Chapter 30: Act 22 – The Unexpected
The decision to split the troops into three directions was quickly passed; what remained was the issue of setting off.
Captain Marden personally led the guard to initiate a breakout attack against the Undead Army in Madara at the predetermined time, while Brensen took the opportunity to lead the remaining villagers of Buche who were spared from the disaster north across the Dagger River. Meanwhile, Brendel and Romaine crossed the Wezel Mountain Path to carry the message to Ridenburg.
In three hours…
When the dissolution was announced, most of the young guards silently turned to leave, with no extra words exchanged, only the sound of their equipment clanging as they walked.
The campfire crackled as it burned, casting shadows that danced across the leaf-strewn and rocky shore. Aside from preparing for the attack at dawn, individuals had many more things to ready; the night still stretched long—the last few hours felt more like an ordeal for everyone.
Freya had to gather the rest of the third squad, while Brendel needed to pack a backpack with the remaining bottle of Holy Water No. 5. The extra bottle had already been used on Joson, reviving the young man and earning the gratitude of the villagers of Buche and his family—though he had said so at the time, Brendel still could not watch someone die before his eyes.
He felt that being part of the modern world constantly influenced him, creating a resistance to this war-torn realm. After a moment of thought, he felt reassured; it was this pursuit of beauty that urged him to change the world.
He casually stuffed two days’ worth of food into his backpack, mainly consisting of dried meat strips and a type of dry cake made from flour, salt, and plant tubers. The productivity level in the world of the Amber Sword was still relatively high; in a true medieval setting, one would not see such riches.
In truth, only those who really understood this world knew it was a civilization of no low standing, but its development seemed to have taken a different path from Earth.
However, when he pulled out the long-necked bottle containing Holy Water No. 5, our protagonist paused. He noticed a hard piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the bottle. It looked affixed, and he easily removed it.
The item was about the size of a playing card, palm-sized, with a magical array-like pattern on the back and the front depicted in an oil painting style—showing a knight kneeling, clad in armor, hands raised high with a sword.
In the upper left corner of the card was an ancient numeral ‘II’, and at the bottom center were six yellow crystals. Brendel recognized those six crystals—known in the game as “Elemental Attributes,” indicating an Earth Attribute Level 6.
But what was this?
Brendel was well-versed and rarely stumbled upon anything he didn’t know in the game, yet this item posed a puzzle. After some thought, he recalled that he might have accidentally brought it out from Jirande’s tomb, but that didn’t provide him with any clues.
In the game, he could consult a plethora of chaotic knowledge, but here, Brendel faced only his local knowledge, basic knowledge, and military organization knowledge; what could he possibly look up?
With his mind racing, he couldn’t help but raise the card and ask the Merchant Miss, who was busy mending a frayed edge of her skirt with a needle and thread, “Do you recognize this, Little Romaine?”
“No, don’t call me that!” Romaine’s small brows shot up. “Huh? What is this, a tarot card?”
“I know tarot cards.”
“Well, I don’t know then,” she replied.
Brendel looked back at the card, about to say something when suddenly, he squinted slightly. He saw Brensen and several young guards leading their horses from the shadows of the nearby woods.
What did they want to do? He suddenly recalled Brensen’s odd behavior during the discussions with Marden, a surge of suspicion filling his heart. He couldn’t help but tuck the card away and stood up to follow.
“Romaine, wait for me here.”
“Okay, Brendel.”
Although the members of the guard were excellent young individuals with outstanding personal abilities compared to the average person, their vigilance was lacking. A whole group passed by without noticing that one person was trailing behind.
It should be noted that Brendel had been a small-team enthusiast back in the day; when a few people had to confront a large guild, they often had to employ stealth tactics. Thus, he, although not a master, was at least experienced, and it was quite easy for him to deceive these youngsters with little counter-surveillance experience.
It was only that Brendel himself didn’t realize he had already used those past skills in his movements.
This scene might not have seemed significant to others, but to Zeta, who was on lookout in the trees, it was astonishing. He recognized at a glance that it was the young man named Brendel; their captain had explicitly told them he was just a good-for-nothing except for his swordsmanship.
However, swordsmanship among the militia wasn’t really remarkable; someone like Freya or Aissen could easily take on ten of them, simply choosing not to engage out of disdain—after all, once they joined the guard, they had their own pride.
Just like Brensen, no matter how much he mocked Brendel, he would never propose to duel and teach him a lesson, as that would be to lower his own status in their group.
But now, Zeta was seeing something entirely different. He recalled that while studying scouting courses, a reconnaissance soldier from a mountain legion had come to impart some real combat experiences—someone who had once received a Crimson Medal, but compared to the young man before him, his skills hadn’t even reached that level.
Brendel seemed like a shadow in the dark, his movements adapting to the changes in the firelight from the nearby valley; had it not been for the moment he happened to be between Zeta and the light source, Zeta would have believed he had no chance to discover him.
Could it be that Vice-Captain Brensen’s understanding of the other side was wrong? Was he actually a scout from a regular army? Or a spy from Madara?
Zeta suddenly felt a surge of tension; what should he do? First, he absolutely couldn’t alert anyone, or the vice-captain’s plan would be foiled—after all, they were less than thirty meters from the camp, and any commotion would draw others in.
He couldn’t help but take a breath and gestured to Leysen, who was in another tree nearby, to pay attention to Brendel’s direction. Leysen initially found it strange that this guy kept pointing to empty places; was he drunk? But he quickly spotted Brendel in that direction, his expression changing at once.
What is this, a chameleon?
“What should we do?” he immediately gestured in question.
“I’ll go first; you cover me from the right,” Zeta responded with gestures.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, the other side’s swordsmanship is very strong, somewhere around mid-level no rank.”
Mid-level no rank was a technical term specifically for swordsmen, roughly equivalent to the best standard among guard recruits. The next level above that was White Rank swordsman, corresponding to player levels 5-20. Zeta was concerned that the enemy might have concealed strength and deliberately adjusted Brensen’s estimate upward.
Leysen nodded to indicate understanding.
…
Brendel was equally taken aback; over twenty people and more than ten battle horses—was Brensen planning a rebellion? However, he knew it wasn’t possible and had no need to follow up further; as he listened to the people in front talking in low voices, he planned to move closer. Suddenly, instinctively, he felt a foreboding sense of danger.
It was too quiet; he hadn’t heard the sound of insects from the start.
Brendel’s experience was extensive; although typically in such actions, scouting and searches were carried out by the nightingales in their team, he remembered the one he had collaborated with the longest— a girl named “Shadow,” who unfortunately had stopped playing later.
But after fighting so many battles, he had developed a keen instinct; even the slightest hint of wind or movement would raise his alert.
Just like when he had sensed Rothko’s probing in Buche’s old house.
Brendel immediately felt a hand trying to wrap around his neck from behind; this was a common tactic among scouts—he instinctively leaned backward, one hand supporting the stranger’s elbow while the other pressed down on the stranger’s wrist. He slid his body down, raised both hands high, and suddenly pushed forward—a black shadow flew out, crashing into a nearby tree with a muffled groan.
The two of them were about equally matched in strength, although Brendel had a slight advantage. As he saw the shadow fall to the ground, it did not immediately go on the defensive but instead turned to leap at him. His heart tightened in realization that there was another person.
A flash of silver—Brendel’s Dawnlight Stab had already been drawn. He stepped aside, the sword now pressed against the neck of the person coming up behind.
The eerie sword light illuminated both of their faces.
Astonished Leysen and Zeta, who had speculated that Brendel’s swordsmanship might surpass what their vice-captain had mentioned, but surely only to a limited extent. They had seen Brensen’s swordsmanship; he was among the elite of the guard, yet by mere sword skills, one shouldn’t expect to take on two!
They couldn’t help but feel as if they were in a dream, glancing at the sword in the other’s hand—what was going on?
…
“Captain Marden is a veteran of the November War; everyone is well aware of this fact. He has already served the kingdom once and proven his loyalty. Listen to me, everyone, don’t we have an old saying? If Lady Martha allows someone to survive, then you must cherish that luck—”
“We cannot let a veteran who has survived countless battles gamble his life once more, which is why I am proposing this strategy; allow me to lead you to fight for the protection of Buche. This is not about stripping anyone of their glory; rather, I cannot avoid it—”
“Well said, Vice-Captain.”
“We support you.”
“Captain Marden will understand you.”
Brensen smiled; he had already decided to refuse when Marden ordered him to lead the villagers to break through to the Dagger River. Yet he understood the old man’s temperament and knew he would never oppose it, so he decided to take a gamble.
He also realized that Marden was trying to protect him; the old captain had repeatedly stated that one day, he would excel and become a pillar of the country’s future. But Brensen also understood that Erluin did not need cowards.
With that thought, he couldn’t help but think of Brendel. That good-for-nothing guy had actually suggested crossing the Wezel Mountain Path; he maliciously suspected the fellow was merely looking for an excuse to run away, as it didn’t seem impossible.
But just then, a faint sound in the quiet forest made everyone turn their heads.
They saw Brendel, sword drawn, coming out from behind the bushes, pointing it at Zeta and Leysen. At first, there was a moment of silence, then every face revealed an expression of seeing a ghost.
“Zeta?”
“Leysen, what are you doing?”
“Haha, just a slip-up,” Zeta said, looking embarrassed.
And Brendel was astonished, staring at the usually overbearing vice-captain, who was still wearing that familiar dark expression; how could he not? If he shouted out here, the plan would be in ruins.
Yet Brendel had not anticipated that this guy would be so audacious as to try and replace Marden by single-handedly leading these young people willing to follow him to launch a feigned attack on Madara.
What kind of spirit was this?
Brendel found it somewhat ridiculous, though inevitably with some surprise and admiration. Was it the innocence and passion of youth, or the pursuit of ideals? Yet he perceived a hint of responsibility in Brensen’s somber face.
The responsibility of this guard vice-captain.
“What do you want?” Brensen asked in a deep voice, naturally wishing to sound more forceful, but regrettably he didn’t want the other to sabotage his plan.
Though it seemed almost inevitable.
Brendel lowered his sword—
…
