Chapter 575: Act 322 – The Battle of Saintly White VI
The long street was silent and desolate, and among the crowd, Brendel seemed lost in the memories of a distant history.
The name Sword Saint Darus was both unfamiliar and familiar to him. Since the Second Revival, this name once belonged to one of the three heavyweights supporting the Erlandta Kingdom, and his active era was a century ago, during which the Amber Sword served only as a backdrop for players.
Historically, as the kingdom lost its vigor, it was said that the ancient Rekeis departed and Turiman returned to the Mithril Fortress, and the Sword Saint retreated into seclusion. Some say he is still alive today, while others claim he is dead, but in Brendel’s own memory, he still recalls the moment when his grandfather held his hand on his deathbed.
That was merely a withered old man, though his eyes still burned with an unyielding fire far beyond the ordinary, he had ultimately reached the end of his life; and in another fragment of memory belonging to him, Sophie, and Brendel, there was a vision of an old soldier from the November War holding a long sword, nodding and smiling amidst the dream of the Golden Tree.
This was a world shaped by Brendel’s memories, where everything was bound to occur without deviation. He could even distinctly feel that expectation, only to understand today that the old man had entrusted something more than just an elder’s hope onto Brendel’s shoulders.
Yet in the real history, Brendel himself may have perished in Buche’s old residence at that time.
If that was the case, then why did he not reveal the secret of the Wind Queen’s ring to Brendel back then? What was the Sword Saint hiding at the end of his life?
“My grandfather was the Grand Marshal of the coalition of the Temple of Fire during the last Holy War?” After a while, Brendel suddenly raised his head and asked.
“Ah, I thought you would be more surprised about the old man’s identity as the Sword Saint,” Charles was momentarily startled, “Indeed, the old man served as the Grand Marshal of the Fire Temple Coalition.”
No, this could not be true. In Brendel’s memory, in another world’s history, Sword Saint Darus had never held the position of Grand Marshal of the Temple of Fire Coalition. Either history was lying, or Charles was lying. Brendel looked at Charles and Princess Grifian, who also looked at him, but her silver eyes held a sense of affirmation.
Sword Saint Darus was also a royalist, not merely a member of the New Royalist faction; he was truly part of the royal faction. But why did he choose to leave the center of power, abandoning the declining Corvado royal family?
The glances from Charles and the princess indicated that they were not lying—unless they were clever enough to fabricate their stories. However, the princess was only sixteen this year.
“But history has never recorded this.” Brendel feigned doubt.
“Because the Temple of Fire has always kept its Holy War records confidential,” Charles replied.
Lies. Brendel ruthlessly exposed Charles’s prevarication. Regardless of how records of past Holy Wars were kept secret, whispers would still circulate; let alone a position as significant as the Grand Marshal of the coalition, it was impossible for the upper echelons of Erlandta to have forgotten all about it.
Moreover, in another history, in order to investigate the cause of the princess’s death, Brendel had the fortune of ‘reviewing’ the temple’s secret documents about the history of the November War, in which Sword Saint Darus was completely absent. Unless history altered, or all materials related to Sword Saint Darus had been edited or sealed.
There was something hidden.
A part of Brendel’s soul belonging to the game suddenly awakened, and the memories in his mind burst into life in an instant, flowing like a river of language and text, emerging from the depths of his thoughts.
The year when Sword Saint Darus went into seclusion, 325 in the First Era, a number like a lightning bolt struck his mind.
That time point…
Year of Celestial Conjunction, 17th Day of Coldflower Month. Count Atania led the White Lion Infantry Corps westward into the Hagan region, providing support against the Crusian army on their flank, launching an attack on the Toquinin Lionmen’s Black Tooth Tribe.
The Hallowed Temple of Earth began to fall apart after this incident, and subsequently, the four major temples established reconciliation agreements over the next four years; four years after the Year of Celestial Conjunction, the Holy War came to an end.
Brendel clearly remembered that the Year of Celestial Conjunction was 321 in the First Era. The two time points overlapped, which made things interesting; there was indeed an issue.
He could not help but close his eyes as the shimmering river of time appeared before him:
The Long River Campaign.
The bloody Golden Tingis.
The Temple of Fire’s eastward advance.
The assault on the Clover Field.
Then came the beginning of a long and brutal November War, a day in which the Holy War had never been so bloody. Brendel suddenly realized what made this war so cruel. Those veterans who had endured years of war were quickly depleted in a war lasting less than a year…
Surrounding…
A series of seesaw battles along the Alkas Mountain Range.
The recorded history was…
The four temples simultaneously entered the region, resulting in a protracted, hellish meat grinder battle, a meat grinder battle lasting a year. It was as if the blood of every vassal state and kingdom under the four major temples, like Erlandta, was drained dry.
The shadows of that war continued to this day; Erlandta lost an entire generation, even two, of young people.
Brendel felt a surge of horror: history was so strikingly similar. A hundred years later, another war broke out, with the Knights’ Order of Greyshus, Fanzan, Erlandta, the Temple of Wind, and Madara again entering this region.
It was another brutal contest.
He still remembered the overwhelming Undead Army; everything seemed to fall into darkness.
Yet the Alkas Pass did not seem to have such an important strategic position; why did the major temples repeatedly wage war here? The Alkas Mountain was traditionally regarded as Fanzan’s territory, but in later generations, the Crusian people, wind elves, and Madara’s Undead Army also stationed here.
Brendel’s heart raced; he realized he might have grasped the crux. He clearly remembered that after the November War ended, the Holy War essentially concluded as well. His grandfather had retreated around this time, as if a unique sensitivity belonging to players told him that if there were any issues with this storyline, it must lie within the November War.
That fierce war, which remained in the memories of all veterans. Brendel also recalled a detail: in that war, the temple awarded precious Candlelight Medals to many veterans who had performed outstandingly.
This was unprecedented.
He opened his eyes, his gaze shimmering with a captivating light.
“Are you all right, Mister Brendel?” Princess Grifian asked.
“Why tell me now?” Brendel shook his head and inquired.
“I’m sorry,” Charles sighed, “If I could avoid saying it, I would prefer to keep this secret forever. The best wish was to silently protect you, as the heir of Marshal Darus.”
Brendel looked at him, as if trying to see through the man. Yet Charles was still the same Charles, dressed in the robes of a great mage, always wearing a confident smile.
Charles returned the smile.
“This crafty fellow,” Brendel thought to himself, “Let me change the question: why did my grandfather ultimately go into seclusion in Bruglas? You know, I didn’t even know he was a Highland Knight, did my father not have a clue, either?”
“No, your father should know some of the inside information, Brendel,” the princess replied, “Actually, I don’t know much, but I at least know that when Lord Darus left the army, your father had already grown up; he had even gotten engaged, according to the traditions of the Highland Knights—his fiancée was also a noble from Cardelego.”
“That was my mother, but my grandfather never educated me about noble traditions; until I grew to a certain age, I never thought—or knew—what connection there was between the Cardelego people and the Highland Knights,” Brendel answered.
“Ah, Lord Darus must have been so… Did he teach you swordsmanship?” Princess Grifian asked with slight surprise.
“My grandfather taught me some swordsmanship, but it was just the basics of military swordplay,” Brendel replied.
“Ah…” The half-elf princess was genuinely surprised this time; she couldn’t help but lift her long lashes curiously to look at Brendel, “Mister Brendel, your swordsmanship…”
“That’s a different story,” Brendel answered, “Including the knowledge I possess now, it actually comes from my experience of being mentored by a wizard in another life.”
Brendel thought he wasn’t lying; his swordsmanship indeed had another origin, shaped by players from Sword Saint Darus’s military swordplay. He had also been mentored by a wizard, but that was during his past life in the game.
“That must have been quite an intriguing journey,” Princess Grifian admired.
“Yes, quite intricate…” Brendel sighed differently, but the meaning was vastly different from what the princess imagined. At the very least, he had never heard of, much less personally experienced, stories like that since fleeing from Buche, when the two worlds intersected in his life.
“So, what is going on here?” After a sigh, Brendel continued to ask, putting on an eager façade to know the answer, although he already had an inkling in his heart; he just needed confirmation, “I believe there must be secrets involved.”
“My lord, I have promised to keep the secret,” Charles replied, “The past is meaningless; we just need to know that fate still favors certain people. Your appearing here today proves that the old man was right—”
No, perhaps only Brendel among those present understood that this was not the unfolding of fate, for history had long since changed—only he knew the true future—and his presence here just verified that much of what was fixed had already become turbulent.
For Brendel should have died in Buche, and Erlandta should have followed the course predetermined by history.
However, fate had handed the present to Alice while entrusting history and the future to the blind goddess Yilian; the present was linked by invisible threads, and these threads were causality. The history and future revealed infinite unknowns and possibilities upon the cards.
It was precisely because of this infinite potential future that mortals could master their destinies.
Brendel firmly believed this, but where exactly lay the problem? There must be another thread—a thread on which Brendel neither died nor traversed—what scenery existed within the world? What was the mission entrusted to him?
“What a useless fool,” Brendel couldn’t help but curse under his breath; the scion of the Sword Saint had died at the hands of a mere skeleton. This was perhaps the biggest black comedy in Erlandta’s history, yet it had been completely buried in the game, leaving no trace behind.
But no matter; at least he had pieced together part of the answer. Brendel glanced at Charles and asked, “If I’m not mistaken, in the eleventh month of the Year of Celestial Conjunction, the coalition of the Temple of Fire—the Erlandta Kingdom army must have been ambushed by their allies from behind in the Alkas Mountain Range, right?”
“Let me take a guess: but what the Temple of Fire did not expect was that Sword Saint Darus was so formidable, carving a bloody path through the Erlandta army.”
“Am I right?”
His voice was not loud, but it was clear and powerful, each word resounding. Brendel appeared composed while the princess bit her lip, and Charles looked as if he had seen a ghost; they were all stunned by such rebellious words.
Only then did Brendel suddenly laugh, but in that moment, the light in his eyes appeared so wise and confident to the others.
“Ha…”
Brendel nearly let out a loud laugh: “So, that’s how it was! So, the undead army from Madara that attacked us from behind back then came this way. Those bastards from Thornfire, haha, I really misjudged you back then…”
“The Temple of Fire, the Sanctuary of Light, truly commendable.”
“Too bad…”
“It turns out I’m a player, and to boot, a traveling player.”
This was quite a surprise, Brendel gritted his teeth and smiled.
(PS: Outbreak starts the day after tomorrow, asking everyone for votes~)(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast recommendation votes and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
