Chapter 75: Act 11 – Into the Night
Upon returning to the refugee group, Brendel learned that Tam had been looking for him ever since waking from his coma to thank him for saving him the previous night. He had seen Brendel leaving with Charles and that rider, and had decided to follow, only to coincidentally witness Brendel using forbidden magic.
However, Brendel was not worried that Tam would report him to the Temple of Fire; he believed that this tough middle-aged man didn’t seem like the type, and besides, Tam had no evidence.
What Brendel did not know was that while he was surprised by Tam’s identity, the other man found him equally mysterious. The blood magic circle was something Tam had only seen described in some parchment documents, and he did not actually know how to use the forbidden magic—he had merely inferred from the backlash effects on Brendel that he was using a forbidden technique.
But one had to admit that even so, he guessed right; such keen insight and talent were not something just anyone could possess.
Tam had no prejudice against the forbidden technique itself; after all, which noble didn’t break the rules? The Temple of Fire also strictly prohibited the trafficking and smuggling of slaves, yet in border regions, this filthy business was thriving, and even some clergy members were complicit.
Rather, he hoped to discuss alchemy techniques with this young noble. The middle-aged man thought for a moment before asking, “My lord, what do you wish to create?”
As Brendel remembered that the future alchemy master was addressing him as “my lord,” he couldn’t help feeling a bit elated: “I need to synthesize a batch of soul crystals; the materials are the remains of high-level undead. I will use them to create a soul statue.”
In fact, what he wanted to make was a soul statue of a white deer, a relatively simple type of soul statue that could summon the spirit of a white stag—according to ancient legends of Vaunte, the white deer inhabited an old oak grove, where the tranquil sunlight bathed an island in the middle of the grove, symbolizing a place of rest for souls—thus, white deer are very sensitive to souls, and Brendel intended to use it to sniff out ghosts hidden in the spirit realm.
That might be the first kind of intermediate undead unit they would soon encounter, the most terrifying assassins and spies under the command of necromancers in the dark of night.
“A soul statue?” Tam could hardly believe it. A soul statue was but a simple alchemical product; its only difficulty lay in acquiring the materials. The middle-aged alchemist found it hard to imagine that Brendel would use a forbidden technique to create a soul statue.
“Mr. Tam, you need not be puzzled. It is actually due to the lack of alchemical tools…” Brendel saw through Tam’s confusion and replied.
At this, Tam nearly fell over; the blood alchemy technique was considered a forbidden art largely because of its powerful effects on the battlefield, allowing alchemists to execute in ways that ordinary alchemy could not compare to. However, activating a high-level magic circle with blood alchemy had tremendous backlash effects on oneself.
In the past, during the wars between the forces of Light and the Dark Kingdom, there were alchemists who sacrificed themselves using blood magic circles to summon powerful artifact creatures to turn the tide—but in general, the core of this technique lay in sacrifice, which was entirely contrary to the doctrine of Light, hence it was banned.
Yet this young noble was treating it as a ‘replacement for alchemical tools’; one would think a professional alchemist would carry their tools with them even if it cost them their lives.
“Actually, my lord, I do have tools at hand. If you don’t mind, you can use mine. It’s best not to use such a technique that greatly harms your body,” Tam took a while to respond.
“Of course, I don’t mind. I’ll trouble you then—” With ready-to-use alchemical tools, Brendel certainly wouldn’t foolishly harm himself. Although Holy Water No. 5 wasn’t as potent as Holy Water No. 7, it was a precious potion that could save someone’s life in critical situations.
Being able to reduce alchemical costs, and unexpectedly getting a future alchemy master made Brendel feel good; for the first time in days, he felt a sense of relief, allowing him to easily discuss alchemical techniques while walking with Charles and Tam.
As a wizard apprentice, Charles hadn’t really mastered alchemical skills yet, but he had seen enough from the highland wizard mentors within Karasu Black Tower, who were all alchemy masters, to have considerable experience.
Brendel, possessing level 5 alchemy knowledge, could easily obtain the title of a first-level professional alchemist even if he took the official alchemy exam in Erluin; compared to Tam, who was still lingering outside, he truly appeared more like an alchemical genius.
Their discussions immensely benefited Tam, but the middle-aged man’s somewhat wild ideas also left Brendel startled. He knew that Tam lacked opportunities and an external environment; otherwise, he would one day become the legendary master.
After all, alchemy was an incredibly resource-intensive skill: the intermediate undead necromancer teeth he had used earlier were each worth over three hundred Tor, whether on the black market or wizard’s market.
And he needed thirty of these to create a simple white deer statue.
The three were in discussion when Brendel saw Freya wearily walking along the long line of refugees. What was going on? He hesitated for a moment, then walked over and waved his hand in front of her face without a response. Brendel had no choice but to tap her forehead.
Freya jolted awake and exclaimed, “Wh-what are you doing?” Upon realizing it was Brendel, her face twisted into a teeth-gritting expression. “Brendel! Where have you been? So many people have come, I’m almost overwhelmed!”
Her voice trailed off, sounding less like a complaint and more like a deep sense of grievance. Brendel had tasked her with leading the refugees, and she diligently fulfilled her role, but with the increasing number of refugees throughout the day, she felt on the verge of exhaustion. In fact, like Brendel, she hadn’t slept a wink in days, and compared to Brendel’s absence, her pressure had intensified significantly.
Seeing Brendel and Freya talking, Charles and Tam, with a tacit understanding, took a step back and continued their previous discussion. As for what transpired between the young man and the girl with the long ponytail, they pretended not to see.
As the saying goes, the bystander sees clearly. Brendel was entirely oblivious to Freya’s special dependence on him—while the young wizard apprentice was secretly enjoying the show. Tam, the honest middle-aged alchemist, thought that this young lady was the fiancé of the young noble.
“You haven’t slept at all?”
“With so many people, when would I have the time? Brendel, do you know? It seems the White-maned Swordsmen were defeated. We just received many soldiers retreating from Sharp Stone Valley, and I heard many of them died…” Freya rubbed her eyes, which were as red as a rabbit’s, expressing some discontent.
Brendel was taken aback; this silly girl didn’t manage to take on all the tasks alone, did she? He couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose: “Are you trying to do everything by yourself?”
“What else can I do?” Freya looked at him dumbfounded.
“Isn’t there also Retao and Uncle Mano? If it really comes to it, you could promote a few folks from the refugees, give them some authority, and let them help you, right?” Brendel thought this pony-tailed girl was quite stubborn.
“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner!”
Brendel tapped her forehead: “It’s not my fault; it’s because you’re too dense.”
Freya’s face flushed, and she hurriedly pushed his hand away: “I-I’ll talk to you later—” she turned and ran as if on fire, leaving behind a swift figure. Brendel watched her bouncing ponytail and couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.
“How was it?” As soon as Freya left, Charles came up with a grin.
Brendel lifted the water pouch and paused: “What are you talking about?”
“Freya, she’s a really good girl, kind-hearted and earnestly lovely. Can’t you see it, my lord? She actually likes you.” The young wizard apprentice answered.
Brendel had just taken a gulp of water, and he couldn’t help but spit it out.
“What did you say?”
“I said, Miss Romaine and Miss Freya—this is a huge problem, my lord.”
*
Brendel spent the entire afternoon carving an appropriate container. After all, being his first alchemical work, he was determined to complete the base for the white stag by himself, but after finishing several pieces of fir wood, Brendel soon realized the gap between dreams and reality.
The best product he crafted looked more like a turnip than a stag. Reluctantly, he had to delegate the work to Tam; most professional alchemists were supposed to be skilled in crafts, tailoring, painting, and even forging techniques—of course, except for Brendel, who was an amateur.
Stepping out of the coach, the time was nearing dusk, and the sun gradually sunk below the undulating mountains. The setting sun cast a beautiful bronze hue over the mountains, while the tips of distant fir forests glimmered as if covered in golden powder.
Brendel rested a hand on the coach, gazing at the evening glow in the sky, and couldn’t help but think that if he kept moving westward in that direction, he would eventually reach a mountain that stretched into the clouds—the Karanjar mountain range, a majestic mountain that continued to meander westward, forming a peninsula in the Sea of the Dead Moon.
He remembered that his first long-distance team adventure in the game led along that forest, finally reaching the eastern shore of the Sea of the Dead Moon.
This was the world, so vividly presented before his eyes.
After leaving the coach, Brendel spent some time searching for Romaine, but he couldn’t find where the future Merchant Miss had scurried off to. In fact, she spent the entire day on her ‘own adventure,’ and most of the time, she was nowhere to be seen.
This young lady seemed full of energy, constantly helping out in the refugee line. In fact, her enthusiasm had earned her a reputation among the refugees, and Brendel could hear people discussing “that lady” and “what that lady has done…” as he walked.
He glanced at the sky one last time; it was already getting dark.
Around seven-thirty, Brendel ordered the refugee group to halt in a deep valley; the light was even dimmer in this area, and the mountain walls on either side cast vague, unclear shadows, making it hard to see if anything lurked beneath them. As mist began to rise in the mountains, accompanied by the distant sound of owls, it brought a chilling sensation.
But Brendel knew that it was only in such places that they could avoid the view of the skeletal vultures of Madara soaring in the sky. By nightfall, it would be the time when ghosts emerged.
After settling the refugees, Brendel instructed the self-defense force to gather wood from the nearby hillside; he needed them to quickly make a batch of simple spears to supplement the newly joined members.
His core strength was still the cavalry team led by the peacekeepers and Mano, which had now expanded to over fifty people. Throughout the day, he had taken in mercenaries and White-maned Light Foot soldiers nearing a hundred, and with the civilian militia recruited from the refugees, this number could double.
So now he lacked manpower; what he lacked were weapons—currently, three people were sharing a sword in the self-defense force, which reminded him of the revolutionary predecessors in his own world.
On the other hand, Brendel called Charles to gather some of the leading figures, such as Retao, Mano, Julian, and the new addition, Balthom—these people represented several small circles of strength under his command, and he needed to clarify the plans that had to be executed tonight to avoid any mishaps.
At eight o’clock, the last rays of light sank below the horizon, and the twelve stars of the Witch King’s throne appeared first in the eastern sky.
Brendel stood with these people at the top of the valley, watching below as the refugees were busy setting up camp, and he said, “You’ve all seen today’s situation; the battle in Sharp Stone Valley where the White-maned Army and most of the refugees faced their demise has likely reached most of your ears. Madara’s tactical intention is not just to drive us away; instead, they want to wipe us out so that news of Ridenburg’s fall can be delayed as much as possible…”
“What should we do, my lord? The number of the Undead Army far exceeds ours; our scouts report that they’ve spotted a vast ocean of skeletons to the west. They move slowly during the day, but once night falls, they swarm the mountains,” Mano raised his head to ask.
“And zombies,” another person added.
“Of course, there is a way, but relying on avoidance is impossible. Due to Lukesons’ defeat, the ‘Dead Grubs’ and most of Kabais’s elite have flanked us. We must find a shortcut from the other side.” Brendel replied, “So have any of you heard of the Land of Saintly Bones?”
Everyone fell silent.
(PS. =__= The monthly vote has dropped to third place; it seems unavoidable that it is sliding toward fourth.
The updates have been decent, everyone, I ask for support. Watching the ranking drop is painful.
But it suddenly got much colder today; my hands and feet are almost frozen stiff.) (To be continued. For further chapters, please log in to support the author and read the legitimate version!)
