Chapter 283: Act 50 – King of the Underground (1) (First Update, Please Support)
Kuran stepped back and deflected the spear wielded by the Silver Elf Princess with the hilt of his sword, firmly shouting, “Stop!” At that moment, all movements seemed to freeze for an instant—suddenly, the mine began to quake!
Blandel, Medisa, and Xi immediately turned pale and instinctively looked up—then with a loud crack, everyone saw a ten-meter-long fissure open at the top of the tunnel, from which mud and debris quickly cascaded down, drenching everyone in the process.
This sudden change interrupted the battle, and Blandel quickly lowered his head, squinting his eyes. He turned to shout at Xi behind him to retreat quickly, knowing that things were not looking good; he hadn’t expected the mine to be more fragile than he had imagined.
Blandel naturally attributed this to the battle of several golden-level forces below, yet he vaguely sensed something was wrong. Their fight with Kuran had only just begun, and logically, it shouldn’t have caused such a disturbance.
However, there was no time for further thought; as he moved backward, he suddenly heard Xi shout loudly from the other side, “Lord, be careful—”
But before she could finish her sentence, Schafflund’s mine trembled once more. Huge rocks finally broke free from the mountain and crashed down, causing the light in the tunnel to become chaotic and dim.
Blandel was about to dodge, but a massive amount of soil and rocks surged in from one side toward him.
“Damn it!”
This was his last thought before everything went black.
Even the terrifying rumblings from beneath the surface spread to the ground above, where a young noble secretary, tasked with overseeing workers in the mining area, lost his footing and tumbled down.
Okins finally managed to crawl out from the rubble, bloodied and battered, feeling the ground shake beneath him, producing a thunderous sound. His face turned pale as he frantically glanced around—suddenly, chaos erupted in the mine, with many miners sprawled on the ground, while more fled in panic.
What happened? An earthquake? Is Lady Martha angry?
He couldn’t help but tremble at the thought.
…
In the Frostfall month, Vlada had already taken on a somewhat desolate air. Princess Grifian gazed out from the balcony, her pale silver eyes reflecting a dim glow, where in the distant mist appeared the treetops of a forest, seemingly dragged down by thick ink—
Some of the trees had almost lost all their leaves.
Yet, inside the room, the fireplace crackled as flames danced, glowing embers occasionally floated from the glowing coals, landing on the bright red tiles outside the hearth.
The room began to grow warm.
The Princess wore only a red and white fur shawl over her nightgown, and her silver hair hung loosely and somewhat messily over her shoulder, trailing down. Barefoot beneath the nightgown, she lowered her head, distracted, placing her pale little feet on the plush carpet—watching her fair skin sink into the soft fur, then smiled slightly.
Eufhail naturally could not see what was happening below the desk; otherwise, he would have frowned and scolded the Princess—his half-student—for not always paying attention to her appearance and manners.
However, the old minister’s attention was mostly on the documents scattered across the desk. The report, written on parchment, had actually arrived on this mahogany table three days after the knight’s tournament, delivered personally by Nemeses.
At this moment, the Lady Knight stood beside Eufhail, a step back, dressed in a black knight’s outfit. Her bare skin of her hands and neck shone white like fine porcelain—she stood straight, her gaze fixed ahead.
The room fell silent for a moment.
After quite a while, Princess Grifian finally recovered from her low blood pressure after getting up. She rubbed her forehead, raising her silver eyes, appearing somewhat lethargic—her pupils reflecting the forms of her two subjects:
“I’m sorry, Lord Eufhail, Nemeses, I woke up a bit late.”
“Be sure to rest and keep a balance between work and relaxation,” the Lady Knight spoke first, not Eufhail.
Eufhail glanced back at her, finding her expressionless, but this did not surprise him much—she had always been this way, showing a meticulous concern for the Princess—not just as a subject to a ruler.
“What is this?” Princess Grifian asked, picking up the parchment report and glancing at it. She frowned slightly, then placed her hand against a fist-sized crystal fragment nearby.
The crystal immediately emitted light, displaying a series of images.
Upon closer inspection, it became apparent that these were recordings from the knight’s tournament a few days prior. However, the figure depicted was a young girl, whom the Princess recognized as Freya; she was momentarily taken aback before replaying it.
Princess Grifian raised her head, a hint of curiosity flashing in her eyes: “Is there a problem?”
“Swordsmanship,” answered Nemeses.
“Swordsmanship?”
“That little girl’s swordsmanship has some issues,” came Eufhail’s reply this time.
“Isn’t she the daughter of Everton? What sort of issues could there be?” the girl retorted.
Nemeses nodded, shaking a bell she held. As the sound rang out, the outer door opened with a response, revealing a young knight clad in chest armor, draped in a red mantle with white fur edges, stepping forward to inquire:
“What are your orders, Lady Nemeses?”
“Attack me!” the Lady Knight commanded succinctly.
The knight was taken aback for a moment but didn’t ask further. After stepping back, he drew his sword. Being a royal guard knight, he possessed golden-level strength, and his strike was executed smoothly; however, Nemeses simply stepped back to evade his first attack—
Shifting her body aside while closing the distance to her opponent, she unsheathed her sword halfway, pressing it firmly against his shoulder and neck. She leaned forward, forcing him to the ground with her blade.
In the blink of an eye, Nemeses held the sword in both hands, pressed against the knight’s neck as he sat down hard on the floor.
“Nemeses, your swordsmanship has improved again,” said the Half-Elf Maiden, her eyes lighting up.
Yet, the kingdom’s knight sitting on the ground showed no signs of discouragement. He grasped the hand Nemeses extended and stood up, lowering his head to reply, “I let you down!”
Nemeses had long held the position of Chief Guardian Knight for Grifian Corvado Odrefice. Although she was not entirely in the same system, she could direct the royal guard knights—one could say she was half their superior.
Despite some differing opinions about this female superior, most young knights in the order were both respectful and admiring.
In terms of jealousy, this lady knight was already infamous.
Nemeses nodded, saying no more, instead sheathed her sword and replied to Princess Grifian, “This is military swordsmanship, a technique designed to end battles quickly.”
The silver-haired maiden pondered for a moment and said, “I remember our nation’s military swordsmanship is not like this.”
“Because it has been modified,” Eufhail replied, “this swordsmanship is a refined version of military swordsmanship, emphasizing principles rather than techniques. Its core essence is to incapacitate the enemy as straightforwardly as possible—”
The minister pointed to his neck, waist, arms, and thigh, “Usually, it leads to death, but there are also other methods. However, a person who has not extensively accumulated experience on the battlefield cannot employ this swordsmanship.”
The Princess fell into contemplation and replayed the images on the crystal, focusing on the latter half of Freya’s last attack:
“Is this what you mean?”
The Lady Knight nodded.
“After Nemeses shared this with me, I observed it closely myself,” Eufhail replied, “that little girl’s disarming move was purely impromptu, but the subsequent attacking motion bore the hallmarks of military swordsmanship!”
The Half-Elf Princess frowned, then relaxed, revealing her interest.
“You say this swordsmanship requires extensive battlefield experience to master, yet she lacks such history. She was a militia in Buche, only participating in the war against Madara for a few days.”
“Yes.”
“But there is another possibility,” Eufhail replied quietly, “an old soldier.”
“Are you suggesting someone taught her, that Marden?” Grifian asked.
“No, I’ve had someone investigate this old Chief of Security. He is indeed capable and fought in the Eleventh Month War, but he is merely an ordinary old soldier.”
“Yes, and his other apprentice doesn’t know this swordsmanship either,” the Princess nodded, referring to Brensen.
However, there was yet another possibility: that Freya was a genius, able to understand swordsmanship without requiring prolonged accumulation. But given her acknowledged abilities in the presence of those gathered, this possibility was naturally passed over.
“Who could it be?” the Half-Elf Maiden seemed puzzled. “She doesn’t know more people.”
“There’s someone outside our view, Your Highness,” Eufhail remarked.
Grifian quickly reacted, a strange glimmer appearing in her silver eyes. “You mean him?”
Eufhail nodded.
The Half-Elf Princess soon regained her calmness. “But he’s just a young man, unless someone taught him.” She tilted her head. “Can you find out more about him?”
She suddenly realized that as she asked this question, a strange anticipation filled her heart—was it to understand the situation more? Or to know more about the other party?
Or perhaps both, but even the Princess herself was uncertain.
“Unless we can return to Buche.”
“Is there no news from those who escaped Buche?”
“They are not familiar with him,” Nemeses interjected. “I even privately sent someone to ask Brensen, but he said he didn’t know.”
“He said he didn’t know,” Princess Grifian thought for a moment. “And not unclear?”
Nemeses nodded; she sensed the issue too, but could not find more leads.
“Let’s set this aside for now,” the Princess said, inserting her fingers into her silver locks, adjusting a silver ring at the back. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. Can this swordsmanship be disseminated?”
“That girl cannot. Lady Nemeses has observed her for a while; she also knows very little about it,” Eufhail shook his head.
“Unless we can find that person,” the girl looked up and asked. “Right?”
Both nodded.
Princess Grifian regarded the Lady Knight. “Nemeses, cannot you also restore this swordsmanship? You are one of the few swordsmanship geniuses in the kingdom; you have no methods at all?” she inquired.
Nemeses seemed to be pondering something; then she came to herself, saying, “I will do my best, but don’t hold too many hopes. After all, I am not a warrior.”
“Eh?”
“I mean, this swordsmanship is unlikely to be restored without certain battlefield experience,” the Lady Knight replied plainly.
“I understand. I will ask Lord Eufhail to assist you, and he can find a few veterans from the Eleventh Month War to discuss this matter with you—”
Grifian thought again, “In the near future, besides preparing for the Ampere Seale trip, spend more time on this matter. I hold high hopes for the dissemination of this swordsmanship, so thank you both!”
“The old minister understands.”
“Yes,” Nemeses also nodded slightly.
…
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