Chapter 591: Act 336 – The Battle of Saintly White
A purple-black sky crackled with lightning, the clouds boiling like porridge, and suddenly a red dot appeared in the center, spreading out a circular ripple as if a falling rock had splashed into water, the red circle expanding outward to a half-mile diameter.
There was a faint buzzing sound.
“Brendel, what is this…?” Otales’s voice was cautious.
“I know,” Brendel replied, expressionless, as he watched the scene unfold.
Finally, the soldiers on the princess’s side within the forest noticed the anomaly above them. They stiffly raised their heads, staring at the enormous phantom slowly emerging beneath the red circle.
It was a warship—
A massive ship with four decks of cannons and a stern soaring like a tower was transitioning from phantom to reality. Beside it, three smaller red circles successively unfurled, revealing three small escort ships emerging from the storm.
Next, twelve red dots blinked in the air, knights garbed in gold and red holding flame-shaped longswords formed a ring outside the fleet.
“It’s the Temple of Fire!”
“The fleet of the Temple of Fire!”
The sudden appearance of the unfamiliar army finally impacted the entire battlefield, even Adgar could not help but lift his massive head to gaze at the unexpected arrivals in the sky, followed by the Northern Allied forces laying down their weapons, looking up.
More red dots flickered amidst the storm, resembling dancing red butterflies. With each flash of red light, a heavily armored knight appeared riding on a silver winged horse.
Then, a much larger spread of red dots unfolded across the miles of the sky, flooding it with red light, and a throng of monks appeared overhead—each monk was adorned with flaming wings, resembling golden angels.
The battlefield momentarily fell silent.
“Golden Flame Goddess figurehead, thirteen sails of wind, four decks, 110 cannons,” Brendel shook his head lightly, watching this scene unfold before him.
Ash-class battleship, the Pelan.
Knights of the Temple.
Armed forces of the Temple of Fire, ‘Staff of Fire.’
…
Thirteen azure sails unfurled in the downpour, forming a mound of blue clouds—the massive ship above was slowly turning, the bare goddess figurehead shining in the storm—it was the figurehead of the Golden Flame Goddess.
The four warships sequentially rotated their hulls, aligning one side toward the storm element, Adgar.
Adgar had been dormant for nearly a thousand years and had never encountered such a thing before. But at this moment, it keenly sensed a looming danger.
Commands from the Crusian echoed through the wind.
“Wizards, get into position!”
“Open the gun ports!”
In an instant, the four warships jolted violently, one side of their hulls suddenly spouting angry flames. “Ah—!” Before anyone could react, the ‘Wrathful One,’ Adgar, let out a scream that echoed through the heavens.
A brilliant explosion suddenly erupted in the night sky.
The Crusian unleashed all their firepower upon the massive creature. Although the old-fashioned enchanted cannons designed by the Hazell lacked the power to pose a genuine threat to the storm element, the intense pain still made the ‘Wrathful One’ Adgar instinctively raise its head.
It was in that very moment.
Eleven knights of the Temple simultaneously raised their swords, stabbing toward Adgar’s ‘throat’—eleven beams of golden light darted from the blades of their flame-shaped swords, piercing through Adgar entirely and binding the creature to the ground like eleven golden threads.
Compared to the overwhelming firepower from the four warships earlier, this was the fatal blow for Adgar. Eleven elite elementals were not something it would dare try to withstand normally, let alone a critical hit.
Adgar emitted a ghastly wail, lightning crackling through its body, shining with an incredible brightness as if it were about to burst apart; but the creature was a formidable boss among the early versions of the Amber Sword, and despite being grievously injured, it did not die instantly. Instead, it was provoked into fury, retaliating with a colossal backhand swipe directed towards the sky.
The storm element was massive, and that single sweep nearly covered half the battlefield. The eleven knights of the Temple dared not confront it directly, hurriedly scattering, while the three escort ships behind them faced disaster.
One ship was struck directly by Adgar’s swipe, its blue protective shield barely flickering to life before a blinding white light erupted, then it shattered, being sent flying from the air into the distant hills by Adgar’s hand.
Approximately a few seconds later, a bright fireball erupted in that direction.
But it was precisely at that moment.
The thick clouds in the sky suddenly stirred slightly, gathering in a swirling vortex toward a point, and at the center, a golden-red light flared—then with a thunderous ‘bang’, a fire-red pillar descended from the heavens. It pierced through the ‘Wrathful One’ Adgar’s head in an instant, nailing it to the ground.
The storm at the center of the battlefield abruptly froze.
In the rain and wind, a faint sigh could be heard. Then in the blink of an eye, countless bolts of lightning spread from Adgar’s body, tearing it to shreds and dissipating into the storm as mist.
Then everyone on the battlefield finally saw a tall knight in a long cloak draw his sword from amidst a flash of lightning.
It was the deputy commander of the Knights of the Temple, Williams, wielding the Sword of Golden Flame.
The Northern Allied forces erupted into cheers.
Resounding throughout the land.
…
Deputy Commander Williams calmly gazed at the swarm of ants on the ground, his expression devoid of unnecessary emotion, only golden lines of law swirling around the outside of his long cloak, his eyes turned into a golden hue.
He held his sword, looking down, and the drizzling rain barely came within three feet of him before dissipating into white smoke, merging back into the surrounding rain.
He said nothing.
Soon the ground fell silent; after the storm element Adgar dispersed, only the remnants of the explosion remained on the ground, and the small wind elements fled in all directions—no one thought to try to save them.
Williams quickly spotted the silver-clad young girl in the forest.
At that moment, Princess Grifian also saw him. The maiden stood amidst the rain, her face pale, her silver eyes reflecting a hint of rain, but inside was a brightness more intense than ever before, as if it burned with a raging flame.
At that moment, Williams felt a fleeting illusion, as though he could see those once-bright eyes again. But he shook his head, smiling self-deprecatingly.
“Little princess, I give you a chance. Bring your subordinates out to surrender, and I can spare your life,” Williams said softly, but his voice seemed to resonate throughout the battlefield, clear to every soldier present.
“How can you do this?!” Princess Grifian clenched her fists tightly, grinding her teeth: “You swore before the sacred covenant. What did that oath say? You said you would treat every country beneath the Temple fairly, but today all I see is the Temple of Fire belonging to the Crusians…”
“If one day the Temple of Fire betrays everyone, do you not fear being betrayed by everyone in return?”
Brendel observed her hands trembling slightly.
Williams remained silent, too lazy even to find an excuse. He replied indifferently: “Is that your answer, Your Highness? What a pity that no matter what you say, it cannot change the fate of your side’s defeat today.”
“Because this is the will of the Temple.”
Princess Grifian stiffened as if struck by lightning, her silver eyes filled with sorrow and fury.
Williams glanced at her, disdainfully shaking his head: “Your Highness, surrender or let them accompany you to the grave.”
“You only have half a minute to decide.”
His voice reverberated across the mountains and fields.
…
Gray Saint Mephistopheles hefted his longsword and suddenly stopped, looking up as a golden-red doorway opened not far ahead, and an elderly man wearing a high priest’s robe stepped through.
Then nine more light portals opened around him, and nine knights of the Temple walked out in succession.
The circle of people surrounded him.
Mephistopheles found it somewhat amusing: “Just took out one high priest, and another appears. The high-ranking clergy of the Temple of Fire really do seem more numerous than dogs.”
This blatant mockery did not anger Wood; the old man instead smiled slightly: “You don’t need to flaunt your brilliant deed of defeating Merros in front of me, but with your leisurely pace, aren’t you afraid that little one may be wiped out by Williams?”
Mephistopheles shot him a glare: “If I said I was worried, would you let me pass?”
“Sorry, I wouldn’t.”
“Well then.”
The two suddenly halted, exchanging glances and then smiled at the same time.
“Thank you for sparing my life back in Cruz, but I’m not the same anymore; killing you is not impossible, Wood,” the Gray Saint suddenly said.
“So, are you really planning to make a move?” Wood asked.
“Not necessarily. You have your ideals to achieve, and I have my homeland to reclaim. As long as you don’t stand in my way, I won’t make a move against you. Besides, you understand this, otherwise why bring so many people with you if you intended to hand me my head?”
Mephistopheles glanced at the knights of the Temple, speaking as if he didn’t care: “Besides, dealing with just you would be somewhat challenging; adding all these dogs makes it rather troublesome.”
The knights of the Temple glared at him in response, but not one dared to make a move, whether out of orders or fear of his strength was unclear.
“So, it’s better to pause and enjoy the scenery, then you go your way, and I’ll go mine. It’s not a new occurrence that you can’t catch me; I believe the Temple won’t trouble you over this either,” Mephistopheles mocked: “They’ve already lost a high priest, I doubt they want to lose a second.”
Wood shook his head, looking towards the cliff direction. The distant sea was churning with dark clouds, and in the storm, the waves formed a white line, crashing against the rocks and instantly bursting into countless splashes.
“Although I don’t know your relationship with him, it seems you’re really not worried about that little one.”
“No, I initially didn’t believe it, but your appearance here confirms it,” Mephistopheles shook his head, smiling: “I’m here, and his goal is achieved, you understand?”
“Oh?” Wood paused slightly, “He knew I was behind him all along? Did Turiman tell him that?”
“No, no,” the Gray Saint smiled widely: “He just guessed from the very beginning that the Temple of Fire was involved, and not because of you, but because of Merros.”
Wood frowned, looking at the guy with suspicion. For certain special reasons, he had once spared this person’s life in Cruz, but he also understood that the other party would never be thankful for it; the joy on the other’s face was surely due to some plans of the Temple of Fire falling apart.
“Merros killed Princess Margadale. He thought he could pull a fast one, but in this world of tight plots, there must be a flaw. He could never have dreamed that his identity was exposed,” Mephistopheles said with a smile, enunciating each word clearly.
“Really sharp, that young man.”
Wood’s expression changed drastically.
…
“Time’s up, Your Highness. What is your response?”
The battlefield fell silent, as if the sounds of slaughter receded, leaving only the patter of rain. But shortly after, Williams’s voice rang out again.
Arrogant and disdainful.
Brendel noticed Princess Grifian standing dazed in the rain; he was about to step forward when the princess turned first.
In the heavy rain, the half-elf maiden’s silver eyes shone with determination: “Mister Brendel, I have decided to surrender to the Northern nobles.”
Brendel could hardly believe his ears; he stared wide-eyed at the princess. But Princess Grifian merely said softly: “After I die, there will still be someone in Erluin to carry on this ideal. I believe in that person; I believe he hasn’t lied to me—”
She lifted her head, looking at everyone in the forest, “If these people can survive today, one day they will be the seeds of Erluin’s future.”
“Your Highness.”
“Mister Brendel, I have just one request.”
She gazed at Brendel, her eyes shining brilliantly: “Please be sure to rescue my brother. Because even if he can’t be king one day, I at least hope he can live well. This is my only wish, Mister Brendel.”
She produced a crystal and placed it in Brendel’s hand: “This is the Anchor Key; only it can provide an anchoring point for the royal fleet. My father personally established this fleet, and he entrusted it to me. Now I am entrusting it to you.”
Princess Grifian suddenly smiled softly, tears or rain cascading down her cheeks: “Mister Brendel, I hope you remember there was once a princess of Erluin who fought alongside you… I hope the kingdom lasts forever… I hope one day our ideals can truly be realized—”
I truly hope your sword shines eternally, Erluin.
Brendel stared blankly at the princess before him, tears streaming down her face. This was the second time he had seen her cry, no longer the strong figure from history, but the genuine, vulnerable Princess of Erluin.
He covered her mouth with his hand.
Nothing more needed to be said.
At that moment, time seemed to freeze. Brendel drew his longsword, stepping past the surprised princess. He had raised his head and softly replied: “Nothing more needs to be said, Your Highness.”
“Hold onto hope.”
“Do not give up your ideals.”
“Because today, history will not repeat itself.”
“The future of this kingdom will be changed by my own hands for you to see.”
“And from this moment on, all that has passed has dissipated. There will be no more weeping of Buche, nor the crimson mourning. Here, the kingdom has not strayed from the path of glory, and everything still has a chance for redemption.”
Nearby, the lady knight Nemeses, having heard his words, almost reacted like she had been electrocuted, raising her head. But Brendel had already lifted the Earth Sword in his hand, pointing towards that figure in the sky—
“Williams,” Brendel shouted, “the reckoning from forty years ago! Today, on behalf of those people from back then, I have come to claim it—are you ready?”
Silence fell across the forest, and it seemed that only this solitary silhouette of a lone gunman remained on the battlefield.
And before him, was the massive fleet of the Crusians.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your votes, your support is my greatest motivation.)
