Chapter 732: Act 89 – Redemption IV
History quietly reflects in the starry night sky, those brilliant new stars are said to be the heroes of the past, overlooking the land from above the firmament, gazing upon today’s world with a historical perspective. The wind above the pine forest has not ceased for a moment, but it is not fierce; instead, it gently stirs the needles with an invisible hand, making them sway in an orderly manner, creating a soft rustling sound.
Like a murmured dream, it narrates the past of this forest.
The edge of the world collapses with the progression of dreams, and the area surrounding the woods seems to be swallowed by endless fog, leaving only this small realm in the void— the wind between the mountains passes through the forest, on the meadow, in the coach, the attacked elven maiden, together with Brendel and his group, forms this still picture.
Moonlight sweeps across the mountains and fields, time flows quietly with the rushing starry sky, the bright moon rises in the west and sets in the east.
For everyone, this is the end of a dream, but it is not a line; Brendel raises his head to look at the entire forest, his gaze passing through layers of tree trunks and falling on the dark coach. He shouts, “Kartel, I know you are here, come out and let me see your tricks.”
An instant of silence, so quiet that a falling needle could be heard—
A pale figure appears from within the coach, swaying slightly like a ghost, glowing faintly as if shrouded in pale phosphorescence. He wears a crisp noble outfit, with an elven longsword at his waist, but he has no face, just a flat visage like a stone slab with a pair of shining eyes.
Without a mouth, communication becomes impossible. The Minren say that language is the bridge between people, but the nameless person has long escaped into his own dream, forever lost. Therefore, apart from using his eyes to ‘question,’ he no longer needs his ears or mouth.
The pale ghost stands at the door of the coach, silent as he locks eyes with Brendel, who also remains silent.
After what seems like a long time, the ghost slowly speaks, “Why do you challenge me?”
Though it has no mouth, the voice seems to echo throughout the forest, like thunder rolling from the horizon. Haruz’s face turns pale in fear, instinctively shrinking behind his sister, but the princess and her group seem oblivious, staring blankly at the direction of Brendel’s dialogue, as if nothing existed there.
“You should understand what you ought to do, and what you are protecting here is merely an illusion that doesn’t exist. You should return to your own world instead of wasting time here. Otherwise, you will become lost in this dreamlike delusion, unable to awaken forever,” Viscount Kartel slowly said. “But you have come here to reveal your weak choice, choosing to stay here forever, indulging in past illusions?”
If he can’t threaten, will he resort to ‘gentle persuasion’? Brendel sneers, drawing his sword and pointing it at the pale shadow: “What is weaker than weakness? You are nothing but a fractured persona; rage and jealousy have long extinguished your mind. After wandering in the forest for so long, obsession has already consumed your humanity. How can someone like you understand what redemption truly is?”
He exhales, revealing bright white teeth, responding, “What you have forgotten is not just your reputation; you have forgotten something much more important, lost along the long road behind you. Viscount Kartel, the starting point of it all, the root of regret, concealed beneath countless scars, but I will find it and show it to you—”
“The reason people learn to cry is to protect their pain, and you have long forgotten this. Because you can no longer be called a human.”
The sword of the earth pierces the darkness like a dream’s blade, pointing straight ahead, towards the chest of the pale shadow, but it also resembles a boundary line within the forest, separating this side from the other world.
Anger flashes across the ghost’s face.
In the next moment, a flicker of flame appears deep within Haruz’s silver eyes, flames erupting from the coach behind Viscount Kartel, rapidly spreading and soon engulfing the forest in a sea of fire. The eyes of Viscount Kartel shine, and he coldly waves his hand, letting out a shrill sound: “Well, let’s see how long you can hold your ground—”
“What you call perseverance is nothing but fragility.”
“Every human heart is an illusion.”
The pale ghost extends its left hand, its fingers transforming into sharp claws. Suddenly, a crack appears on its featureless face, resembling a mouth, silently mocking everyone.
Then the sea of fire swallowed the entire forest, flames rising, dense fog ascending, and the surroundings changed once more. Brendel felt the crackling flames still burning beside him, but when he looked around, the pine forest had long vanished. What appeared in his sight was a straight corridor, one side lined with large arched windows, beyond which a manor and palace extended into the glowing distance.
But this dazzling jewel sitting on the plain was now covered in dust; the entire city was ablaze, flames leaping high, and Brendel along with the younger prince saw the fire spreading along the palace, burning down to their feet, with fire as far as the eye could see.
The glass of the arched windows shattered under the intense heat, and countless skeletal soldiers surged in from outside, these bone structures unsteadily wielding their underworld steel long swords, their eyes glowing with phosphorescence, closing in from this direction.
On those dark long swords, the blooming black roses of Broamente were so dazzling, like a thorn tightening around Brendel’s pupils.
What a familiar scene, the undead emerging from the sea of fire, the palace burning, the city collapsing, the Undead Army sweeping across the homeland, leaving only scorched earth in its wake.
The brilliant flag of Erluin finally turned to ashes on this night. It marked the last night above, the lament of Erluin’s players echoing in his memory.
The final battle of Menstros—
Viscount Kartel’s shrill laughter echoed in the air, his tone laced with hatred: “Do you think making a choice is so simple? But reality will always force you; you will face a dead end, life or death, you must choose one. Before the power of fate, what can mere mortals be?”
But Brendel completely ignored him. Feeling his own power, he realized he was still only at the peak of silver level. He turned immediately to Haruz beside him and said, “Take your sister and retreat to the Golden Palace, find a way to reach White Rose Castle from there; you should know there is a secret passage leading to the underground river.”
“But what about you, teacher?” Haruz, with one hand tightly grasped by Princess Grifian, raised his head with worry.
“I’m of course retreating with you. What are you thinking?” Brendel replied irritably, “But I have to deal with these skeletons. You’re not going to ask me to hold your sister’s hand all the time, are you?”
Princess Grifian was taken aback, noticing that Brendel had been holding her wrist; she hurriedly blushed and pulled her hand away. “I know that secret passage; it’s under the bed in the room where the queen used to stay. Follow me.” She answered, pretending to remain calm.
Haruz stuck out his tongue, quickly shielding his sister and retreating towards the corridor behind Brendel. Brendel turned back and saw those skeletal figures were slow but had drawn near. He realized that entangling with these low-level undead creatures would lead to endless trouble. Raising his head and examining the structure of the corridor, he lifted his sword and, with two swift cuts, severed a row of columns on either side of the hallway. The unsupported corridor crashed down, burying all the staggering undead beneath.
With just two or three stragglers left, Brendel kicked each one back into the ruins before sheathing his sword and running.
The Golden Palace was completely engulfed in flames, but at least it still appeared similar to everything he remembered. The corridor leading to the inner court was largely built with stone, thus remaining intact amidst the flames. They rushed through this path towards White Rose Castle, and not long after, the silhouette of the Cruz-style castle gradually became clear in the night.
White Rose Castle was established before the Year of the Golden Hoof; its original proprietors were the Cruzian people, later allocated to the ancestors and their subjects with the land. After the Year of Revelation, the castle was destroyed in a fire and later rebuilt along with the Golden Palace; now what Brendel saw was this rebuilt castle.
This castle was the last stronghold of the Menstros royal palace and the fortress that fell during the last battle of the third Black Rose War.
“The drawbridge of the castle must have been raised; we can only go through the back door from the kitchen now,” Princess Grifian reminded while running.
Brendel nodded, this aligned with his expectations. The kitchen had no way to escape, but there was a passage for transporting food, and as long as they entered the inner city, there was a way to flee from the Golden Palace. But he didn’t think too much about where they would go after leaving the inner city.
It was time to go all out.
Just as they burst into the small grove of the front courtyard of the castle, suddenly, a squad of knights in black armor charged out ahead. Brendel, seeing those knights fully armored, their iron masks glowing with bluish phosphorescence, couldn’t help but frown.
Black Knights.
He almost moaned in despair; in this era, these should be the elite knights of the Madara Undead Army. If he had his original strength, dealing with them would be effortless, but now, breaking through their defenses was undoubtedly a fight for his life.
Under Kartel’s manipulation, the Black Knights almost immediately detected the presence of the princess and her group, turning their dead steeds towards them, advancing while raising their pitch-black long blades high. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your votes and support my motivation.)
