Chapter 598: Act 343 – Beneath the Abyss I
The gray-white sky above was disintegrating, like oatmeal dissolved in milk. Brendel stood in the center of the plain, watching the corpse of the Vice Commander of the Temple of Fire Knights, as the black flames on him gradually faded away, fluttering like black butterflies.
“How is it?” Otales suddenly asked.
“Close call.” Brendel let out a light breath. His last encounter with Williams made him acutely aware of the gap in power between himself and a true strongman. Even at the last moment, even if Williams did not retaliate, he couldn’t break through the Vice Commander’s defenses without activating the Fool’s Frenzy talent.
In the end, it came down to relying on his own strength to save his life. But regardless, he was fortunate enough to have won; that was enough.
After a pause.
Brendel suddenly asked, “Lord Otales, you knew all along that Chunximan’s deck had flaws too, right?”
Otales smiled gently, “Some things you must experience yourself to truly understand. Years of war have taught me this. A rookie finds it hard to transform into a veteran without experiencing setbacks, my young one.”
Brendel felt a pang of understanding. The moment Williams pulled him into the extreme plain, the absolute rules of the mage were broken—Medisa, Charles, and other summoned beings were cut off from the world—meaning even if a circle was formed, Chunximan’s deck still had weaknesses.
Looking back at the final result, he had indeed won by sheer luck. Fortunately, it was Williams and not some other more powerful opponent who discovered the flaw, thus the person lying on the ground was not him.
This meant he still had a chance to make up for it.
The reason he asked Otales was that he suddenly thought of the enemies of the Four Saints—wasn’t it the Dark Dragon Odin? The deer-woman Enya had told him that Odin was also a powerful mage, but since the Four Saints could defeat Odin, it meant that mages were not above this world.
Otales seemed to see through his thoughts and answered softly, “It is said that every mage seeks the perfect loop. Under near-perfect conditions, the rules can create a world of their own. Within this loop, the mage’s power is impeccable. Unfortunately, no one has achieved this yet…”
Brendel understood her implication: Odin had failed to do so initially, or else he wouldn’t have lost to them.
“Odin’s deck is without light; it is far more aggressive than the one you bear. The characteristic of that deck is to convert all elements into dark power, which, in turn, is his domain. Can you imagine the feeling of fighting the Dark Dragon, where he grows stronger while you grow weaker?”
“That sounds a bit like Madara.”
“Don’t change the subject; Madara’s undead were originally his subordinates and worshippers,” Otales replied. “Odin didn’t have as many creature cards as Chunximan. All his cards were artifacts, abilities, spells, and barriers. His own strength is incredibly formidable, so he didn’t have your pathetic little weakness. Yet we still managed to defeat him.”
“How did you do that?” Brendel couldn’t help but feel curious.
She spoke with a hint of pride, “Because his core power is conversion, he must rely on the artifacts and spells on the field to transform our power. His cards can quickly form a loop, much faster than yours. Once he takes hold, he can create a loop, and then all that remains is to keep filtering cards to counter our attacks. Each counterattack allows him to draw dark elements to continue his loop.”
“Wait, are you saying he had no land cards?”
“Land cards are the weakness of mages; how could he leave such a flaw? Young one, do you truly believe that land cards in your world wouldn’t be attacked? Have you forgotten how you entered Williams’ world? He had just crossed into this extreme realm; the true extreme plain is a complete world, maximized by one’s rules. And the mage’s land cards exist within his extreme plain—”
“Ah.” Brendel couldn’t help but exclaim.
“That’s why having land cards is a weakness in itself. We cannot counterattack your land cards directly like a true mage would. However, we can violently destroy them,” Otales continued. “Odin was a genius; he designed a deck that didn’t require land cards. But unfortunately, this also sowed the seeds of his downfall. During the final battle, Fanzan constantly dismantled his core spells, leading to a breakdown in his elemental chain, which gave us a chance.”
“You could counterattack the fate cards?”
“No, while we technically could, it’s not that simple. Because the spells we cast to counter his would also be countered and transformed by his spells,” Otales said, struggling with her words. “We used a clumsy but effective method, dismantling our attack before he could counter our spells. Without land cards, the elements Odin used to initiate his deck were extremely limited. Once his counters received no replenishment, the elements would be depleted, and thus, at great cost, we ultimately achieved victory.”
Brendel was stunned; he didn’t expect the result to be so simple. However, he knew that this was merely superficial; in reality, it was likely far more complicated. The Dark Dragon’s strength surpassed that of the Four Saints. To dismantle each other’s spells while enduring his attacks, the ferocity of that battle could be imagined.
Brendel knew that in the final battle, the coalition had lost nearly four-fifths of its forces. Those who survived later became heroes.
He felt shaken, but also sighed in disappointment: he didn’t expect even a being as powerful as the Dark Dragon would ultimately meet death; he foolishly thought that mages were invincible.
Yet he also felt a vague sense of anticipation; what mages pursued was the ultimate perfection, the original words Tumen had told him. Now Otales had reiterated it; is there truly a flawless deck?
Otales couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression, “Come on, young one, you should realize by now. With someone else’s deck, how could you become a true mage? Be it a mage or a saint, top-tier strong ones ultimately aim to develop their own laws to perfection.”
Brendel nodded.
He raised his head; Williams’ extreme plain had nearly vanished. He extended his hand, feeling a few cold raindrops in his palm, as the wind and rain from Mount Anlek seeped into this world, and the sounds of battle became clearer.
Indeed, it was time for him to walk his own path.
He had once hesitated, but also due to the needs of the situation. Erluin was precarious; choosing his own deck meant starting over. By the time he became a mage, the kingdom would likely no longer exist.
But now, it was different.
Ampere Seale had another history; the princess had not compromised with anyone in this history, and there was still a glimmer of hope for Erluin. As for the rest, he was now capable of grasping everything.
Williams’ world had completely collapsed, and the sounds of wind and rain outside had become real again. Yet at that moment, his figure once more returned to the pouring rain.
Everyone in the forest saw the fallen Vice Commander of the Knights of the Temple, also seeing Brendel standing beside him, holding the Sword of Earth.
In the downpour, there was a moment of silence.
From the moment Williams pulled Brendel into the extreme plain to the moment Brendel killed him and reappeared, only a brief moment had passed in the outside world. Princess Grifian, Antinna, Medisa, Charles, and everyone outside had experienced a journey from hell to paradise.
“Lord,” Antinna seemed to have lost all her strength and slowly leaned back against a black pine tree.
“Mr. Brendel!” Medisa’s joy was like the song of a lark, piercing through the forest.
“Ha,” Charles stood in the rain, a faint smile appearing on his face—like back in Ridenburg when he and Brendel stole treasures from Duke Golan-Elsen—an earnest smile that came from the heart.
Andrigraphis let out a gentle hum. The worried expression on the face of the vampire girl seemed to fade away, transforming into the warmest smile filled with joy: “Lord!”
The towering Repal remained silent. The lizardman lord’s eyes were filled with determination; he believed in his lord just as he believed in the most outstanding hero of their clan. For heroes never disappoint those who trust them.
The mercenaries from Lubis erupted into cheers, and the red-haired girl let out a long breath, silently drawing a cross on her chest.
Amid the crowd—
Only Princess Grifian closed her eyes, her eyelashes quivering gently.
At that moment, she finally felt that Lady Martha had not abandoned this kingdom. Just like a mother who always gently observes her children, watching them uphold the noble glory and faith through generations.
The rain continued to fall.
Only seven Knights of the Temple remained, their hands cold. They didn’t know how to accept the current reality, having lost their companions, and even their Vice Commander perished here.
The noblest blood of the Crusian quietly drifted in this remote mountainous region whose name they didn’t even know.
Above the cloud layer.
Flames intertwined brilliantly as the black tower wizard’s square tower exploded violently, then fell into the mountains of Anlek.
The Dragoons of the Southern army were organizing their final charge, and beneath the rain curtain were explosions accumulating. Under the golden light, the knights of the kingdom showed their greatest courage.
The Taylor withdrew from the battle.
The Iris withdrew from the battle.
The Rorpore’s cabin caught fire, leading to an explosion.
The Vaowoli crashed.
Nostad felt the wound beneath his armor was about to tear apart; the shoulder of the young dragon he was mounted on was cut open by shrapnel, and patches of his tail and wings were burnt. The excruciating pain tormented every inch of his nerves, but he knew he could not retreat a single step. The outcome of the battle hinged on the confrontation between the Knights of the Temple and Brendel’s group; before that, they must stop the Crusian fleet from raining fire upon the center of the princess’s army.
But the Southern army had nearly exhausted its utmost effort.
Without reinforcements, victory seemed more distant than ever. Though the Northern coalition was slowly retreating on the ground, the monks of the Temple of Fire in the sky seemed to paint a nightmarish scene, unfurling like endless shooting stars amid the rain curtain.
A series of sharp sounds rang out in his ears.
That was the volley from the musketeers on the Pelan’s gun deck. Nostad felt a tremendous force hit his chest, but he gripped the reins tightly. Several comrades fell from the sky to one side.
“We’ve done our best.”
He raised his head, as if hoping to see the brilliant light of the Loop of Trade Winds. But the storm blurred the entire Ampere Seale offshore. The sky converged with the ground, a darkness beneath the clouds, sunlight could barely penetrate the thick clouds.
In the darkness, there was no light.
Nostad narrowed his eyes.
Suddenly—
In the distance, a light flickered in the darkness. In an instant, it seemed that a tear opened in the weakened magical shield around the Pelan, and a fireball ignited on the flagship of the Crusian.
Explosion, flames, and shattered wooden blocks soared from the deck.
“It’s gunfire!”
Nostad jolted awake, suddenly alert. How could there be gunfire? Was it Crusian’s friendly fire? No, he suddenly remembered that fleeting light.
He stiffly looked back in that direction.
…
The Crusian seemed to still be in disbelief that they had been attacked.
Yet the Second Fleet of Cornelia was indeed being subjected to an unexpected, severe bombardment from the flank, bright explosions intermingling in the sky.
The first round of volley struck the seven escort ships on the flank. Especially the most outward, the Bialasso, had absorbed nearly all bombardments due to lack of defense, the entire warship disintegrated mid-air, transforming into a magnificent display of fireworks.
The bombardment continued.
A strange fleet was advancing toward the battlefield directly from Saintly White Bay, unleashing fierce cannon fire that enveloped the entire flank of the Second Fleet of Cornelia like a tempest.
The Crusian lost nearly one-tenth of their ships in an instant.
The massive fleet awkwardly attempted to turn around, as if they finally realized who their opponents were. It was indeed a fleet that was no inferior to theirs; the people of Erluin had purchased these battleships from the wind spirits, and over twenty years, they had devoted countless human resources into building this fleet.
This could be considered the only military force within this ancient kingdom that had the spirit of this era.
The First Royal Fleet of Erluin was slowly advancing through the clouds.
…
(PS: Alright, that black guy insisted I change my recommendation because he thought my paragraphs were too short, so let me rewrite that part… oh no, I meant, I’ll re-post the summary I wrote again. Let’s use the following chapters to test, it won’t count toward the charging word count…) (To be continued. If you like this work, please come to Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
