Chapter 490: Act 238 – BOSS?
Through the hall filled with cobwebs and dust, the tomb was located at the very end of this underground city, generally considered the resting place of a boss-level monster. As Brendel entered the tomb, he instinctively felt something was off. The tomb was small, only a few dozen steps on each side, and overall square-shaped, with a massive stone sarcophagus quietly resting on a raised stone platform in the center of the room. The architectural style of the tomb was consistent with the surrounding burial paths, but the atmosphere inside was undeniably oppressive.
In the dim light fluttering around, an evil aura seemed to linger in the cramped space. The air was chilled to the bone, even the flames of the torches were forcibly pressed down a notch.
This was the aura of a boss-level monster, but it was much stronger than Brendel had anticipated. This was not the kind of presence a thirty-level boss should exhibit. However, as Brendel scanned the room, he did not see the boss anywhere. He could only guess that it must be inside the stone sarcophagus. He drew the Earth Sword and held it horizontally to block the others behind him, signaling them not to act rashly. Then he turned and asked, “Where are those cards?”
“Over there, my Lord,” a wizard apprentice immediately pointed to the other side of the sarcophagus. Brendel noticed a skeletal remains lying in the shadows. Because the tomb was filled with such burial remains, he hadn’t noticed this detail before. Now that someone had indicated it, he immediately recognized the differences—the sacrificial offerings buried in the tomb should mostly be slaves, wearing little to no fine clothing, and whatever little they had would mostly have carbonized into dust with time. But this skeleton was wearing a complete robe, and beside it lay a staff. Brendel recognized it at a glance as belonging to a wizard; very few aside from wizards would use such precious materials as dark wood to craft a staff.
Scattered around the wizard’s remains were several shiny cards—five in total—which were destiny cards.
It was not surprising for a wizard to carry destiny cards. In fact, this wasn’t the first time Brendel had found such cards among the remains of spellcasters. Wizards were inherently curious and exploratory about all mysterious aspects of the world, often collecting strange little trinkets, even those they couldn’t recognize themselves. Many had died because of it; Brendel had heard stories of people cursed for having collected idols of dark gods. So, it was not difficult to understand why wizards would collect mysterious little cards.
“Can you use any spells to retrieve them?” Brendel asked, his instincts telling him that this tomb was somewhat dangerous. There were many types of boss-level monsters; some were very tricky and knew how to set traps. While the outer area was just filled with burial ghasts, there was no guarantee that the owner of this tomb wasn’t a high-level death spirit or something similar. He did not want to enter the creature’s main battlefield.
The key issue was that this tomb gave him an indescribable feeling. He had faced grave dangers before, like ‘wolf disasters’, yet he had never felt as tense as he did now. The danger in the air seemed to condense into needles, stabbing at his heart. He had gone through hundreds of underground cities, and his senses for crisis were very sharp. He instinctively felt that this tomb was peculiar.
From the entrance, it should be a thirty-level enhanced dungeon. Theoretically, the boss should be a leading monster within the golden tier. However, no one could guarantee nothing would go wrong; no one could promise they wouldn’t make a mistake. Especially after venturing deeper into the tomb, Brendel discovered its history was unbelievably ancient. If this tomb existed before Erluin and the Silver Elves’ reign, it had at least withstood a millennium.
Things like tombs and dungeons grew stranger and more bizarre the longer their history. The Amber Sword reflected this with a real sense, compelling Brendel to proceed with caution. He trusted his judgment and experience.
The apprentices all shook their heads.
“We tried, my Lord,” someone mustered the courage to inform him, “but the sarcophagus seems to possess some power that can dispel our magic. As soon as our spells approach it, they simply vanish.”
“Vanished?” Brendel queried. “Did they backfire?”
“No, we didn’t feel our spells being dismantled. Rather, it felt like… they were cut off from the connection,” an apprentice replied.
Blocking mental energy must involve psychic ability. Brendel quickly concluded that the most well-known psychic spells were telekinesis; next were divine words and witchcraft, which also involved psychic elements. In the Amber Sword, spirits were famous for using psychic abilities to create illusions; they distorted a person’s mind, amplifying fear a hundredfold—when you felt their icy fingers pierce your chest, you had already turned into solid ice—not from the cold, but because your heart had fallen into darkness.
Thus, it was very likely that the one inside the sarcophagus was a ghostly lord. Brendel thought for a moment and took out the white deer statue from his pocket. Everyone saw a white deer, glowing with radiance, appear in the tomb. The accompanying mercenaries were initially startled, but relaxed when they realized it was their lord’s summoning. However, the looks cast towards Brendel now held an inexplicable awe.
In Erluin’s legends, the white deer was a holy spirit. Those blessed by the white deer often became legendary heroes; such sayings had high marketability among the mountaineers in the South because occasional sightings of a white stag in the forest were documented.
After appearing, the white deer actually took a slight step back, nervously pawing at the ground. This behavior caused Brendel to frown. The holy spirit white deer was the nemesis of all evil beings. For it to feel uneasy about the boss-level monster inside the sarcophagus made Brendel alert. Every detail indicated that his initial intuition had not been wrong—this tomb surely had something strange.
He could not help but exchange glances with Charles. When dismantling the seals outside earlier, both of them had sensed something was amiss.
“Should… we go retrieve those things, my Lord?” one of the wizard apprentices asked timidly while observing Brendel’s expression.
It was apparent to anyone that something might be amiss within this tomb, and who could predict what dangers lay ahead? Adventuring in underground tombs was intrinsically perilous, with terrifying evil beings and deadly curses having claimed the lives of countless adventurers. Yet, Brendel currently held significant authority in Cold Fir Territory; if he issued an order, the wizards and adventurers present would likely trust him blindly.
However, Brendel shook his head. Even though he was now a lord and nominally an excellent noble in the eyes of that princess in the North, if Antinna were here, she would surely remind him that risking oneself is not characteristic of a good ruler. But fundamentally, he was still that simple-minded player and a humble young man from Bruglas. No matter the excuse, sending someone to die in traps was something even a normal player would hesitate to do against a wise and intelligent NPC.
Furthermore, it was clear that if retrieving the loot were that easy, the stone sarcophagus wouldn’t be there. It seemed they would have only a chance of obtaining the “treasure” here by slaying the boss within the sarcophagus. This was a fundamental setup in games; though Vaunte was no longer a game, it was still rooted in the Amber Sword, and until now, Brendel hadn’t seen many deviations from the original world.
“Everyone step back; this is not a fight you can interfere in.” He turned and pointed his sword at the others, commanding them. At the same time, he signaled to Charles to approach from either side. He decided to first open the sarcophagus and see what kind of monster it was.
But this command left everyone in shock. They had never seen their lord take the lead into danger first. Of course, most felt it was unusual; Brendel’s actions were incredibly out of step with the world’s traditional views, to put it bluntly, it seemed uncharacteristic of a lord or noble. Yet no one dared to speak out of turn; instead, there was only silence, as each person understood the benevolence contained within that command.
Though everyone understood that in the struggle among nobles, only those with hearts of iron could rise to power, in reality, no one wanted to follow someone who was cold and unfeeling towards those around them.
The young mage Lelian couldn’t help but hold his breath at the scene. He came from a noble family, and in his impression, his father was a minor noble obsessed with connections and networking. He had seen those deep in thought, unyielding noble figures, and what he knew of Brendel was entirely contrary to every image of a noble he had encountered.
In fact, the mercenaries around him, even the wizards, had no doubt that Brendel was a genuine noble—a noble because that gentleman was knowledgeable and seemingly understood everything. Only nobles could have such rich family heritage. But to Lelian, it did not seem so; with his keen sense, it was easy to discover those aspects of his lord that seemed out of place with nobility. Thus, he once doubted that Brendel was a noble—though this suspicion could not explain Brendel’s knowledge or the calm confidence he exuded, nor would it sway his loyalty to the lord, but it often left him perplexed.
But only now was he convinced.
From the moment Brendel turned back and pointed his sword at them to issue an order, he noticed the glow of true nobility shining from that sword. It was not the noble air that currently belonged to the nobles of Erluin; it was the demeanor of the ancient aristocracy, where rulers and nobles led their people, raising banners and guiding ancestors through darkness, forging paths leading to order and light.
In the darkness, what flowed was the blood of nobles.
That was the path of the ancient sages.
Lelian watched Brendel and Charles standing firm and couldn’t help but step forward instinctively. However, at this moment, Brendel and Charles had already placed their hands on the sarcophagus. It was at this moment that the temperature in the tomb suddenly plummeted, and everyone felt a layer of frost visibly spreading across the walls of the tomb, thickening into a deep layer of white snow in the blink of an eye.
In moments, everyone began to tremble with fear.
“What the hell is this!”
Brendel’s strange exclamation shattered the grand image Lelian had just formed in his mind, and the noble demeanor immediately dissipated, turning back into that overly dramatic lord—of course, Lelian did not understand that this was called a player, and he would never know. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations or monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
