Chapter 402: Scene 156 – Hostage?
Brendel’s mind raced; in fact, he had plenty of items to prove his identity, but the only truly convincing ones were the White Crow Sword Technique and the brooch the princess had given him.
The White Crow Sword Technique was a secret swordsmanship from Erluin’s court, and anyone with discerning eyes would suspect a connection to the Erluin royal family. Moreover, the White Crow Sword Technique originated from the Holy Sword Technique of the Queen of Wind, making it unrelated to Cruz.
The brooch, on the other hand, was the emblem of the Erluin Royal Knights. Even if a Cruzian managed to obtain it, they would never use it to disguise themselves. Such a humiliation was something even a weakened Erluin would not endure. As the saying goes, a cornered rabbit would fight back; while Cruz might not fear Erluin’s power, they would never want to be dragged into an unwarranted war.
Thus, it could be said that high-ranking Cruzian nobles with a certain status would scoff at the idea of masquerading as an Erluin person, and other Cruz people would need to contemplate the consequences of such actions if they chose to do so.
Although Cruz would protect their own, they would not carelessly involve themselves in a war over someone of no importance.
Therefore, both the White Crow Sword Technique and the emblem of the Royal Knights served as the strongest evidence proving he was from Erluin. However, choosing one over the other required consideration. After a moment’s hesitation, Brendel decided to use the White Crow Sword Technique to prove himself.
After all, the brooch was a secret agreement between him and the Regent Princess. From past history and the princess’s letter, Brendel could guess that the noble supporters of the Corvado royal family were not all united. While there were loyal subjects like Overwell and Sir Begninen, there were also wishy-washy moderates like Livwz and Makarolo, not to mention that those under Duke of Lantonrand had their own calculations.
It was easy to imagine that not everyone among them hoped for the princess to reach out to him, and some might even try their utmost to obstruct her. Although Brendel was unaware that he had almost grasped the situation, he had a sense of awareness—he could imagine the princess overcoming immense pressure to secretly give him the brooch, conveying her trust in him.
This seemingly trivial support offered no practical help, yet it gave Brendel a profound sense of being trusted, trusted by the historical Regent Princess. As a modern individual, he could not feel that kind of devotion a knight would have in swearing loyalty to a king, but there was still a faint sense of satisfaction in his heart.
Brendel did not understand what this feeling was.
However, he understood that if he misused this trust carelessly, it would likely put the princess thousands of miles away in a difficult position.
While this could be said to have nothing to do with him, Brendel subconsciously chose to avoid that option.
“Mr. Mephistopheles,” Brendel took a deep breath, dispelling the sense of confusion from earlier. He became serious: “I think you have mistaken something.”
“Oh, you know me?” the Gray Saint let out a slight hum, coldly looking at Brendel: “But there’s no point in saying more. Where is Veronika?”
Brendel was taken aback; this guy was actually here to cause trouble for Veronika. It seemed he had unknowingly learned about Veronika leading a team away from Cruz on her own and had come after her relentlessly.
Brendel was secretly alarmed; Mephistopheles had only caught up to Veronika here. He had no idea how much effort it had taken him to do so. From Cruz to Erluin, there were at least ten sea and land routes. Once they entered the Black Forest, it was nearly impossible to track, which showed how much he must loathe Cruz to go to such lengths.
What bewildered Brendel, however, was where he was supposed to find Veronika now. After all, he had lost the noble duke’s daughter and a genius alchemist, along with an imperial viscount.
He was barely escaping danger, and now this? Wasn’t this courting death?
Brendel’s surprise did not escape the eyes of the Gray Saint Mephistopheles. While he held resentment toward the Cruz people, he understood that most of them, especially the nobles, were very proud and tough, rarely retreating in the face of threats.
When he single-handedly faced a large army in Cruz back in the day, most of the young officer cadets who died on his hands had known they would not win, yet not one of them turned their back on him.
That battle left a deep impression on Mephistopheles.
Thus, when he saw Brendel today, he had no intention of letting him speak. The Gray Saint coldly snorted: “Not willing to talk, huh? Then come with me. I believe Veronika won’t allow such a promising young genius of the empire to just go.”
Although he hadn’t seen Brendel’s swordsmanship, the young man’s command level displayed when he fought the Winter Wolf was sufficient to be called a genius.
“Wait—!” Brendel saw the Gray Saint suddenly lift his giant sword without a word, the gray cloak billowing. An invisible pressure surged forth, intent on attacking directly, causing his scalp to tingle and his eyes to narrow as he hurriedly slid back like a ghost.
Mephistopheles’s intention in raising the sword was to cut off Brendel’s escape route and capture him effortlessly among these people, but he had not anticipated how quickly Brendel would retreat, as if he had already predicted his next move.
At that moment, Brendel was also cursing internally; just as the opponent moved, his ‘In-depth Analysis’ skill had failed to react—this could only mean one thing in the game: the opponent’s swordsmanship was too high-leveled, surpassing the limits of the current ‘In-depth Analysis’ skill.
Yet, it should be noted that ‘In-depth Analysis’ had worked to some extent even when he sparred with Veronika. Although that Cruzian lady knight had not fought at full strength, their relative levels were still discernible.
In truth, Brendel was very aware that in terms of sheer power, the Gray Saint might still be slightly inferior to the Azure Sword Saint Veronika. However, in actual combat, Veronika might not necessarily be a match for this Gray Saint.
Veronika’s swordsmanship had reached an extraordinary level, one of the best among the elite sword saints. However, the Gray Saint Mephistopheles had already become an almost non-human existence in the players’ minds. If he were to have a title, it would be that of a Sword God.
Brendel’s ability to dodge this attack was purely based on the fact that he had researched this Sword Saint’s attack patterns multiple times to complete the task for the Black Iron Body. Coupled with his experience and cleverness, he could avoid the opponent’s strike just in time, gambling that the opponent would not be strictly on guard since he intended to capture him.
Otherwise, if Mephistopheles were determined to strike down without hesitation, not only his swordsmanship but even the sword energy at his level would have sliced Brendel in half.
However, even so, Brendel could barely evade this first strike. Afterward, he would be unable to escape the second strike of the Gray Saint.
Just as he understood what the opponent would do next, he felt powerless due to the vast difference in their abilities. Even knowing how the opponent would swing their sword, he could only watch as defeat approached.
As he retreated, he looked up and indeed saw Mephistopheles’s face remain unchanged; after slightly pausing, he swiftly swept his sword to the right—”Whoosh,” a crescent-shaped white sword energy shot out, but strangely enough, this sword energy traced a perfect arc along the ground before curving back towards Brendel, as if it had a mind of its own.
Secret Sword? Dragon Strike—countless players had succumbed to this sword in past games, and Brendel was no exception. The technique of the sword energy turning was something he had never even grasped, not even when he had reached level 130 as a warrior. Not to mention mastering it, he had never even heard of anyone else besides the Gray Saint who possessed this skill out of the twenty secret sword techniques.
Seeing the Gray Saint unleash such a powerful move right off the bat left Brendel feeling helpless. There was no way he could simply charge forward—at least Brendel felt he had not yet reached the point of being bored enough to sacrifice himself heroically—he could only come to a halt, but this halt had already predetermined the outcome.
Mephistopheles seemed to have anticipated Brendel’s choice; he pulled back his giant sword and lunged forward, driving both sword and body toward Brendel.
This strike forced the second “Wait!” from Brendel to retreat into his gut, and the young lord faced this blazingly sharp blow with an overwhelming sensation of suffocation that there was simply no way to evade.
This was precisely what Mephistopheles had planned; in his view, Brendel could only meet the attack with his sword, and in a battle between the weak and the strong, trading blows was the least advisable. If the last was merely suppression, then this next strike would be the key to victory.
Brendel certainly understood this, but he had no choice; he anxiously turned his thoughts to find a way to avert the worst-case scenario.
At that moment, a voice he was exceedingly familiar with suddenly sighed: “Huh?”
It was the voice of the Lady Knight. The pressure emanating from the Gray Saint had awakened her from sleep, and upon waking, she immediately noticed Brendel was in a very dangerous position.
“An unfamiliar swordsmanship, but this guy is strong,” Otales lazily stretched, “looking” at Mephistopheles’s thrust—thanks to the rapid exchange of thoughts, she could casually ask, “Little guy, how is it that you keep getting into trouble?”
Brendel felt helpless and thought this was trouble he had brought upon himself? This was clearly trouble that had come knocking; moreover, this Gray Saint was not only absent-minded but also stubborn, initiating an attack without even giving him a chance to speak.
Was there any sense of justice left in this world?
However, at that moment, he had no time to focus on the teasing from this senior sister; the giant sword was about to pierce his chest. Brendel had no choice but to raise the Sword of Earth to defend himself.
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