Chapter 712: Act 71 – Haruze’s Battle
“Haruze, grip your sword tightly. Think of your sister; you should fight not just as a warrior, but as a man.”
Prince Younger stood there, dazed. The elven witch, the magical spirit, finally reacted, lowering her head to look down at this small prey. Her instincts as a beast made her lips curl into a slight cold smile, as if she were a cat toying with a mouse. She slowly approached him, bending down to wrap her slender arms around Prince Younger’s neck, reaching into his clothes to explore for the magic crystal.
Haruze froze in fear, his beautiful eyes wide open, filled with silver mist. The slender, delicate nose of the elf drew in short breaths. Rationality told him to stab fiercely into the soft abdomen of the opponent, but the long sword in his hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds; his arms seemed to be frozen in place, and all the swordsmanship he had learned slipped away from his mind, leaving only a blank space, his palms sweaty.
Moreover, the magical spirit was staring into his eyes with her dark eye sockets, the darkness of her magic adept at eroding the human heart. The elven witch could easily perceive Prince Younger’s fear. A crescent of darkness split her beautiful, snow-white face, as she looked at him with disdainful laughter. Half of her body was already pressed against Prince Haruze, deliberately pressing her soft body against his cheek, her long arm hanging over Haruze’s neck, her sharp fingers nearly reaching for that magic crystal.
However, her thirst for magic was far beyond just that small magic crystal; the prince, with his innate talent for wizardry, was the most delicious feast in her eyes.
Haruze trembled violently, turning his head awkwardly to plead with Brendel.
“Lord Knight, he truly isn’t fit for battle.” The hunter girl Peiya couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
“He must fight; he has chosen this path and must have the courage to face it,” Brendel replied seriously, ignoring Haruze’s pleading gaze.
Peiya hesitated for a moment, wanting to say something, but eventually fell silent.
“People must fight, each for their own reasons, Miss Hunter. But Haruze’s reasons are particularly different; it is not for glory, nor for faith and ideals, but because he must become stronger, in order to meet the expectations of many.”
“But one cannot always live up to the expectations of others—” Even though she knew her status was lowly, the hunter girl couldn’t help but retort. She thought she would receive a stern reprimand from the knight lord, but Brendel only gently countered, “Do you live up to your brother’s expectations, Miss Peiya?”
“I…”
“Those who genuinely have expectations of you are those closest to you. The truth may not be beautiful, for there is nothing perfect in this world.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You don’t need to apologize for my noble status; even if your words are sharp as a sword, they will only correct my mistakes. Moreover, they are not. And as I said, everyone has their own path.”
Peiya looked at the lord earl with doubt, not fully understanding some of his words. But she vaguely sensed that Brendel was completely different from the noble lords she had met in Shallow Water Town, even differing from the polite knights like Manowell.
Brendel raised his voice: “Haruze, everyone has their first lesson in life; your sister must have told you what the basic qualities of a warrior are—”
Prince Younger’s mind was in turmoil, with no time to fully grasp the words, but the last few words pierced through his chaotic thoughts, like a knock on his heart—
The basic qualities of a warrior?
The snow at Winterclaw Castle was always thin, yet when it fell, it accumulated thickly. Behind the falling snowflakes stood his sister, her voice piercing through the snowy curtain with a severity that frightened him:
“When facing battle, the swordsman must first remain calm, analyze their situation, and understand what should be done—”
But his heart raced, and he could not calm down.
“Fight with your will, not your sword. There are no infallible individuals in this world, but only cowards fear mistakes and dare not draw their swords. In your heart, answer all those who depend on you: will you act as a coward—or will you fight like a real man until the last moment?”
“I…”
“I don’t know!”
Prince Younger felt the icy breath of the magical spirit enveloping him; her cold fingertips traced down his spine, as if in the next moment, she would drag him into the endless abyss of darkness. He could not help but tightly shut his eyes, tears uncontrollably streaming down, yet a strange red hue emerged on his pale face.
He gasped sharply.
“Have you seen the entrance exams for the Royal Academy’s interns? If you don’t submit the test paper, you will never score—”
“Even if you submit it, you might still get a zero! I-I can’t do it, I can’t learn any swordsmanship! I just want to be with my sister, I can’t fight, I don’t want to die, wuwuwu!”
A soft click was heard, the sound of a sword being unsheathed.
Prince Younger almost cried out. But amidst his cries, there was a sharp metallic ringing, the magical spirit holding Haruze suddenly widened her dark eyes, pulling back sharply as the cold blade grazed her lower abdomen.
Haruze spun his sword like a windmill; due to the force, he ended up turning in place.
This pitiful scene resembled that of someone inexperienced with swords swinging wildly, or like a Royal Academy intern lifting a quill, a drop of ink splattering from the tip, staining a pristine scroll.
But at least he had drawn his sword—
Haruze breathed heavily as he dragged his sword, his eyes wide, seemingly unable to believe that he had actually drawn it. For a moment, it felt like a dream.
He looked up to see the magical spirit step back, her face showing confusion. Perhaps she hadn’t figured out for herself how this small prey had suddenly grown fangs. But her reaction was simple—raising her long, slender hand, her fingers pointed at Haruze.
“Be careful!” Peiya couldn’t help but remind.
“Sister!”
Prince Younger felt his mind go blank, quickly raising his long sword to block in front of himself, then turning his head, tightly closing his eyes.
This battle was utterly pitiful; Brendel couldn’t fathom how he was watching this. When he fought for the first time, he was already a hundred times better, but perhaps this was what they referred to as the inherent advantage of players.
Five black flames shot out from the tips of the magical spirit’s fingers, rushing towards Haruze in an instant; but at that moment, a blue light flickered from the sword in his hand, “Shilke’s Loyalty”—a faint blue shield emerged to block, and the black flames shattered into pieces.
“Ah!”
The hunter girl was dumbfounded.
Prince Younger finally reacted, staring blankly at the sword in his hand. He seemed as if he wanted to turn back to ask Brendel, but was sharply brought back to reality by Brendel’s cold words: “What are you dazed for? Counterattack!”
Haruze snapped back to awareness, seemingly regaining some instincts from his training. He immediately turned and swung a sword towards the magical spirit. But even his movements were only slightly better than a clumsy beginner; the magical spirit didn’t even need to dodge, and he struck nothing but air.
“Don’t be so stiff; you need to conserve your strength.”
“I-I understand…”
Haruze managed to regain some balance; he straightened up to track the magical spirit’s silhouette, but the elven witch’s surprise had already turned back into disdain. She smirked silently and lightly circled around behind Prince Younger.
“Watch out behind you.” Peiya’s voice echoed, her gaze on Haruze, almost as if she envisioned her own brother in his place.
The magical spirit raised her slender claws and swiped down towards Haruze’s head. But at that moment, Haruze shifted his right foot, leaning down, and his body naturally assumed the defensive posture of the Cruz noble swordsmanship.
The knight’s defensive swordsmanship.
Brendel’s eyes brightened.
The young prince’s gaze cleared; his heart seemed to calm, as the Kingdom’s wolf, his sister, and Nemeses all instructed him on countless classic examples of surprise attacks—all floated in his mind. Lowering his head, he simultaneously gripped his long sword and slashed backward. The magical spirit’s long claws barely missed sweeping over him, clearly unprepared for this upward strike. The glinting sword tip came into her perception, startling her into realization.
The magical spirit leaned back, but the sword still grazed her chest, leaving a thin black line. Compared to the magical spirit’s defenses, Haruze’s attack was indeed feeble.
Yet the counterattack immediately put the spirit on guard, and she retreated, sending another five magic flames toward the young prince.
But the future king of Erluin had already fully entered the fray. He closed his eyes, feeling as though he were back in the snowy dueling arena of Winterclaw Castle, even better than before. He raised Shilke’s Loyalty, and the black flames struck the suddenly appearing shield, exploding once again, the falling embers scattered on the snow, creating sunken pits.
Haruze took a deep breath.
Erluin’s military swordsmanship.
Inherited from the wind elves, it was known as the most orthodox light and agile battle swordsmanship suitable for humans. After being refined by Darus, this swordsmanship had taken on a strong offensive character.
He dashed forward toward the magical spirit.
This awkward charge seemed utterly pointless in Brendel’s eyes, but Haruze’s ability to shift from defense to offense so quickly surprised him—he slightly pursed his lips.
Haruze’s frontal attack was slightly clumsy in the eyes of the magical spirit as well. Before he steadied himself, the spirit swept him off his feet with her claws, sending him sprawling in the snow. Yet he immediately scrambled up, raising his sword to block the dark flames.
However, this time, Shilke’s Loyalty did not perform as he wished, failing to completely block the spell. The moment the dark magic struck the shield, his long sword snapped with a crack, breaking into silver dust, and he was thrown back by the immense force, crashing into a thick pile of snow.
Brendel clicked his tongue. Protecting against the three-ring spells, Shilke’s Loyalty performed even better than he expected. He extended his hand, and a white light flashed, revealing another identical long sword in his grasp.
“Shilke’s Loyalty II.”
“Continue.”
He deliberately tossed the second sword far away, and Prince Younger lunged and rolled through the snow to grab it. By now, he looked like a little snowman, but at least his sword-drawing stance was becoming more credible; with a sharp ‘clang’, the blade sliced from its sheath, tracing a perfect curve alongside the flying snowflakes.
As soon as the sword was drawn, it met the five incoming black flames head-on, and with a tremendous noise, the flames created from dark magic exploded like fireworks.
Amidst the scattering sparks, a figure shot out.
Haruze seemed to have finally realized the magical spirit’s weakness; with a charge, he tilted his sword diagonally, aiming at the slender claws of the elven witch. The magical spirit’s dark eyes widened, and she swiped back in an attempt to evade this suddenly defiant little beast.
But to the astonishment of both Peiya and even the magical spirit herself, the previously weak little prince was now infused with a wolf-like ferocity. He clenched his teeth like a wolf cub and charged forward. The spirit’s claws dug into his shoulder, flesh and blood splattering, and the young prince of Erluin cried out in pain, but with his right hand, he swung his sword at the magical spirit’s left claw.
Unfortunately, the force was insufficient, leaving only a deep gash.
The magical spirit screamed in pain, though could not vocalize; she unleashed a mighty slap with her large gaping mouth, sending the young prince flying.
Haruze’s body flipped and rolled in the snow before landing, and the black flames surged toward him once more. His eyes reflected the scene, utterly beyond anything he had learned in the arena. Yet at that moment, it felt like a survival instinct; in midair, he plunged his sword downward again, the black flames once more striking the shield that appeared next to him.
The flames erupted, and the massive impact caused him to lose grip on the sword, sending him flying until he crashed against a nearby pine tree.
Brendel watched the magical spirit—he knew she must also be out of magic. For magic beings, their magic was their life; they couldn’t risk their lives to cast spells again.
He pulled out a third sword and tossed it far again.
“Shilke’s Loyalty III.”
Wounded and battered, Haruze caught the sword this time. He trembled all over, but his sword-drawing movement was still meticulous. He raised his head to find the magical spirit was no longer launching ranged attacks, lingering instead in indecision about whether to retreat.
But evidently, the fragrant magic power emanating from Haruze left her uncertain.
The young prince, however, could not concern himself with much at that moment; his mind was a chaotic mess, yet his spirit was in a heightened state of excitement. He had never imagined he could battle against such a monster; although he did not know how powerful the magical spirit was, he understood how excellent the knights were that had been chosen from his sister’s guard.
He took a deep breath, gripping the hilt of the long sword with both hands.
“This action…”
Brendel paused slightly.
“Eh.” Peiya also whispered in surprise.
In the snow, a beam of white light shot skyward, resembling a crescent moon, instantly sweeping across half the forest towards the magical spirit. Accompanied by Haruze’s youthful roar: “Aaaahhh—!”
……(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to support it with recommendations and monthly votes on qidian.com; your support is my biggest motivation.)
