Chapter 391: Act 147 – Withering (First Update)
In the darkness, a glimmer of light appeared. It was the first to step forward, the swordsman, Earl Alman, who drew his sword with a ‘clang’ and pointed it toward the direction of the sound. “Who’s there?” he asked, raising his right eyebrow with a wary expression.
“Ha ha ha.”
In response, a series of lighthearted laughs echoed from not far away. Then, to Alman’s astonishment, a woman slowly emerged from an ancient oak tree—she had pointed ears and lightly waved her upper body as her long, wavy purple hair cascaded like a waterfall behind her ears.
The woman possessed light purple eyes with elongated shadows, giving her an otherworldly charm; her beautifully shaped face featured purple lips that immediately captured one’s attention. However, her lower half was entirely composed of vines and roots, thorns winding up her voluptuous form, encasing everything up to her neck and the contours of her cheeks.
She smiled faintly and pointed at Alman’s sword. “Young man, what do you expect this thing to do? Hurt me? Or protect yourself?”
Alman frowned. He aimed his sword at the woman but chose not to reply; her presence was clearly hostile, and judging by her demeanor, she was either a madwoman or had some considerable power.
The earl preferred to believe it was the latter.
Rono reacted a split second later than Alman, but upon seeing the woman, the dark-haired youth couldn’t help but blush, and after a moment of freeze, he arched his sword-like brows and sternly questioned, “Who are you? This is Erluin’s embassy, and you’d best not have any designs on us—”
The woman chuckled. “How cunning.”
As if she hadn’t noticed Alman’s sword, she calmly walked closer to the group, her vine-like lower body writhing as if it were a giant worm, which sent shivers down one’s spine.
“Rono, apprentice of Master Heiman, genius alchemist of Cruz—the title, badger; once severely injuring eleven companions and killing two during a conflict at Cruz’s Royal Arcane Academy, hiding a wild heart beneath a shy exterior.”
“And this one—Faina, the Countess of Goldleaf, the little princess of Flowerskin, the precious jewel of Grand Duke Mandeshir, and the only legal heir to the ducally throne,” the woman turned her gaze leisurely to the last two individuals, smiling as she continued, “And there’s Earl Alman, despite being a noble bastard child, still remarkable—only, who can truly see your ambitions?”
Upon hearing the words “bastard child,” Alman’s lips twitched slightly.
Finally, the woman said, “As for the last girl, she’s indeed one of Erluin’s people, but insignificant. Though, I am somewhat interested in her lord— that intriguing young man.”
“If you’re interested, you might as well seek him out,” Faina glared at the woman warily. As an aristocratic heir, she despised being openly identified by a stranger: “Shameless woman!”
She turned back. “Rono, what are you still staring at?”
The dark-haired youth reddened and turned back, looking innocently at Faina. “This isn’t the time to discuss that, Faina.”
“Hmph,” Faina huffed, grinding her teeth. “Not a single decent one!”
Of the four, only Diya, who stood at the back, remained silent, quietly preparing for a defense. As a mercenary, although this wild elven girl lacked sufficient experience, she still knew the basics.
“So,” Alman looked at the woman advancing closer, unable to hold his composure. “What exactly do you want, milady?”
He tried to use his sword as a barrier.
Unexpectedly, his words only drew a smile from the woman. She approached the earl, brushing her fingertip across the blade’s tip. “As I said, you humans call this a sword, don’t you? A sword is a weapon—can protect you, or be used to harm others—”
“Because to you, the human body is fragile, while metal is solid. The use of tools is a specialty of civilized beings.”
“Too bad, in my eyes, this thing is no different from you, fragile, because everything rots and withers; only chaos endures.”
She lifted her lashes, locking her purple gaze onto Alman. With her soft spoken words, beautiful purple roses blossomed on the blade in Alman’s hand. As the petals fell like leaves in the wind, it was as if the sword had experienced thousands of years of history, falling apart like dust in the breeze.
“Heretic!”
As the woman’s phrase ‘only chaos endures’ left her lips, the three present immediately changed expressions. But it paled in comparison to the shock they felt when Alman’s sword began to shatter piece by piece.
Decaying element.
In all of Vaunte, the existence that embodied both a heretic and the decaying element could only lead them to think of that person.
“Wither… Wither…” Faina’s complexion turned pale; she stared wide-eyed at the woman, so terrified she couldn’t speak.
Alman stepped back in response, immediately drawing his backup dagger. The moment he realized the woman’s identity, he understood there was no way to resolve this peacefully. Therefore, it was pointless to chatter; striking first was the only logic.
This time, the black-haired youth was no slower than him. Almost as soon as the woman finished speaking, over a dozen alchemical bombs were hurled towards her.
Unfortunately, the woman’s reaction was even faster. She raised her right hand, and with a ‘whoosh’, a vine net erupted from the ground, causing the alchemical bombs to collide with it and detonate prematurely, narrowly missing Rono.
The dark-haired youth rolled back, covering his face, reaching out as a series of magical devices began to rise from his body, forming a magic circle.
However, he was taken aback as these devices began to rust midway, losing their luster and falling from the air, splashing into a puddle in the forest, severing any magical connection.
At this point, Alman’s attack had just begun, though his target was not the terrifying woman, but Faina beside him.
The noble lady froze in fright as she saw Alman charging towards her but instinctively drew her sword to block. Elemental power surged from her body into her slender blade, weaving a shield of white light.
Unfortunately, this hastily prepared magical swordsmanship was clearly no match for Alman. He swung his sword to knock Faina’s weapon away and seized her by the neck, twisting behind her, pressing the blade against her throat.
The entire process happened in an instant; not only did Rono and Diya not react, but even the woman was taken aback.
However, at this moment, Alman held the sword to Faina’s snow-white neck and, taking a deep breath, calmly stated, “Your target is her, is it not? But I suppose a dead heiress holds little value for you?”
Faina was momentarily stunned, as if just realizing something. She gasped, her body trembling uncontrollably, not knowing if it was from the hopeless surroundings or the betrayal of her companion.
Yes, she suddenly thought—Earl Alman must have done this deliberately; it had to be so, he was using this method to save the others.
With this thought, the noble lady felt somewhat eased, but remembering the cold gaze of Earl Alman when he had struck her sword away made her subconsciously shiver.
Rono stared at Alman in shock, but it seemed he had also thought along the same lines as Faina, remaining silent.
However, Diya cast a spell when Faina was seized; her palm shot forth an ice dragon, the frost solidifying the air as it surged toward Alman. But he only used Faina to block it, causing the once-secure noble lady to scream, closing her eyes in terror.
Diya was startled, hurriedly retracting her spell, the ice shard shattering in mid-air and instantly turning to shimmering dust.
“You madman!” Faina screamed with her eyes shut. “Earl Alman!”
“Shut up,” Alman coldly replied. “If you want to live, speak less!”
“You…” The noble lady nearly choked, wanting to say more but felt the cold blade tightening on her neck, instilling a fear that silenced her: “That, that damned country bumpkin, sob, who will come to save me…!” Unbeknownst to her, at that moment, the first thought that came to this almost crying noble girl was such a notion.
The woman not far away cast a glance at Diya. “Oh? A water elementalist, though it seems elementals lack mental capabilities?”
Diya’s expression changed. “It’s you! You severed the psychic link between me and Brother Brendel!”
“Oh? His name is Brendel?” The woman smiled slightly. “Thank you, dear sister!”
Diya was furious, raising her hand to shoot ice arrows at the woman. Unfortunately, the ice arrow disintegrated into ice dust before it could near her.
The woman smiled slightly. “Order is also fleeting; it’s better to preserve magic in its original form.”
Then she raised her hand, and countless vines expanded toward Diya. Although the wild elven girl tried to resist, she cast only a few spells before being bound tightly.
“Woman,” Alman observed Diya being ensnared, seemingly unfazed, and then asked, “You still have not answered my question.”
“Your question?” The woman turned back, sneering. “Do you really think your little tricks can fool me?”
“You can try me,” Alman coldly challenged.
“I suggest you give it a shot.”
With resolve, Alman pressed his sword across Faina’s snow-white neck, drawing a noticeable line of blood. He lifted his gaze, staring at the woman. “What about now?”
“You’ve gone mad!” Rono shouted, but he glared at Alman, not daring to move, fearing that the madman might indeed take some drastic action.
The woman paused slightly; she initially thought Alman was attempting a ploy of self-harm but didn’t expect him to seem truly deranged.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Interesting, you wish to survive?”
Alman nodded.
“Very well,” the woman said with a smile. “I will give you a chance. Kill him and then come with me.” She looked at Rono casually.
Rono was stunned, and before he could process this, he suddenly bent forward with a muffled groan—he stared incredulously at the crossbow bolt embedded in his chest, then turned to look at Alman.
He knew this bolt was poisoned; he had prepared the poison himself, meant to deal with the forest’s magical beasts, but never imagined he would become its first test subject.
Yet, he never expected that Alman would act so decisively.
With a look of confusion, he glanced at his companion before collapsing backward.
“Rono!” Faina could hardly believe her eyes, her own turned red instantly. “You’ve gone mad, Earl Alman, what have you done?”
But Alman didn’t even look at her, merely pressed his sword against Faina’s neck then discarded the crossbow, refocusing his gaze on the woman.
The woman watched the scene with keen interest, finally applause rang out from her hands. “As expected of Earl Alman, clean and efficient; you possess the potential to join us.”
She tilted her head, watching this young imperial noble, smiling. “So, what’s your opinion?”
Alman had no doubt that if he refused, he would be immediately sent to a grave without a burial. He hesitated, but ultimately nodded.
As soon as he nodded, the tension he had held so tightly finally relaxed. He thought that no matter how terrifying this woman was, surely she wouldn’t turn on a companion. Besides, as a newcomer among the upper echelons of imperial nobles, he believed he still held some value in her eyes.
Yet these thoughts only lasted a moment before turning to dust because the instant he nodded, a vine, like a shadow, pierced his throat from behind.
A torrent of blood sprayed forth, splattering Faina’s face.
Then the noble lady felt the person behind her who had been holding her began to collapse, falling heavily to the ground.
But at that moment, she was left stupefied, frozen in fear and unable to move.
Then, with a ‘whoosh,’ she sank to her knees, unable to say a word.
Not far from her, the woman nonchalantly waved her hand, sending forth a resilient vine whip. The whip generated a gust akin to Brendel’s White Crow Swordsmanship, sweeping across the ground, barely missing Faina as it struck Earl Alman’s body, severing it in two, sending blood raining out in the distance.
The woman retracted her whip, then snatched up Earl Alman’s dagger from the ground, flinging it toward Diya. The dagger pierced through her heart; she struggled momentarily before her head drooped.
Only then did the woman smile in satisfaction, sighing, “Truly foolish, thinking I, like those weaklings from the Everything Returns Society, would be so sentimental about power in the human world.”
“Power is merely an illusion; one day, even the throne shall turn to dust.”
She glanced at Faina, smiling again. “But as for you, little girl, you still hold some value to me. Come, let me take you to make a good deal—though I prefer the term ‘deal’ when it comes to humans.”
…
(PS: It took some time to find someone for proofreading; thanks to Yan Tu and Tian Qi for their help.) (To be continued; for more updates on the story, please log in, read more chapters, and support the author by reading legally!)
