Chapter 26: Act 18 – Another Footprint of History
The vast land lay asleep in darkness, silent as if mourning the souls that had perished on this land. The starry sky hung low, with meteors streaking across the purplish-red expanse, fleeting as if symbolizing the fleeting names that had shone brightly in the long river of history.
Brensen stood silently in the cold night wind, issuing one command after another. The security team galloped through the ruins of Qingcun, exterminating the remaining enemies; all undead must be purified—everything.
The young Chief of Security felt that this was the only way to ease his mind.
He checked the time; he had half an hour left.
Zeto observed the scene from afar, shaking the glass flask in his hand, and nudged the young man beside him. “You’re Aissen, right?”
Aissen was taken aback.
“I’m Zeto. Want some?” He raised the flat flask. “Pure Lake Fire Wine, found it with Leysen in a wine cellar. Too bad, after this war, I wonder if we’ll ever taste it again…”
He paused for a moment.
“You know, I used to have an ideal; I wanted to be the best scout.”
“But now, I somewhat regret it.”
Aissen found this person odd, but he felt a bit curious about why he would regret it. Surely, one wouldn’t regret for no reason?
“Why?” he asked.
“My biggest goal was to discover the enemy, because finding the enemy was my value. But now, what I want the most is to hide those villagers. If they’re hidden, at least they won’t be killed. But you know what? I’m powerless; I can do nothing—”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m a soldier.” Zeto took a sip of his wine. “When I saw that girl crying, I wished I could die on that battlefield just like Cornetho. But I’m still alive, so I can’t escape.”
The young man fell silent. For some reason, he subconsciously thought of Brendel, having an illusion that the young man who had led them out of difficulties time and time again could similarly guide them out of the shadows this time.
Maybe the premonition was true; all troubles would be resolved—
Hopefully.
He thought.
…
Brendel and Freya sat together.
To be honest, Brendel felt that he wasn’t good at comforting people. He believed that someone else might have a better effect in this situation, but that damned Brensen had left with a grim face, and Aissen was too far away to come over—hey, isn’t that your captain?
Fortunately, Freya soon adjusted her emotions, but she kept staring blankly in one direction, her once-bright eyes now filled with desolation.
Brendel recognized that kind of desolation; he had seen the same gaze in the one known as the Valkyrie—flowing with quiet sadness, as if it could never dissipate.
Yet he suddenly felt a bit regretful. Compared to that, he preferred the pure, soft-hearted, and somewhat stubborn Freya, the one who could get angry over trivial matters.
But how should he start speaking? He hesitated for a long time, but the words felt pale and powerless when they reached his lips. He had prepared several lines, but none seemed suitable.
While he was in pain, the girl spoke first:
“Mister Brendel.” She called out.
“Hmm?”
“Why is there war?”
Ah, he hadn’t really thought about this question seriously. In the game, the dukes would go to war over the distribution of interests, fame, or even just face, and between nations, they would fight over interests, sovereignty, and territory; flames of war could spread across the land at any time.
Previously, he might have answered that humanity, as a species, was always driven by desire, yearning for conquest and plunder, leading them to endless conflict.
But after everything that had happened today, especially the image of Freya’s frail cry forever imprinted in his heart, he realized that this answer was quite ridiculous. No one could transcend their own kin—humanity—both weak and strong.
“Wars will always happen; we can only choose to accept them.”
“We were born in a bad era; we cannot choose our era. But we can try to change it,” Brendel replied, feeling suddenly enlightened by his own words. “Perhaps we can’t change much, but at least we fought alongside many people for it—such memories are already precious.”
He thought of the days when he fought for Erluin in the game, so many friends, so many like-minded companions, so many vows; although in the end, they went their separate ways, countless memories remained—never regretted due to loss.
That was a memory belonging to Erluin.
Haunting and unforgettable.
The girl remained silent at the side.
“Freya.”
“Hmm?”
“You must really love them.”
“Yeah.” The girl replied, “After my father passed away, Aunt Syl cared for me; they were proud of me.”
“But am I not the same? I love them more than anything.”
“It’s just that I find it strange; why did heaven choose you?” Brendel said.
“Hmm?”
“Freya, have you thought about what if one day you become the guardian of this land?”
“How could that be possible, Mister Brendel? Are you secretly laughing at me—” The girl sounded a bit angry, but then her voice softened. “I want to do well as the captain, but my strength is so limited, so little. I just want to fulfill my responsibilities; I can’t do anything further.”
No, not only have you managed it, you’ve done it well. Freya, you will be Erluin’s last hero, the one most cherished by the people.
Humble, earnest, strong, kind-hearted; heaven granted you an ordinary talent, but also the most beautiful qualities and unique experiences.
Brendel turned the ebony gargoyle statue in his hand, staring into the distance, sighing. “Freya, I don’t know how far you will go in the future, but I want you to remember one thing.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you know the word ‘companion’? No matter how far you go, many people will be with you. You will never be alone.”
Freya was startled, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat. She thought of Romaine, Little Finnis, Aissen, and Markmey, and all the members of the third militia squad.
Of course, there was also Aunt Syl.
She wiped her eyes and looked up at the sky—the night was split in two by a fiery red curtain, with Qingcun ablaze, the flames in the darkness foreshadowing a greater calamity.
“Thank you.” She replied softly. “Shameless Brendel.”
Our protagonist choked.
But when he turned his head, Freya’s eyes were bright, shining like stars in the night sky. At that moment, Brendel suddenly felt that his existence was of value; at least history had changed, hadn’t it?
…
Brensen quickly got what he wanted—food, medicine. Although Qingcun’s surface had almost been completely destroyed, finding these things wasn’t difficult—undead didn’t need food or medicine; those items were just lying around carelessly.
Besides, they still had Brendel.
Although Buche, Weibin, and the three towns of Qingcun were all under Buche’s security team jurisdiction, the local youths familiar with these security teams could hardly compare to Brendel.
Thanks to his past memories, Brendel easily found the secret cellars of two noble estates. Inside were not only food and medicine but also resources—pig iron, copper, and even gold and silver. However, they couldn’t take more than they could carry; they could only seal the cellars tightly, maybe they could leave them for future use.
Of course, it wasn’t Brendel’s habit to return empty-handed from a treasure trove, especially as a player. The owners of these estates had all died in this war, and they had no descendants. Brendel knew that these estates would eventually be set ablaze by Madara’s undead—the secret cellars would later become highly sought-after by players; as long as one found one, they could make a small fortune.
That is why he was so familiar with the locations of these cellars—players are always creatures who will rise early for profit.
Although he couldn’t take large items, he certainly wouldn’t let go of magical equipment. Amidst the astonished gazes of the group, he swiftly opened several hidden compartments—most contained gold, silver, and jewels, but our protagonist looked down upon those things. In the game, these were wealth, but on the battlefield, they were utterly worthless, a burden.
The young deputy chief of security scowled, looking at him suspiciously: When did this guy learn those thieving tricks? But with his character, he wouldn’t fall so low, right?
At that moment, Brendel suddenly pulled out a set of female halfway armor. This was an antique armor, its bright surface adorned with intricate brass plating; the black and gold patterns indicated that it was an artistic piece from the era of the Return of Radiance.
However, before anyone could shift their gaze from the beautiful armor, Brendel pulled out a set of combat gear from who-knows-where. He then waved at Freya. “Freya, come here.”
“Hmm?” Our future Valkyrie was slightly taken aback.
“Try on this armor.”
“Wait,” Brensen couldn’t help but instinctively mock, “Brendel, you don’t want Freya to wear that decorative armor, do you? Not all armors are meant for actual combat, you understand?”
Brendel couldn’t be bothered to pay him any mind; he took the combat gear and was about to put it on Freya. However, the girl blushed and shook her ponytail, taking the gear. “I, I’ll do it myself.”
He froze; he hadn’t had so many formalities in the game. He and those female knights and warrior companions had always helped each other put on armor before, forgetting that this was reality.
“What were you thinking?” Brensen asked as he saw Freya running behind the woodpile to change, unable to restrain himself.
“What?”
“That’s a piece of art, too heavy. You don’t really want to put Freya in it to fight, do you? Besides, has your militia learned how to fight in armor?”
“Too heavy?” This was the first time Brendel heard this statement. He couldn’t help but turn back to glance at the young deputy chief, wondering if he was a bit off in the head.
He didn’t elaborate further, gesturing for Freya to come over, then helped her put on the halfway armor. He then asked, “How does it feel?”
“A bit heavy, not very flexible.”
The young men behind Brensen snickered, clearly an obvious decorative piece—wasn’t it supposed to be heavy? Of course, most of those laughs were friendly, but a few were malicious mockery.
Brendel ignored them, reciting, “S’taz.”
This word was an ancient term meaning “wind.”
In an instant, the halfway armor was enveloped in a layer of blue light, floating up from Freya, tightly protecting her entire body. The girl was taken aback, exclaiming in surprise, “This—?”
Brendel turned his head. “The wind element-infused Wind Queen’s halfway armor, and yet someone described it as too heavy? I bet the elven craftsman who designed this armor wouldn’t rest in peace even if he were dead.”
Brensen’s expression darkened, while the young knights behind him fell silent.
