Chapter 477: Act 226 – Your Sword Will Always Shine, Erluin (Part 2)
How is this possible!
The golden swordsman of the Rendener family almost popped his own eyes out; Brendel’s previous strike was executed with every ounce of his strength, the most perfect attack possible. A normal person after such a swing would be in a state of exhaustion, commonly referred to as stiffness—yet Brendel finished that swing and almost seamlessly launched another without any noticeable retraction of his sword.
And this second strike appeared flawless as well, seeming to utilize every bit of strength once more, hardly different from the first.
It was simply defying the principles of mechanics.
It felt as if two different people had each delivered a strike—
The golden swordsman of the Rendener family was at a loss for understanding, and he didn’t have the luxury to contemplate further; if he did not raise his sword to block, he would surely bid farewell to this world. However, he could clearly envision that if he tried to intercept this attack, he would be sent crashing to the ground with a single blow.
He hadn’t even managed to regain his balance yet.
But at this moment, he could no longer afford to think about anything else. The golden swordsman of the Rendener family was at his wit’s end, raising his sword with no idea of the situation unfolding. Then with a loud bang, Brendel was sent flying, sword and all, as if he were swatting a dead fly to the ground.
The two strikes, one after the other, were completed in almost an instant. To onlookers, it appeared as if Brendel had conjured two shadows to deliver blows like a lecturer teaching a child, and it was just then that his comrades arrived.
In fact, the second swordsman who had just arrived was similarly bewildered.
Under normal circumstances, a delay of mere tenths of a second would hold no consequence. But this time, as soon as the second swordsman arrived, he realized Brendel’s third strike had already been aimed at his downed ally—almost as if the second attack had not even been retracted before the third was already on the way. The feeling was extremely awkward; if he could, this swordsman from the Rendener family wanted nothing more than to bang his head against the ground and cry out: This guy is cheating!
But he had no time for such excessive actions; he realized that if he did not act now, his comrade would truly be finished. Yet, even being of the same golden rank, to find himself completely overwhelmed by three consecutive attacks with no chance to counter was something he simply could not accept.
He immediately drew his sword.
Theoretically, with Brendel launching three consecutive attacks almost abandoning all defense to strike at his comrade, if he acted now, not only would he seize the initiative, he could also create an opportunity to save his ally.
But at that moment, the swordsman was left breathless as he saw Brendel completely disregard him and pierce the heart of the downed swordsman, whose expression seemed to question, “Do you hate me so much? Are you willing to throw away your own life?”—but at the same time, he also saw Brendel’s sword coming toward him.
A flawless attack, utilizing every ounce of strength.
“This is impossible!” The swordsman from the Rendener family nearly dropped his sword in shock, clutching his head and screaming.
Yet no matter how impossible it seemed, Brendel’s sword precisely struck his blade. What followed was a mere re-enactment of the earlier events—six attacks in total, and just like that, two golden-tier swordsmen were simply pierced to death in mere seconds on the battlefield.
In fact, even an ordinary person would not find killing a dog so effortless.
For a moment, the left flank of the battlefield was utterly silent.
Brendel withdrew his long sword from the second swordsman’s corpse, wiping it on his opponent’s clothing before looking around. To his astonishment, the noble soldiers of the Grudins began retreating like a tide, a fear that seemed contagious rapidly spreading, soon tumbling into an avalanche of panic.
Brendel advanced, and thousands of soldiers screamed in fright, the front line finally unable to endure as they discarded their weapons and turned to flee. Initially, it was just a small fraction in front of Brendel, but this quickly eroded the final shards of confidence among the Grudins, causing soldiers to scatter en masse.
A collapse centered on one person.
On the battlefield, the loyal guards of Sir Grudis and his knights still held their ground.
Brendel continued to maintain a respectful distance from them, now merely a hundred meters apart. The two sides seemed to have lost all intention of further fighting; Brendel stood amidst a ring of wolves, watching as the human knights parted ways to make room.
Behind them rode Sir Grudis in full military regalia.
In truth, Grudis understood he had lost, yet he did not surrender.
This knight, who once fled from the battlefield of Kandanal, now sat on horseback, sword in hand, commanding everyone to stay back as he prepared to duel Brendel alone.
His right hand gripped the sword, while he extended his left hand toward Brendel.
Brendel looked at him, and he understood the meaning: this was a challenge.
He nodded.
Then Sir Grudis lifted his long sword, shouting, “Erluin, your sword will always shine!”
The wolves also parted.
Brendel spurred his horse forward at a leisurely pace.
Sir Grudis charged down the slope, while Brendel moved upward from below, and as the two passed by, Brendel smoothly transitioned his sword from his right hand to his left, grasping Grudis’ sword with Bahamut’s Claw. With no flourish, he plunged his left hand sword straight into the opponent’s chest.
With a loud thud, the immense force knocked Grudis off his horse. The veteran of the November War rolled a few times, dirty and disheveled, lying on the ground with his last strength gasping up at the young man on horseback.
“The glory you’ve brought back, cough cough…” The voice from behind the mask sounded gravelly, “I accept it.”
Brendel looked down at him, saying, “Actually, I’ve come to tell you, they do not blame you. That war was not your fault.”
Sir Grudis stiffened: “How… is this possible? Cough cough, you’re not lying to me, are you?”
“You should know the oak tree back home in Dekota. He entrusted me to ask you to take care of it. That was his tree, planted by his father when he was a child.” Brendel replied softly.
“It really is him… Wuwuwu…” The knight began to weep like a child, “I let them down…”
Brendel remained silent.
The November War itself was a mistake—he knew the story of Sir Grudis came from a quest within the game. The knight was filled with regret for his mistakes, and ten years later, he would offer the same quest to all the players he respected—an infamous mission known by every player from the Southlands. The mission was called “Atonement.” Brendel felt a sense of respect for the old knight; at least he was willing to repent for his actions, and in fact, during the battle of Kandanal, he hadn’t committed any significant errors.
He was merely carrying out orders.
Sir Grudis lost consciousness amid his tears. Brendel sighed—the battlefield was drenched in the blood of the Erluins. Yet he had to take such actions to end the war in the kingdom. Perhaps only through the baptism of blood and fire could this country be reborn.
He raised his head, gazing at the few remaining knights of Grudin.
“Leave,” he said, “this is no longer your battlefield.”
But the knights shook their heads.
“We don’t know what you know, sir, but you’ve brought glory back to our lord, which is a noble deed, thank you,” one leading knight replied, “but this is where we shall die.”
The sound of swords being drawn filled the air.
Brendel shook his head, turning around as the black wolves surged forward.
…
The mountain folk fled in fear, Sir Grudis was dead, and the coalition of the Grudins fell apart. The Lord of the Grey Bears remained indecisive, failing to step forward. Madara remained silent, but it was fine; the dead were ultimately untrustworthy.
The situation on the battlefield seemed to flip in an instant. What had once been a solid advantage had disappeared along with it. A sense of desolation began to permeate the mountains and forests.
On the front lines, Parsons suddenly felt a deep fatigue wash over him. He glanced around; his surrounding knights still held firm in their desire for victory. However, the corpses of soldiers lay piled atop each other on the battlefield, broken spears and shattered armor scattered about, while tattered banners stained the sunset with a bloody hue.
In truth, they had already lost.
However, he could retreat back to Parsons, where these rebels could not keep him. As long as he was still around, he could reorganize the coalition; despite its treachery, Madara still offered some reliable support.
But…
Victory felt so close, almost within reach, clearly right before his eyes—yet why did it evaporate in an instant? Was it all just an unrealistic hope? Erluin, what has happened?
All that was familiar had long since faded away, leaving only the lingering taste of past memories. The older knights led the younger knights into battle, imparting the faith of Erluin before their expeditions, a belief that had been passed down through generations. Parsons had once been young; he still remembered the songs of those knights.
But those songs had ceased to be sung—
The decaying kingdom resembled a crumbling wall, blocking out all light. The old knight seemed to see a new light piercing through the dark wall, a fissure breaking open; how he longed to catch a glimpse of the hope beyond that wall—but before that moment, he was destined to be crushed beneath the collapsing ruins.
After news spread from both battlefields, he lost any control over the army. Most of the foreign soldiers had fled, and the local lords retreated with their forces to the rear. Parsons didn’t wish to mock these cowards; it was pointless.
He led his three thousand soldiers, belonging to Parsons, onward; the mask of the old knight was stained with the blood of the sunset. Now he was going to put an end to this war once and for all.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)
