, casually tossing his sword aside; with a ‘clang,’ the metal clashed against the ground, and then the young man lifted his head, staring at Cabais without a word.
As if looking at a dead object.
Cabais cracked his jaw and sneered: “What, young human, do you want to surrender?”
“Cabais, you fool, watch out—” Rothko’s voice came from the street.
“What?”
“Be careful, he has magical fluctuations!” the young undead wizard reminded impatiently.
Cabais paused, unable to help but gaze at the still Brendel. But while remaining cautious of an immediate attack from the young man, he pointed with a bony finger: “You mean this guy, barely over twenty, is not only a golden-tier swordsman but also a wizard? Rothko, are you sure you didn’t take up spirit-conjuring and lose your wits?” The tall skeletal figure asked in a mocking tone.
Rothko fell silent; in fact, he felt it was somewhat implausible. Because even a Chosen One could never be proficient in everything; some might be exceptionally gifted, but time was always limited. A golden-tier swordsman in their early twenties, also being a wizard, was simply absurd, likely only the sages in the Holy War possessed such strength.
But what kind of existence were the sages?
King of Flames Gilt, Queen Saint Ausoor, High Priest Fanzan, the saint Erlandta, the four sages who led various races to victory over the Dark Dragon in the Holy War—each was a true ruler over their lands. Even the Eternal Monarch Loki, who united Madara with the Mercury Staff, had to bow before these figures; no one could compare to them, either in strength or fame.
Yet both Rothko and Cabais did not suspect that they had not seen incorrectly; the magical fluctuations emanating from Brendel were not coming from a wizard—
But from a traveling mage.
Brendel lowered his eyelids, silently searching his element pool. In fact, ever since he first opened the element pool, it had seen little change: ten points of fire element, eight points of other elements, still no light or dark element pools. Looking at such a near-dormant element pool, the young man couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—relying on such meager strength, he had no ability to change the situation—Brendel closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
Then, it seemed the only remaining option had to be taken.
At the same moment, when Cabais saw Brendel close his eyes and stand motionless, instead of seizing the moment to attack, the undead lord took a cautious step back— in their previous battles, the bizarre element had inflicted such a deep psychological shadow on this tall skeleton that, while the undead did not experience fear, they also had no habitual inclination to offer themselves up for discipline.
Especially for an undead lord like Cabais, maintaining the conservative honor of dark nobility forbade such actions.
“Magical energy is gathering, Cabais.” Rothko finally couldn’t help but speak. The magical energy surrounding Brendel had already exceeded that of an intermediate wizard, reaching for the advanced threshold, seeming ready to cross the boundary between black iron and silver. A clattering sound came from Cabais’s chest, and it replied irritably, “I know, I can feel it, don’t worry—”
Indeed, a silver-tier wizard posed no threat to him.
However, the scene of a golden-tier swordsman also holding the identity of a silver-tier wizard left the undead duo at a loss for words to describe their thoughts. Rothko even doubted whether coming to find this young man was a mistaken choice; unlimited potential! He couldn’t believe he was actually witnessing the birth of such a genius.
But Brendel finally opened his eyes again, his light brown gaze calm, and at that moment, both Rothko and Cabais keenly felt—a transformation in the young man’s momentum. No longer the coldness brought by the element, but rather a state of encompassing all—
“At four o’clock, the Mataratanians call it: Dark Slumber, the phase where all things rest,” Brendel lifted his eyelids and glanced at the tall skeletal general: “If I’m not mistaken, the undead refer to it as the Midnight Daylight, the moment when dark power is at its peak during the day. I’m not wrong, am I, Cabais?”
“Ha?”
Cabais tightly gripped the short spear in his hand, emitting a meaningless syllable from its chest cavity.
“Nothing,” Brendel shook his head. “I just wanted to say that before the sun grows, the world is indeed enveloped in darkness—” He raised his hand and tossed it forward—in Cabais’s view, there was clearly nothing, but Brendel seemed to have truly thrown out a card shimmering with the light of fate: “However, the darkness is also advantageous for me!”
The card dropped to the ground.
“Fate Card: Rubis’s Mercenary, discarded back to the deck, reset entry!”
The wind element pool emptied in an instant. Then, before the astonished eyes of Cabais and Rothko, twelve mercenaries appeared alongside a heavy magical circle emerging in the street, and the just-entered Rubis’s mercenaries exchanged puzzled looks, not yet comprehending what had happened. However, only Husher reacted first, promptly asking in his heart:
“My lord, what happened? You reset the deck?”
Brendel nodded.
But Cabais’s gaze swept across these mercenaries, the soul fire in his eyes flickering slightly: “Didn’t expect you were also a summoner, young human. With silver-tier strength, summoning twelve black iron-tier combat creatures all at once—that’s a summoning spell I’ve never seen before. You are indeed no ordinary person, Brendel, or perhaps you are Viscount Garnstein. But—” The tall skeletal figure’s tone shifted as it rasped, “Do you really think adding twelve more black iron combat powers would change the situation?”
Cabais shook his head, silently sneering.
But the young man seemed to have not heard that comment. He had already calculated in his mind, turning to gaze at the wild elf sisters—
……
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