Chapter 76: Act 12 – The Relics of the Saint
“Land of the Saint’s Remains?”
It is said that in the era of the sages, the ancestors carved out a sanctuary in the valley, with statues of ancient kings at the mouth of the valley. Any dark creatures attempting to enter would provoke a lightning strike—dark powers within a kilometer radius would be suppressed to a minimum.
Then, during the tumultuous era of darkness, humans, elves, and dwarves emerged from the sanctuary, led by the Knight of Azure, to defeat the Duskgazer Dragon ‘Calamity,’ marking the beginning of the chaotic years.
“It is the Legacy of the Saint, the guardian valley of kings, Your Highness,” Overwell replied.
“Did he really find such a place?” Black Tea had already switched cups, but the princess had not focused on it. Even her favorite gold-trimmed white porcelain teacup had been neglected; her slender fingers only absentmindedly stirred with the silver spoon.
“That young man must have known beforehand, but he is not clear on the general location,” Overwell answered.
“However, his method of finding a path is rather clever; Your Highness should have heard—Burnoson’s Witch King inherits the powers of fate and stars through generations, and the Grand Wizard of the Council, Bud, also holds a belief that there is a power of the stars and fate, originating from the blind goddess Ylian.”
“I thought such stories belonged in myths.”
“Not necessarily.”
“May I continue listening?”
“But Your Highness, your court tutor, Sir Parnoson, must be waiting for you.”
The maiden smiled cunningly, “I’m already late, Lord Overwell. So please, go on, I want to hear how they get through this night.”
Overwell smiled back, having anticipated this, and continued, “Then our story begins with a legend, about a king and a white stag.”
The sky had completely darkened; as night fell, the wind swept across the layers of clouds, making the undulating fir forest produce rustling sounds like waves of the sea.
Freya, with a worried expression, stared at the dark sky. The wind tangled her hair as she grasped the hand of her dearest companion, unable to help but whisper, “Does Brendel really have this under control? They talk of the Land of the Saint’s Remains, yet even Retao, Uncle Mano, and the others from here have never heard of such a place—”
“Don’t worry, Brendel will be just fine,” the Merchant Miss replied, looking at the stars beyond the clouds.
“You haven’t even thought about it.”
“Of course not.”
Talking to a woman with a blank mind made Freya quite frustrated, yet she quickly realized her own tension seemed to dissipate. She couldn’t help but think that there was something about Romaine and Brendel that shared a similar quality, which made others feel at ease.
Yet, Brendel was calm and confident while Romaine was carefree; the ponytailed maiden suddenly felt unsure of what she would do without them by her side when difficulties arose.
At that moment, an exclamation erupted among the refugees. Freya and Romaine turned, only to incredulously see a breathtakingly beautiful creature appear in the center of the camp—a fully transparent white stag—its body displayed the perfect proportions of such an elegant and noble being, with long limbs, a robust body, and antlers like sharp blades.
This creature seemed to belong to a realm beyond this world. It leaped up onto a rock, surrounded by sparkling lights that danced like fireflies around its body.
Not just them, even Retao, Mano, and Balthom stood up, captivated. Farther away, Brendel held the stag’s base and stood with the Alchemist Tam, watching as the stag leapt onto the rock, nodded at them, and then dashed away.
“The product has some minor flaws, but given the limited conditions, achieving this has been remarkable,” Brendel said, feeling quite satisfied with his first alchemical creation.
Charles and Tam expressed similar opinions, though the young wizard attendant asked, “Lord, how much of the truth is there to the King’s Guardian Valley?”
“You know about that?” Brendel was taken aback.
“Of course, ancient knowledge is a mandatory course for wizards; many magical schools originated from the era of sages.”
“I can guarantee its authenticity, but that valley is shrouded in mist, and the location is uncertain. I can only hope that Lady Ylian lends us a helping hand tonight, so my precious stag can find its way faster.”
Brendel thought to himself that indeed, the Land of the Saint’s Remains was very famous in the game, with countless people having visited, and more speculating that it might hide a great secret—only no one had ever obtained anything from it. He had been there himself, but his findings were the same as everyone else’s.
That is, they found nothing—
“Helping hand?” Tam asked.
“That is to see if Lady Ylian favors us,” Brendel replied.
“What if she does not favor us?” Charles turned back.
Brendel did not answer this time; at least three to six thousand skeletons and zombies followed behind him, with ‘death worms’ and Cabais’ elite troops ahead, as well as wraiths roaming in the mountains and forests, which meant the night might turn out to be troublesome.
He saw the white stag eliciting cheers among the refugees, then it ran away to the other end of the valley, and Brendel knew the adventure of the night had begun—
He checked the time; it was eleven o’clock.
He ordered the refugees to strike camp and move out, with the self-defense corps holding spears marching parallel to the refugees, two dark lines stretching along the valley, illuminated by the stars and moonlight, thus not needing torches.
Finally, there were a little over fifty riders at the rear. Brendel and Charles mounted their horses, then drew their swords, the sword spine of the Azure Light emitting a dim glow—indicating no undead were nearby.
“Let them follow the white stag; it will bring us good fortune—!” Brendel gripped his sword and turned his horse to address all his knights.
Mano rode up, a horse length behind, and loudly asked, “My lord, can we really get ahead of that Marauder army through this valley?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not doubting you, my lord; it just sounds a bit far-fetched.”
“That is true, but right now, you only need to trust me. I won’t joke with my life—”
“What about the undead army ahead—there are at least three Marauder battalions wandering in the hills to the north, some have closed in from the Sharpstone Valley, others from the Hunting Deer Forest side. I suspect they are the advance troops of the White Knight and the ‘Corpse Fiend,’” an officer from the White Mane Swordsman Battalion asked—Brendel recognized him; Lukesons referred to him as Votalon.
He had once crossed swords with this man in Ridenburg; he remembered knocking him off his feet with his sword, though he might be mistaken, or perhaps it was with two others. The situation at that time had been too chaotic.
This officer seemed to hold a deep grudge against him, and although he acknowledged Brendel’s swordsmanship, he always came out to contest him tactically.
“Besides, we have the ‘death worms’ led by Magus pursuing from behind,” the officer continued. “Confronting them head-on will spell our doom.”
Brendel looked at him; he truly needed an officer from the White Mane Swordsman Battalion to impose discipline among the soldiers from that faction, so he was not angry, only replying, “They will always have vulnerabilities.”
“What vulnerabilities?” Votalon asked, gripping the reins.
Brendel certainly would not reveal the secret of the gargoyle to him. Some among them knew he had control over that monster, but they did not know what he could do with it.
“We’ll go around behind the ‘death worms’; in half an hour at most, they’ll pass by here,” he mused, suddenly struck with an idea.
Everyone fell silent, even those mercenaries who had begun to trust him couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was crazy.
But Retao said, “Good plan, if the opportunity can be seized.”
Brendel was surprised and turned to regard this bold fellow; this was not a typical kind of bravery. He had only done so once in the game—slipping through the gaps in the enemy’s blockade, possibly breaking through one or two companies, and then quietly sneaking past another company from behind—such a move was not impossible, but required great control over the battle situation, and the ability to suppress the enemy’s ‘eyes.’
Even with his confidence, Brendel had merely spoken offhandedly, never expecting Retao would notice the opportunity and dare to take a gamble.
Everyone froze again. But this time, it was Mano who spoke up, finally catching on, “Alright, then I’ll bet on it too—”
But leading a thousand or two thousand refugees through enemy territory with a maneuver?
Aside from Mano, Retao, and Brendel, others, including Freya, thought the three of them might be insane. Yet Brendel remained calm; he looked at the gargoyles in the sky, fully aware of his greatest support.
The ‘death worms’ under Magus had realized since that morning that another group of refugees was heading towards the direction of the Silver Sparrow Mountains. They had entered before dawn and even taken out a squad of his skeleton cavalry.
Initially, he hadn’t paid much attention, as most refugees had scattered into the Hunting Deer Hills, while the batch with the White Mane Swordsman Battalion was the core of the day’s actions for him and Cabais.
Humans were truly fragile.
To him, the battle was as easy as expected, the White Mane Battalion claimed to be Erluin’s regular army, yet they proved no more resilient than dry leaves in the face of the Marauder army; the day was spent tailing them and finally landing a fatal blow—by sundown, the entire battle was over.
Though the advance party suffered heavy losses, they were merely cannon fodder; the ghouls and Cabais’ skeleton cavalry had hardly any losses.
In contrast, it was the battle from the previous night that pained him. Over forty skeleton cavalry; it took a long time to accumulate that many.
Only then did Magus turn his attention to this group of refugees. Lord Tagus had given them strict orders to seal off the Sharpstone Valley, reminding every participating force not to be careless.
However, he immediately sensed an unusual aura.
The opposing side seemed exceptionally adept at avoiding the surveillance of his underlings— the skeletal vultures—during the day; all throughout, they had only spotted that group a few times, and in the end, they lost track of them.
This was not a good sign.
Under the dim fire of soul, Magus spread out a sheepskin map and circled a few areas within the range of the Silver Sparrow Mountains——
…
(PS. As expected, three updates have been achieved.
But where are everyone’s tickets?) (To be continued; for what happens next, please log in, more chapters await, support the author, support genuine reading!)
