Chapter 304: Act 71 – The Underground King (22) (Second Update)
Kuran looked at the young man sitting firmly on the silver war steed with a somewhat complicated expression. He had entered the Gold realm thirty years ago and only stabilized at the mid-level a few years ago. But this young man seemed to be the favorite of heaven—no, even the Enlightened Ones could not reach the Gold mid-level at such a young age unless they were chosen by fate.
All those chosen by fate, however, were bound by the shackles of destiny, having been robbed of part of their physical self from birth—like blind Yula. So the old swordsman didn’t even consider this direction when he saw Brendel. He paused for a moment, then asked anxiously: “Young man, whose soul mark is yours?”
“What?” Brendel was taken aback.
“Don’t feign ignorance with me. I’m asking whose soul mark you bear. You know what I mean!” The elder suddenly angrily jumped around, shouting: “This is important, tell me quickly—”
“What are you talking about? What do I know?”
Brendel was genuinely confused. He thought Kuran had come to remind him of something, but the old man asked a series of incomprehensible questions instead.
Just as he was about to ask, the massive voice above the arena suddenly sounded again, interrupting their conversation: “Mortal, do you wish to continue the challenge?”
“Of course,” Brendel replied.
“Boy, answer me!” Kuran shouted outside, pounding on the wall of air. But Brendel gestured for him to wait as he looked up, waiting for the unseen host to announce the rules.
Sure enough, a row of emerald green text appeared on his retina—
“The Nightmare Arena.”
“The next battlefield is—the Nightmare Arena!” The thunderous voice echoed above, announcing the same message to everyone.
Brendel’s expression immediately changed.
“What is the Nightmare Arena, Lord?” Medisa furrowed her eyebrows and turned to ask softly.
…
“What is the Nightmare Arena, Kewen?” At the same moment and place, Mahler turned to his companion and asked the same question.
“I don’t know.” The answer from the frail youth was simple.
“What are they arguing about?” But Joeka’s attention was focused on Brendel and Kuran. He was more concerned about whether his group could all leave here safely than the bizarre world around him.
“I don’t know.” The same reply came.
“But why does he continue the challenge? There’s no one left to save here!” one of the youths asked.
“I don’t think this is that simple,” someone replied. “I don’t know where we are, but building a place like this must cost a lot, right? Is it just for a game of catching or releasing people?”
His words resonated with many. They all looked up worriedly around them.
“Hmph, you don’t know the hobbies of the noble lords, perhaps they did it just for fun!” Yet others countered.
“This place isn’t necessarily something cooked up by the noble lords. If my memory serves right, we were previously under the mine. I feel strongly that it has something to do with that thing we dug up.”
“That’s right, I’m inclined to agree with that! Moreover, that was a dragon earlier. Those things seem—how should I put it, I feel like I’m in a dream now, not sure if it’s real or not.”
The young man said as he touched the cold iron bars.
The group fell silent.
“His goal is the sword,” Kewen’s voice wasn’t loud, but he spoke after the incessant chatter from the youths had settled, lending his words particular weight.
The frail youth stared at the dark longsword on the central stone monument of the arena. He had noticed that Brendel had cast his gaze in that direction several times.
Once he said this, the others felt his words made sense.
“So he doesn’t intend to save us?” Someone inquired anxiously.
“Why should others save us—?” This was a voice of doubt.
“Kewen?” Joeka looked at his companion. In his mind, Kewen was the most knowledgeable and decisive person he had met. Though Kewen didn’t talk much most of the time, his words always held insight.
“I have a way,” Kewen whispered softly but as if to boost his own confidence, “I’ll try to persuade him.”
“How will you persuade him?” Mahler asked in confusion.
“Make a deal with him.”
Mahler’s eyes widened: “You’re not serious about using your worthless oddities to make a deal with him, right? If you annoy him, it won’t be good for us!”
Kewen didn’t respond, just silently glanced at his companion.
…
“The Nightmare Arena is an extreme mode. In this area, no matter how strong you are, you are just an ordinary person. Here, you must use skills to defeat your enemies.”
“Skills?” Medisa’s delicate eyebrows slightly raised, “What skills?”
Brendel flicked his finger against the sword blade: “The art of combat.”
The silver elf maiden fell silent, as if thinking. Though it sounded favorable to them, she wouldn’t think so. Despite Lord not mentioning, she roughly guessed it wouldn’t be that simple.
Meanwhile, Brendel looked up at the sky. Symbols appeared overhead soon—runes in dwarvish, ancient/modern Cruzic, Talaric, Elvish, Draconic, and even a language that startled Brendel: he touched his nose, pretending not to notice the familiar block characters.
But here already showed enough oddity, the floating Chinese characters in the sky did not attract much attention. For ancient civilizations, it seemed unusual not to have a cryptic language.
And all the people present were more focused on the content of those characters:
One, Force Dissolution (both fighters’ power is forcibly reduced to below 10 units)
Two, Skill Dissolution (all other abilities of both fighters, except for designated skills, are automatically removed)
Three, Swordsmanship (designated skill: swordsmanship)
Juliette sucked in a sharp breath. Although the young Lord’s power had amazed her, the female mercenary leader knew better—strength and its level are different from each other—like the Enlightened who may be born with silver-level power—swordsmanship is different. This is a craft that requires years of training. Without decades of immersion, no matter how talented a person is, it’s impossible for them to be called a master in swordsmanship. In Erluin, Cruz, even across all of Vaunte, those called great masters are mostly white-haired elders reaching their eighties.
“Don’t worry, Juliette,” a delicate voice came from behind, Xi seemed to perceive the female leader’s concern. But the red-haired girl showed more confidence in Brendel. She buried her worries deep in the amber in her eyes: “The Lord’s swordsmanship is extremely powerful—”
“I know the Lord’s swordsmanship is powerful,” Juliette responded. But she frowned: “Yet we don’t know who His Lordship’s opponent will be,” she whispered as a reminder: “Even in Erluin’s history, there are many renowned sword saints.”
Xi straightened up, unable to suppress her own concerns as well.
Brendel himself was worried too. His thoughts were actually similar to the mercenary leader’s. The Nightmare Challenge wasn’t that simple. He had already started thinking about which swordsmanship master he would face.
The young man touched the sword in his hand, suddenly feeling the light around dimming. In the next moment, Miaisa, the silver war steed beneath him, and even the wind spirit spiders in the sky all disappeared instantly.
A murmur of surprise rose around them.
The ability of the Travel Mage was also taken away. Immediately, Brendel felt a chill run up his scalp. He had hoped this ability, which had always proven like a cheat code, could escape the rules, but now it was clear that the role of a Travel Mage was still bound by the rules of this world.
However, fortunately, Brendel wasn’t dependent enough on the identity of a Travel Mage that he couldn’t fight without it. He just took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and remained alert watching around.
When the light dimmed momentarily, he realized that he had been transported to an unfamiliar area—the ground was no longer sand, but rough granite neatly cut granite slabs forming a vast arena.
Brendel glanced around the entire venue, then noticed a dark figure appearing to the far north. He squinted slightly and identified the identity represented by the figure: “Bud?”
“Bud the Crossblade.”
Kuran and Juliette immediately thought of the same name. Bud wasn’t unknown in Erluin. Moreover, his peculiar stance of the sword style allowed this old swordsman and the leader of the female mercenary group to recognize him immediately.
Kuran furrowed his brows deeply. He had met that prodigal young man years ago and was well aware of his prowess in swordsmanship. But he found some solace in the thought that the Busse school likely wouldn’t fall too short, after all, it was the lineage of a certain person.
Juliette, however, appeared relieved. She had seen Bud only once during a casual visit to Lantonrand as a mercenary. Of course, she knew his sword style, but in her view, it was much easier to handle than some famed sword masters.
But before either of them could fully process the situation in their minds, another shadow appeared in the scene.
Brendel couldn’t help but cry out in disbelief as an old acquaintance appeared—the White Knight Aibodun.
Another shadow appeared in the third position. Brendel also recognized this person—Viscount Test.
The fourth figure cast a shadow that instantly made sweat break out on Brendel’s forehead. The silhouette was all too familiar—he almost threw the sword in his hand. In front of him in the southern part, stood his own grandfather.
“Tobus!” Kuran’s expression changed instantly.
“That is…,” Juliette’s expression also changed. She felt as if something was stuck in her throat, preventing her from speaking: “Ha… Ha… Harasgulund…”
“Who is that?” Xi furrowed her brow and asked doubtfully.
Juliette turned to look at her with a strange expression, unable to articulate her words immediately.
But Brendel had no time to pay attention to these things around him because he realized he might be facing a huge problem—
Facing four opponents at once.
“By Martha!”
…
(pS. This chapter has been corrected and can now be read normally.)
