Chapter 309: Act 76 – The King of the Underground (27)
In a one versus two scenario, the two silent corpses in the arena seemed to confirm the victorious side of this struggle. It was no surprise that Brendel quickly employed the same tactic to kill Aibodun again—this white knight, who had died at his hands twice already, left Brendel feeling a bit guilty, as this situation seemed tragically ironic from any perspective.
However, the vanished white knight did not share such sentiments. Its corpse dissipated into a puff of black smoke, proving that this undead knight had never truly existed but was always a part of the arena itself, a projection.
The historical white knight had long perished in the mountains outside of Ridenburg, like countless unnamed corpses in this war.
The old man remaining before him was the same way.
Brendel looked at his grandfather, raised his sword, and the old man nodded, assuming the same starting pose. Erluin’s military swordsmanship—both seemed set to settle the score with this familiar style.
The next was an intense clash.
Brendel never expected his grandfather to be this powerful—of course, if he had known that this old man was not in his prime in Kuran’s eyes, he would surely reconsider his view of his grandfather.
At this moment, he was indeed reevaluating this old soldier, a veteran of the November War—he had received the Candlelight Medal. But if that was all it was, he might only be slightly stronger than Chief of Security Marden, but not by much.
Yet at this moment, the power the old man displayed had clearly surpassed that level.
Who was he?
Brendel couldn’t find the answer. He stepped back instinctively to dodge a cunning strike from the old man, then countered with a straightforward thrust—an unremarkable strike that pierced the old man’s chest.
The old man was momentarily taken aback.
It was as if he hadn’t anticipated this failure. Finally, he raised his head and looked at Brendel. “Well done, young man,” he said.
Then the old man transformed into black smoke and disappeared from the arena.
Brendel understood that it was the projection of the old man in his heart speaking to him—perhaps it was something the old man had said to Brendel on some past day, but such details had long faded into the dust of memory. Brendel could only reminisce about the past through the voice that vanished in the wind.
He maintained the position of thrusting his sword with one hand for a moment before finally coming back to reality. The young man shook his head and calmly returned to the center of the arena.
The air wall around him dissipated in that instant, and Kuran nearly fell forward but fortunately remembered his strength, pushing himself up awkwardly with one hand.
This old swordsman cursed internally but temporarily forgot to ask Brendel about his grandfather and the soul imprint.
“It seems you can awaken me, not by coincidence.”
Brendel stood silently in the arena for a moment, and the woman’s voice echoed in his heart once more: “It seems you can awaken me, not just by chance, young one.”
“Your talent in swordsmanship is beyond description,”
The woman’s voice tickled Brendel’s ears, as if it urged him to encourage her to say more: “Now you can tell me, who are you?” Brendel asked.
“My name is Otales—” The woman separated from his body, manifesting in an ethereal form before him.
This was the first time he had seen this woman’s appearance. Her long, wavy black hair fell neatly around her shoulders, conveying a clean and crisp strength.
Her eyes were the distinctive violet-blue of the wind elves, but much deeper, as if they had no bottom.
Brendel noticed the long, dark purple eyeshadow on this elven woman, and he couldn’t help but blink in surprise. From his first impression, she seemed dignified and serious—but this touch of enchantment rather highlighted her maturity.
He felt his breath catch slightly.
During the era of the Saints’ War, records indicated that mist elf women liked to decorate themselves with facial tattoos, but he had never seen such a fitting one before.
“Wait, you are one of the twenty-four knights…” He suddenly realized and interrupted her. He had already suspected she was a spirit from the era of the Saints’ War, but the twenty-four knights of Queen Saint Ausoor were different—
The twenty-four knights who followed Queen Saint Ausoor were indeed the most outstanding heroes of that era—the elves were not yet referred to as wind elves but were once on par with the silver elf tribe, known as the silver race—mist elves.
However, these heroes had all perished one after another in battles against the dark dragon, and the last to fall was the Blade Knight Otales—she was also the founder of this profession—who, at the brink of victory when the forces of justice almost saw the light, died on her own battlefield during the Battle of the Gray Marshes, in order to protect the Flame King.
In terms of human age, she was but sixteen.
Yet as he gazed at this woman, sword in hand and exuding exceptional grace, Brendel couldn’t help but wonder. Did she age after becoming a spirit? How else could she have matured so dramatically?
“Don’t interrupt, young one,” Otales said, placing a finger to her lips, her eyes glimmering with a hint of a smile. “Yes, I am that Otales. But you can call me Kaya; it’s my nickname—”
“I thought…” Brendel looked at the woman curiously. “I didn’t expect you did not disappear but instead became a spirit—” Spirits cannot just appear out of thin air unless in a sanctum with similar attributes to a spirit hall—like the Temple of Fire that nurtured the Flame Knights within its red hall—and possessing a ring with the capabilities of a sanctum is exceedingly rare.
This only reinforces the reputation of the Queen’s ring as an artifact.
He paused, suddenly remembering something. “What is a soul imprint?”
Otales nodded. “A soul imprint is short for the soul of the sacred emblem. The sacred emblem refers to the Queen’s sacred emblem, along with the Flame sacred emblem and the Earth sacred emblem. In our era, powerful souls were incredibly precious, and these indomitable and pure souls were the most outstanding troops to combat the dark dragon—”
“Spirit army?” Brendel tried to inquire.
Otales nodded again. “Whether it’s Queen Ausoor or the Flame King, the power of the sacred emblem they wielded is essentially the power of inheritance; this power itself originates from the dragons. Even including the sages, it’s the same,” she looked at Brendel, “It was a brutal war, and if you experience it firsthand, you will understand.”
Brendel certainly understood the brutality of the Saints’ War. He even recalled the souls of silver elves in the Shubli mountains, the same sanctum, the same spirits continuing their struggle after becoming spirits—even under Martha’s guidance.
However, he was curious; this spirit army had not been mentioned in much of history. Even Otales had informed him, he had not heard of it at all.
“Where did they go later?” Brendel suddenly felt a shock, vaguely thinking of a possibility: “After the great war, when all the races established their kingdoms, what happened to these spirits? Did they return to the embrace of Mother Earth?”
The young man thought this possibility was slim, since referring to the silver elves’ spirits in Shubli, most of them likely still existed in this world.
Sure enough, Otales shook her head. “I do not know.”
Brendel looked at her; this answer did not surprise him, as Otales had sacrificed herself in battle before the war ended, so it was understandable she wouldn’t know what happened afterward.
However, he wasn’t overly concerned with that matter at the moment. He found it difficult just to secure his footing in Erluin, let alone care about such ephemeral historical questions.
Otales seemed to sense this, as she continued, “As for what a soul imprint signifies—it’s because the power of inheritance is eternal. Queen Ausoor divided the artifact ring into twenty-four sub-rings, containing our souls within these sub-rings. We entered into a contract with Lady Martha; from then on, our existence’s purpose was to nurture the next generation of heroes for the forces of justice, like you—and other talented young ones like you.”
“But the war has ended,” Brendel replied. “Besides, don’t you regret being permanently bound to the ring?”
“We had no choice,” Otales answered. “Without the selfless sacrifices of many, the dark dragon could never be overcome. And as for the latter—who can see clearly when the flames of war will extinguish in different eras?”
“We can only ensure the continuation of civilization to the best of our abilities.”
Brendel fell silent. Compared to the nobles of this era, the sages from the Saints’ War era could indeed be considered wise. Yet this seems to be a common ailment of intelligent peoples; once life becomes comfortable, civilization tends to become lazy.
He quieted down: “So, Lady Otales, what can you do? Will you impart your skills to me like before?”
“I’m afraid not,” the woman shook her head. “That was merely a temporary measure. I can only teach you the swordsmanship I know; it’s a process built over time. It’s impossible to achieve great heights all at once, young one.”
Brendel looked at her, and this explanation was somewhat more acceptable to him.
So the power of the sacred emblem’s soul is about maximizing the potential of a gifted individual. With these spirits from the Saints’ War era as mentors, a talented person’s growth rate is certainly predictable.
However, ultimately, one still has to rely on oneself. Brendel assumed his grandfather and Kuran each had their own soul imprints, but it was clear these two had vastly different achievements.
Even if Kuran is a powerful swordsman at the golden intermediate level, considering the power of the soul imprint, he was just average.
He pondered for a moment, then asked his final question: “One last thing, Lady Otales, you mentioned this is the second time you’ve saved me. What does that mean?”
The woman smiled at him slightly:
“Did you forget about Buche’s big fire? Young one?”
Brendel was momentarily taken aback, then suddenly realized. He widened his eyes at her, feeling a surge of fear. If he hadn’t found this Queen’s ring back then, he might have already perished in the red pine forest behind his family estate.
……
(PS. Finally finished, heroically falling, the fate of a warrior.) (To be continued; for more chapters, please log in and support the author for genuine reading!)
