Chapter 742: Act 99 – Two-headed Dragon? (Part 2)
“Frost Young Dragon Shi Ta is the gatekeeper of the Temple of Winter Sleep. I think Duke Anlek is well aware of this. Any stranger approaching the Temple of Winter Sleep will provoke a reaction from the gatekeeper,” Brendel replied.
“You mean Anlek will definitely use this to his advantage. I’ve heard about that old fox; he is cautious and deep, used to planning before acting, just like the previous generation’s duke,” Veronika said, raising her head. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled with a cold light. Although her hand was covering her long hair, the blue strands still danced in the fierce northern wind under the sunlight. Her gaze penetrated the ice field, as if she had already seen the outcome that Brendel anticipated, but she still asked, “Although I agree with this, how do you plan to confirm it?”
Brendel watched the snowflakes swept up by the wind, floating like a layer of powder over the glacier. At that moment, several indistinct figures suddenly appeared behind the snowstorm in his sight. He replied, “We will know soon.” The figures emerging from the icy fog were Babasha and her company. The old witch hunched her body, as the icy wind tugged at a corner of her tattered robe, and her silver hair resembled a specter’s wildness. She limped to Brendel’s side and spoke with deep reverence, “Esteemed lord, we are ready.” She trembled as she held up a crystal ball toward Brendel.
Veronika frowned at this scene; she did not like the witch.
Brendel glanced at the people behind Babasha. Besides the girl in wooden shoes standing there with a pot of honey in her hands, there were two important figures: Kulur, the inheritor witch of Sword Moon (Slaughter), and Anwei, the inheritor witch of Cup Moon (Jealousy). Both were significant figures; their status in the witch country of Burnoson far exceeded that of Babasha.
Kulur was a tall woman, her graceful figure wrapped in a gray witch’s robe. She wore a hood, her skin as white as snow, her eyebrows long and thin like needles, with prominent cheekbones and a detached expression, giving off a sense of coldness; while Anwei resembled a woman in her forties, dressed in a thick fur coat that hid her figure, which, even under the bulky fabric, revealed some plumpness. The smile on her face could not conceal the shrewdness in her eyes.
They claimed to be seeking Brendel’s protection, but he realized that the attitudes of the former two were far from the respect that Babasha had shown him; this allegiance was more of an investigation than submission. The inheritance of the Dark Dragon was divided into seven, not just him alone, but Brendel did not mind; he was confident he could make these unpleasant characters serve him.
Brendel took the crystal ball, and an image immediately appeared, forming a circular view. He saw behind the snowstorm, an open and boundless snow field. He let his vision move further north, and immediately, the image displayed interlacing ice crevices, shaped like swords cutting through the ground, a crystalline forest growing among them, followed by a flat frozen plain, where the wind blew across the ice surface, creating rolling waves of snow.
Shi Do, Veronika, and several Crusian nobles who had followed from behind were all intently watching this scene. The probing spell was the witch’s strong suit; even the skilled astrologers could not match them. This power stemmed from the blind girl Yilian, as all past and future reflections lay upon the depths of the abyssal lake.
It was said that among witches, the most powerful could indeed probe part of the future’s causality.
The spell of the crystal ball was controlled by Anwei. As Brendel carefully observed the scenes above, he noticed the young woman slightly furrowing her brows, though she had not shown signs of fatigue. It was known that the vision in the crystal ball had already expanded to several miles away, indicating her strength had reached the pinnacle of gold.
Suddenly, the image flickered, and a group of figures appeared in the snowfield against the icy wind. This group was dressed in thick bearskin coats, wielding various weapons, with some leading a sturdy pony. Brendel recognized from their attire that these were the Enhol people from the Anlek Highlands; Lantonrand referred to them as bigfoot halflings, but they were not actually halflings, but rather a branch of hobbits or gnomes. It was said that Anlek possessed a loyal company of Enhol halberdiers, and this should be the very group now.
“Halfling cavalry, they are Anlek’s people,” Veronika also recognized at a glance. “Brendel, it seems you guessed correctly again.”
“This isn’t luck,” Brendel replied in annoyance. “But he is willing to use his elite as cannon fodder; Anlek truly is extraordinary.”
At that moment, a series of footsteps came from the snowy ground behind the three. Shi Do turned to look and found it was their officer group.
“Lady Veronika, do you know if Blund has arrived?” Before the officer group could get closer, the leading noble spoke out first. His name was Grid, a core member of the Silverleaf Arbitration Group from the Crusian Elder Council, who claimed to be an envoy, but in fact was present to counterbalance Veronika’s authority.
This man was not military-born but was muscular and stout, resembling a soldier more than a knight. He wore a gray deer leather coat, with a hat tilted to one side, where three white feathers adorned the brim to signify his marquis identity, yet he looked more like a butcher than an elegant noble.
“It is not I who commands here, Grid. If you have any questions, you can ask this Lord Earl beside me,” Veronika replied coldly, narrowing her eyes at him.
Her tone was stiff, but the army commander did not seem to be at odds with this unpleasant character before him. Soldiers traditionally do not mingle with nobles of the elder council.
However, unexpectedly, Grid pressed on, proudly responding, “I’m sorry, Lady Veronika, but I do not trust those Erluin people.”
Veronika’s face immediately cooled down.
Brendel snorted coldly. “Truly ungrateful for your face.”
“What did you say?”
“I said you are a complete fool,” Brendel declared directly. He held no goodwill towards the Crusian people; Veronika was perhaps an exception, but he had never been a nice guy to others. He continued, “When Freya arrives at the predetermined attack location, we will initiate an attack; it only concerns me here. From now on, I am the highest commander here, not Lady Veronika nor you—”
“If you have doubts, I do not need to explain to you. If you are dissatisfied, you can take off your squirrel skin gloves and throw them at me; I wouldn’t mind nailing sc*m like you to this ice with my sword, and I bet your bl**d would freeze in your veins before it even spills out through your flabby skin.”
Brendel released a touch of elemental aura, locking onto that group of officers, which turned Grid’s face pale. “You…” he gritted his teeth, but ultimately did not dare to utter the latter half of his words. “Hope you’re right!”
Grid suddenly recalled that this man had once killed Williams. He thought to himself that he did not have the status of a vice commander of the Temple of Fire’s knight order, and if Brendel truly erupted in anger, killing him would be as easy as squashing an ant.
Especially as he thought about the temple having lost a talented swordsman in Erluin, yet he did not mention seeking revenge; it sent a chill down his spine regarding Brendel’s deep background.
Veronika observed the conflict between the two coldly, and noticing Grid’s retreat, she felt disappointed, frowning. While she did not wish for Brendel to suffer, the courage and quality of the imperial nobles were indeed appalling. “Brendel, are you truly confident?” Veronika asked, shifting her gaze back from Grid with a hint of disdain. “Although the Swordbreaker Cavalry is the elite of the Azure Dawn Legion, your little girl has no more than over a hundred under my command. Look at those halfling cavalry; their numbers are at least over a battalion (Crusian formation, five hundred men), making it genuinely difficult to eliminate them all.”
For such a question, Brendel merely smiled.
“Rest assured, leave it to me.”
He turned back. Before, he had sent Charles to find Alorze, who should have been back by now. The crowd indeed stirred, as the Crusian people seemed to yield a path to him as if compelled by an invisible force. Shortly after, Charles appeared with Alorze in view, the young dragon looking impatient, glaring at those around her with golden eyes like a wild beast.
“Brendel, you called for me?” Alorze strode through the crowd.
“I heard you’ve been in a bad mood lately, so I’ve found some opponents for you to vent your frustrations on. What do you think?” Brendel answered with a smile.
“Hmph, if you want my help, just say so. If it’s for you, I might consider it,” the young dragon slowly walked through the crowd, and wherever she passed, the warhorses suddenly let out a cry of distress, kneeling down. The herbivores, towering above, all dropped to their knees, while some even convulsed on the ground and died, foaming at the mouth in an instant.
“What did you do to our horses?!”
The Crusian nobles immediately objected. Excellent warhorses in Erluin and Crusian, even in Saint Ausoor and Fanzan, were luxurious items that nobles showed off. A high-bred horse was worth its weight in gold within noble circles, and there were more offered than available since no one would easily sell their prized possession.
But these horses had died simply by a stare from Alorze.
Alorze glanced coldly at those nobles and replied, “Your horses blocked my way; besides, I dislike these filthy things, so keep them away from me.”
“You—!” The noble nearly choked in indignation.
Everyone turned their gaze to Brendel, and Grid seemed to have seized an opportunity, eagerly questioning, “Lord Earl, you had better explain this.”
“You want me to explain?” Brendel found it amusing.
“Enough—” Veronika interrupted, frowning as she felt the situation spiraling out of control. Only then did she vaguely sense something was off about that little girl brought by the Gray Saint; Alorze was exerting not sorcery, but a presence.
Only she had noticed.
“Lady Veronika, please do not overly favor outsiders; aside from myself, everyone else here is your subordinate. You should know better than I what warhorses mean to soldiers,” Grid snorted, answering with some arrogance.
Veronika looked at him as if he were an idiot. “If you’re looking for your own doom, then so be it.”
“What do you mean?”
Grid paused slightly; in his impression, this commander of the Azure Dawn Legion was not one to joke around. He suddenly felt a hint of unease, but it was too late. He suddenly heard a voice say, “What I mean is, a fool like you should not live in this world—” The moment the voice sounded, it was already beside his ear.
“Watch out!”
He heard the sound of knights drawing their swords, involuntarily turning around in shock, but it was too late. A tail as thick as a barrel shot out from somewhere and struck him heavily.
Grid screamed, spitting bl**d as he rolled and flew out, landing on the ice while dragging a conspicuous trail of bl**d.
“Ah!”
“What is happening…” Veronika and Shi Do stared in shock at this sudden change.
They could not help but be astonished, for beneath the sunlight appeared an elegant creature covered in shimmering scales, with a long neck and four-horned head. To be precise, it was a dragon.
A golden dragon.
Alorze perched on the ice field, looking down at all of them. Her massive body was nearly the size of a three-story building, the long neck slightly bent, supporting a head with four horns. Her scales gleamed with platinum brightness, coated in a layer of light purple metallic sheen—a unique color that only an aging giant dragon would possess.
Alorze lowered her head, flames raging in her golden eyes as she surveyed everyone present; a thought echoed in all their minds: by the gods, a dragon! We have lived alongside a dragon for so long!
And the one struggling to rise from the ground, Grid’s face was filled with despair. He finally understood the meaning of Veronika’s words. He felt like the biggest fool in the world, hopelessly foolish.
He wanted to beg for mercy, but a terrifying mental shock had already spread in everyone’s hearts.
At that moment, most individuals felt as if they had fallen into a bottomless abyss where darkness reigned. In this world, there was no sense of touch, smell, or even time and direction—only a horrific scream from the horizon that grew closer, blasting through their eardrums.
Just as Grid clawed himself up from the ground, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees.
Only Veronika could bear it slightly, one hand supporting Shi Do as the scholar girl turned pale. Brendel and Charles, however, were completely unaffected. Yet, witnessing the reactions of others, they understood what was happening.
This was the power inherent to dragons.
Dragon’s might.
“Originally, because of your arrogance, I should have gouged out your eyes and eaten your heart to warn other lowly beings to maintain necessary respect towards dragons. However, you are rather fortunate, for I have no desire to lay my claws upon your filthy body, thus I will spare you this time. You had better not appear before me again; otherwise, I cannot guarantee that I won’t turn you to ashes with a single breath of fire—”
A voice of authority resonated in everyone’s hearts, utterly different from Alorze’s tender and childish tone, as if it came from a dominion queen, vaguely carrying traces of the young dragon’s voice. The first sentence was still at ground level, yet by the end, the dragon had already unfurled its wings and leapt, swirling in the air, with her voice booming across the terrain.
All the warhorses fell to their knees simultaneously.
“Brendel, you owe me another favor.” The young dragon’s voice echoed down from the clouds.
Brendel looked up, only seeing a shadow sweeping over the snowfield, as if darkening the skies. Alorze spread her wings, a terrifying aura radiating far and wide outside the glacier.
That was the might of a dragon.
…
With a crack, Anlek watched a crack appear on the crystal in the hands of his wizard, which quickly shattered into dust. In just under two weeks, this powerful duke had completely changed; his once vibrant image was no more. Hidden beneath a fur cloak, all that remained was a thin, pale face that hardly resembled a human.
Anlek looked as thin as a skeleton, with a face wrapped in wrinkled skin, except for his eyeballs remaining in their dry sockets, staring at the crystal with a glimmer of spirit.
“Lord,” the wizard turned to him and asked with his eyes.
“This is dragon’s might. That stupid dragon has indeed emerged,” Anlek grasped his staff, saying somewhat feverishly, “Let’s go; I know that old woman Veronika is following us. Let her circle about; they are all fools.”
“Master, your health…”
“Shut up.” Anlek cast a cold glance at Dejyar. Although he had grown increasingly emaciated, his authority was even more pronounced, that pressing aura capturing the breath seemed prepared to burst forth at any moment.
Dejyar shivered and quickly fell silent.
“I am not those mortals. Sacrifice is inevitable to gain power. Remember our pursuit; only chaos is the ultimate goal; everything else is a burden,” Anlek replied coldly. “Regarding the foolish pursuit of soft emotions, the ignorant grasping of wealth and power, and the empty vanities of justice—mortals pursue these trivial things; how can they conquer us?”
“Let’s go. The Master has defeated them in Babel; it will be the same now.” He coughed and then slowly stood up.
In the forest, knights cloaked in black robes also stood up. These knights appeared strange and much taller than the average person, resembling some sort of beastmen from the vast plains. But beastmen did not forge armor; their intellect was sufficient to wield only simple weapons.
More strikingly, each knight bore a mark of an ouroboros on their cloak.
…
“Freya?”
“Freya?”
The girl from the Buche countryside was somewhat distracted, recalling the scene that day when Brendel stood in the tent, solemnly asking her the question: “Freya, how do you view war?” The last time he had been so serious was when Braglas told her how to save Buche.
How should she view war? Freya asked herself. She ought to hate war; it had taken everything she once had—her peaceful life, her family, her homeland—all those things she had been familiar with, now lost in flames. Looking back at those memories, all that remained seemed to be deep pain.
“But Erluin can only be saved through war, and in these wars, you will become one of those butchers you once despised.”
“Freya, your enemies are not just Madara; you must understand this. You will k*ll; more people will sacrifice in flames of war, or lose their homes and kin. If you are merely a soldier, you may remain indifferent.”
“But I know your ideals, Freya. Do you truly understand your goal?”
Freya tightened her grip on her sword.
In her daze, she saw bl**d flowing, a battlefield filled with an endless sea of corpses. Among those corpses was Beth’s pure and innocent face, gazing at her with hollow eyes, as if questioning her.
Then she saw that little girl who died at the hands of demons.
Then her kin from Buche.
Freya felt she still lacked an answer within her heart. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. Her senses seemingly returned to her, and she realized that Nemeses had called her several times already.
“Freya.”
“What’s wrong?” The future Valkyrie turned her head.
“Where were you lost in thought?” Nemeses asked, dissatisfied.
“I don’t know…” Freya shook her head blankly. “I think I saw a blue shadow, and then… I don’t know what happened.”
“A blue shadow?” Nemeses reached out to touch her forehead. “Have you been too tired recently?”
“No… I think not. What time is it?” She raised her head and asked.
“See for yourself.” Nemeses handed her a pocket watch. Freya glanced at it, then looked at the Enhol halflings in the distance. “Has there been any news from Brendel?”
“He confirmed with Medisa that it is indeed the person we are looking for.”
“Then…”
“Miss Alorze is already on her way.”
“I understand.”
Freya threw the watch into the snow. Brendel had asked her how to wage war in order to execute this plan, and she knew very well that in order to trap that old fox Anlek, not a single living soul could be left behind. She drew a portion of the Lionheart Sword, pressing the cold blade with her fingertips, feeling a chill in her heart. She was no longer that little girl, understanding what a knight is, what a soldier is.
Although she still did not have a clear answer in her heart, she at least understood that slaughter could not bring peace, but it could at least resolve disputes. Therefore, her answer was very simple, just one sentence: “I understand, Brendel.” At that time, she looked at Brendel, without a hint of hesitation, for the last shred of her reluctance had already been buried alongside Beth in Ampere Seale Port.
She fully drew the Lionheart Sword, the blade glinting coldly. Everyone watching the temporary ‘commander’ reacted, one after another standing up, the knights shedding their cloaks and casting them to the ground. Next, the noble Crusian officers fixed their gaze on Freya, their eyes were a mixture of expectation and intrigue, and Freya glanced at the sword in her hand, commanding, “Descend the slopes from both sides without entering each other’s sight. Follow my orders and cut off the retreat of the Enhol halflings in the snowfield. No one should engage until you see the signal.”
The Crusian people were taken aback, as the air was weighted with silence like falling snow.
“Wait, this contradicts our orders.” Blund questioned immediately, “Are you planning to wait for them to bring in that damned thief and let those halfling cavalry enter the Temple of Winter Sleep? Commander, please allow me to question your intentions.”
“I can understand your doubts.” Freya glanced at Nemeses beside her, steadying her breath before responding, “But the main offensive is not us.”
“Not us?”
“Then who?”
Freya lifted her head to look at the sky. Her gaze crossed over the crystal-like treetops of the pine forest, and the composed Crusian officers noticed her actions and also looked up. The clouds in the distance seemed to stir; the forest that had been filled with various sounds fell silent in an instant, as if an invisible hand had seized its throat. Then the clouds suddenly converged before bursting apart, and a giant shadow roared from above.
Blund gaped, staring at the scene, feeling as if his throat were issuing a seething sound. The Crusian knights were rooted in the forest, as if they had turned into statues, their minds experiencing a tsunami. This was no illusion; the dragon’s might descended from above, and a horrific shriek echoed in everyone’s minds. Only Freya had seen such a sight before, on the battlefield of Ampere Seale, when dark clouds shrouded the sun, and a golden light descended from the clouds, bringing final victory to the war.
She turned her head, “Medisa.”
“Sister Freya, I’m here.” The silver elf princess opened her cloak, loudly asking, “Shall I summon it?”
Freya turned back; the Enhol halflings on the ice field had already spotted the dragon in the sky, causing both people and horses to panic and tumble in confusion, while the more astute among them began to scatter. Freya turned again and nodded at Medisa.
“Knights of Francia, heed my horn!”
Medisa’s hands intertwined with silver threads, weaving a silver horn, and she immediately blew the horn, loudly reciting, “On the plains of Maralde, the blue flag flutters like the sea, the lances of the Franks glitter in the cold light. Knights, listen to the long note of my horn; the spirits of antiquity summon the courage within your hearts. Knights, mount and prepare to depart—” The silver elf’s voice was melodious, like an ancient song. The Crusian knights exchanged gazes, unsure of what Medisa was invoking, but Blund reacted first: “God, this is the Knight Legion of the Silver King!”
No sooner had he spoken than Medisa took a breath and blew the horn a second time.
The horn’s sound was resounding—
Meanwhile, Alorze, at that moment, soared over the treetops, the wind sweeping down from the canopies as she dove toward the distant ice field. But the knights turned back, astonished to see steeds shimmering with ethereal white light, adorned in heavy armor, emerging from the forest. These celestial steeds converged into a silver tide, swiftly coming to their side. A unicorn approached Medisa and affectionately rubbed against the little princess’s cheek. Medisa stroked its long horn and climbed onto the mount. Freya was the second to mount; her warhorse was larger than the rest, its hooves ablaze with silver fire, and it was none other than the legendary steed of the Silver King—Holy Soul.
“Everyone, mount.” Freya commanded. “Remember your mission—”
She turned to look over the plains and let out a soft sigh. “They possess communication crystals; we cannot give them any chances. No prisoners; k*ll everyone.”
As this order was given, Nemeses turned to look at the girl from Buche once more.
Freya furrowed her brow tightly, her gaze still resolute.
…
Kuwoo was once Anlek’s most trusted confidant. This extraordinarily small-headed halfling with oversized ears knew well what earned him this trust—not due to exceptional capability, but because of his unwavering loyalty. His father, a similarly proud halfing, had served the previous Duke Anlek, and their family had such a tradition of loyalty, which Kuwoo prided himself on. However, this time he knew that while past predicaments had been overcome, this might be his last battle.
He tightened his bearskin cloak, clutching the task given to him by the duke—to challenge a dragon. A warrior ought to d*e on the battlefield; this signified rare honor for Kuwoo. The Enhol were the most resilient of the highland folk, the fiercest warriors, and today they would face a dragon, their courage would be remembered on the stones of their homeland. The cold wind was biting, nearly lifting his cloak as the chill sliced into his body, making even these highland-dwelling halflings unbearable. Since this morning, Kuwoo had felt an ominous foreboding; the elders of his clan often said that if a day began unsatisfactory, everything would go wrong. He had broken his water jug that morning—a foreboding sign indeed.
The group trudged across the ice field, hardly making any mileage throughout the entire morning. Kuwoo furrowed his brows; being the most seasoned warrior among his kin, he had been listening to the sounds carried by the wind.
Suddenly, he heard a strange noise.
It was like thunder rolling through the clouds, but not so distinct; it roared with a resonant bass. This low-frequency rumble gradually became clearer, and Kuwoo turned his head, staring in a fervent gaze at the horizon—he finally recognized it; something was flying in the sky—and it must be enormous. If they had indeed drawn that dragon’s attention, then if they perished here, their bl**d would also be an honor.
In just a moment, the massive shadow they had been anticipating appeared against the skyline. It parted the clouds, tearing through the sky in an instant, placing itself directly in Kuwoo’s line of sight. At that moment, all the Enhol halflings noticed their foe and began to scream, with the timid already losing their sanity and starting to scatter in a panic. However, Kuwoo could forgive them; after all, when he had first heard this task, he had also been just as shocked.
He recalled his own reaction at that time and felt somewhat embarrassed; how could he count as a qualified warrior? He pulled out some highland spirits from his pocket, gulping it down, feeling its fiery heat as he wiped his mouth, revealing a frenzied smile. That was enough; he had never expected his subordinates to deal with a dragon, for that was impossible. Yet at the very least, they had fulfilled their mission; that stupid dragon had indeed been lured onto this ice field, allowing the duke’s plan to take shape.
Kuwoo was about to laugh heartily, but before he could let it out, a shadow loomed over his heart.
He saw the dragon’s radiant golden scales—
That was a golden dragon.
“This is impossible—!” Kuwoo’s eyes widened, his face paling as his oversized ears perked almost upright—another dragon! There were two dragons in this snow field! No, he couldn’t contain his panic as he looked around, still holding onto the last flicker of hope. He wished it was a mistake, perhaps a golden dragon resided here, not a frost dragon. Though this thought was highly blasphemous, the halfling leader found himself unable to care about that anymore.
In that instant, a more peculiar sound shattered all his delusions.
It was a call more distant than the dragon’s shriek, echoing from the horizon, lingering in the air. Kuwoo had only heard such a sound once in his lifetime, when he had campaign with Anlek during the holy war, and the dragon horn of the Fanzan army had blown.
“There’s an ambush…”
Kuwoo instantly comprehended what was happening; they had been deceived. He trembled as he reached for the communication crystal, but it was unresponsive. “No… the barrier of the laws.” He nearly groaned, for the enemy had undoubtedly prepared thoroughly. He quickly seized his weapon and shouted, “Quick, flee this area! Scatter and convey the message!”
He lifted his head; the green eyes reflected the ever-growing silhouette of that golden giant, casting a shadow that seemed to symbolize despair.
A beam of golden flame cascaded down from the sky.
…
(PS: 9K word chapter, I won’t split it up. I’ve been quite busy these past couple of days, only getting the chance to update in the evening. I expect to have some free time tomorrow, and then I will continue answering questions in the review section and conveniently resolving previous issues. Additionally, I ask for monthly tickets; it’s been a while since I requested them! Please support with tickets, as your contributions are my greatest motivation.) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, you are welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets; your support means everything to me.)
