Chapter 629: Act 372 – Requiem XXII
In the last golden age, the Bud people created colossal statues and named one of them ‘Tremiel’—a titan from an ancient legend. This sacred weapon was once a powerful tool for the people of order against the twilight; however, everything associated with it vanished from the annals of history after the fall of the final fortress, ‘Babel.’
Yet the legends surrounding it continued to be passed down across the land. Its strength and might are still recounted by people today, a supreme creation capable of standing against the twilight, rivaling the rare weapons of the mortal realm.
And until today, it has reappeared before the world—
As the first colossal statue rose, a second titan stood from the earth. The moment Brendel saw this scene, he put everything aside and hurriedly turned away, running towards Antinna. The chaos king, Nicland, was momentarily stunned before he reacted, “The portal! Stop him!” he shouted in a mix of surprise and anger.
Brendel had precisely this in mind; upon seeing the two titans emerge, he understood that victory was but a distant hope. Therefore, it would be better to find a way to blow up the portal before the opponents arrived.
Of course, the first step was to revive Antinna.
The eagle, Dejyar, immediately chased after him. But Charles blocked his way, reciting, “I command that they cannot pass, the wall’s decree!” With his unharmed left hand, he cast a spell, which surprisingly took shape, forming a wall of force between the two.
The wall appeared so abruptly that Dejyar almost crashed into it, but his keen reflexes made him stop just in time. He turned and cut down at the wall with his sword in midair; the sound of a loud crash echoed, and the sword struck the transparent wall, rippling outward like waves but remaining entirely still.
Dejyar had no choice but to retreat, trying to bypass the wall. But this delay had already wasted the most precious opportunity. At that moment, Nicolas had finally defeated the last long-horned demon and noticed the situation here. The great swordsman of Siphai turned and swept his sword straight across a distance of over a hundred meters, bringing a fiery wind towards the eagle, Dejyar.
Though Dejyar was known as a fearsome swordsman in Anlek, he didn’t have the gall to compare himself with Nicolas. When he saw that flame leaving a golden-red line through the rainy night charging towards him, his expression changed drastically, and he awkwardly rolled away to avoid the strike.
While he avoided the blade, his clothes were soaked in mud, and he stood up looking utterly disheveled. Dejyar’s temper flared, and he couldn’t help but shout angrily, “Nicolas, are you betraying Duke Siphai?!”
Nicolas didn’t bother with the idiot. In the next moment, he appeared beside Charles, stopping the charging chaos king, Nicland, with a sword. Nicland yelled in frustration, but at that moment, he could not compete with Nicolas, no matter how furious he was; he could only watch helplessly as Brendel rushed toward the portal.
…
Brendel ran desperately forward. The titan statues were the pinnacle creations of Bud sorcerers; legends say they wield the power of lightning, not living stones, but capable of darting across the battlefield like lightning. The speed of lightning is something anyone could conceive, thus he had to act before they arrived and destroy the portal.
Not long into his run, he found the body of his aide, Antinna, lying motionless, her long dress almost soaked through with blood—though he had been prepared, seeing Antinna’s pale and peaceful face with her eyes tightly shut still made his heart ache.
She could have lived quietly in Bruglas; though impoverished, she wouldn’t have had to die an untimely death. He knew she would one day create her own magical power core and become the most dazzling star of Erluin.
Yet she chose to walk this path with him.
Even after giving up the work she loved dearly, she never once complained. She stood quietly by his side, advising him on how a proper noble should behave, sometimes rigid, but filled with kindness and expectations.
Brendel once thought his aide too inflexible, but only in loss did he realize how deeply he owed this maiden.
He silently gazed at Antinna’s ‘sleeping face,’ summoned the Traveler Mage system, and prayed that Lady Martha had left him a thread of hope. But when he gently turned her body over, he was momentarily stunned.
Antinna’s bloodstained dress was torn in several places, as if recounting Nicland’s savage claws. But beyond that, Brendel soon discovered he could not find any wounds; except for the three narrow slashes on her clothing that proved the hell king’s claws had grazed there, her skin beneath was as fair as jade, with not a trace of injury or scar to be found.
Brendel blinked, almost thinking he was hallucinating. He instinctively slapped his own face, then tentatively checked Antinna’s temperature, feeling for the wounds beneath her clothing. He was shocked to find Antinna’s body was still warm.
He was instantly frozen.
At that moment, the noble maiden let out a soft, delicate groan, furrowed her brows, her long eyelashes slightly quivering, and then opened her eyes. Her dark pupils stared in surprise at Brendel and his actions.
As for Brendel’s actions—
Brendel was half-squatting beside his aide, one hand carefully moving through the torn fabric, his palm pressed down on her soft, warm chest.
The two stared at each other.
Antinna’s face turned so red that it was beyond description, as if she were grasping for words, she softly replied, “Lord… please, maintain your dignity… how can you be in such a place…”
But Brendel seemed not to hear her, his expression one of astonishment as he stared at Antinna, “Antinna, you’re not hurt?”
“Ah!”
Antinna seemed to snap to reality, recalling everything that had just happened. She instantly forgot Brendel’s behavior, her expression shifting to one of disbelief.
“Ah… I… I’m not dead?” The usually astute aide was momentarily thrown off by such a bizarre situation, “But how could this be…?”
“Lord, am I dreaming? Is this the land of the dead, or Lady Martha’s Eden?”
“No, neither, Antinna, you’re not hurt… no, I don’t know what’s happening.” Brendel had a jumbled mass of thoughts swirling in his mind, but not one was reasonable. He was certain he had not been mistaken, nor had he hallucinated; Antinna had to have been killed by Nicland; the slashes and blood on her dress were proof.
But what was going on then?
As he pondered this, he suddenly saw Antinna lying on the ground, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the rain as they slid down her fair cheeks.
“Antinna?” Brendel felt a heavy blow to his heart. He fully understood the meaning in her gaze.
Those weren’t tears of shock, nor of excitement, nor sadness, but of uncontrollable joy. Because she could be with him once more, free from the solitude of the land of the dead.
In that moment, Brendel felt something soft within his heart had been touched.
Before that, the aide had tightly embraced him.
Tears fell like beads from a broken string, rolling down her cheeks. She said nothing, yet it spoke more than a thousand words. At that moment, Brendel suddenly understood her choice.
Brendel quietly sensed the warmth that flowed from the noble maiden and if he could, he would be willing to give her a bit more time. However, this was not the time for tenderness; he paused, calmly placing his hands on Antinna’s shoulders to gently pull her away from himself.
“Antinna, this isn’t the time for such talk; we need your help.”
Antinna gently nodded, regaining her composure; the shock of being revived had caused her a brief moment of loss of self. But she was, after all, still that aide; she wiped the corners of her eyes, “I understand, the portal. There’s another portal, Lord, can you help me up?”
Brendel hurriedly helped her to her feet, and the two of them quickly ran towards the portal. At that same moment, Nicolas had just blocked the chaos king Nicland and eagle swordsman Dejyar.
The portal was still a hundred meters away.
Just then—
A bolt of lightning pierced the night sky, changing everyone’s expressions. That zigzagging electric flash streaked across the battlefield above; in the next moment, it suddenly struck in front of Brendel and Antinna, blocking them from the portal.
As the lightning faded, surrounded by swirling white smoke, a massive figure appeared behind them. It stood tall in the rain, its height surpassing a hundred meters, still caked with dirt, but the rain had washed away the filth, revealing a bronze-like skin underneath.
It looked like a bronze creation, but in reality, it was a product of granite magically reinforced.
In this world, aside from the Bud sorcerers, no one knew this giant better than Brendel. It was a titan, the supreme creation of the artisan sorcerers.
Its body was built from stone, but after being enchanted by magic, it was harder than the most resilient eternite. Ancient alchemy had been lost after the war, and every existing titan statue came from gifts of an era long before.
But among the many rumors about these gifts, the harrowing tales of their power were the most prevalent.
When the Bud sorcerers sacked Alr, which housed the stone tablets, only one titan statue was employed to level the third-largest city, Jotungrund, beneath. It was said that after that battle, Alr turned to ash, as witnessed by players.
Brendel instinctively halted.
The titan loomed before him like a mountain, standing between him and the portal. Although the distance was negligible, it felt like a distant horizon.
Brendel couldn’t help but grip his sword tightly, while his aide cautiously gave him a glance. But could they give up now?
Clearly not.
