Chapter 769: Act 122 – Eternity XXIII
On the steep ice cliff, both sides paused for a moment. Sibers looked down from above, as the cold wind whipped up ice dust behind him, forming a white vortex that seemed eerily still, even time itself freezing. The Frost Knight King from the Age of Saints whispered quietly, “Who am I?” The voice sounded like an echo in the wind; he slowly raised the blood-red dagger in his right hand. The motion was gentle, like a dream, but at the moment he lifted his hand, an invisible wave of energy shot from the sword’s edge, splitting the ice dust as it surged forward, aimed at Medisa in a slightly tilted angle. As it passed, the air swirled behind it due to the turbulence.
“Spiritual Shield!” The Silver Elf Princess furrowed her brow, and with a low shout, a semi-transparent spherical mesh shield appeared in front of her instantly. In an instant, the wind blade reached her, crashing against the shield with a loud bang. The semi-transparent mesh shield flickered wildly as the wind blade pressed against it, distorting and splitting apart, crashing into the ground behind her and leaving two deep gashes nearly ten meters long on the glacier.
Once a warrior reaches the elemental stage, their basic sword techniques gain an extension option — compressing air using skill and strength to form wind blades, attacking enemies within a hundred feet. From that point on, a warrior’s melee attacks could extend into ranged ones. Generally speaking, newly ascended swordsmen in the elemental awakening domain could achieve a range of around a hundred feet with their wind blades, while in the peak stage of elemental awakening, the range would not exceed two hundred feet.
And the distance between Medisa and Sibers was a full hundred meters.
“You are Sibers! How could you be here!?” Medisa looked up, disbelief evident in her voice.
“Ah, I recognize you, little princess—” Sibers slightly raised his head and smiled faintly. “Time—fleeting—what meaning do past memories hold? History, dust, of no value. Who am I, little princess? I am a wandering soul, what a grand feast, whispers carried by the north wind.”
“Sibers, you’ve actually transformed yourself into an undead!?” Medisa gritted her teeth, staring intently at this Frost Knight lord, one of the supreme beings among the Minren. “You’ve fallen so far…”
“Just a boring promise,” Sibers replied nonchalantly. “Not smarter than the trivial matters of mortals, nor more foolish than the worries of sages. Honor, sacrifice, all of no value.”
“Obsession,” Medisa enunciated each word, “Whose promise is it, Dark Dragon? Sibers, you still guard the secrets of the Minren. You know full well that you can never return…”
Sibers glanced at the Silver Elf Princess, his indifferent gaze suggesting that this world was but a speck of dust to him, even the oath he had once guarded held no significance. The past, the future, all were illusions. He suddenly moved the blade that was resting on Peiya’s neck aside, then slowly traced a line in front of him:
“Life, death, this is the boundary. Mortals, retreat. What I guard is too heavy for you. Death, to me, is a straight line, yet to you, it is disappearance and parting. This is the ferry across the river of the dead, while the trivialities of the mortal world still have some color in your eyes, retreat—”
A silence fell.
Sibers, if the name this princess mentioned bore no meaning to the others present, then Brandel’s words were enough to make them understand the weight it carried: “Be careful, he is Sibers Ansu, the Frost Knight lord of the Minren, one of the main orchestrators of the Final War. You Crusians should recognize him. You called him the title of the lone wolf of the heights, the butcher of winter—”
“It’s him!” Veronika, Mephistopheles, and Laurena all changed their expressions. The commander of the azure legion even instinctively drew her sword from its sheath, and Shi Do let out a small yelp, even the Crown Prince, whose expression was often taken for a mask, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. After all, whether friend or foe, Sibers remained a hero of the past era, and his famed time was a turbulent chapter in the history of Vaunte.
To put it bluntly, in front of Sibers, Veronika, Mephistopheles, even children seemed insignificant.
“Medisa, how are you?” Brandel quietly asked.
“Truthfully, at a peak level of reality, I’m unscathed, but that strike of his seemed to be a test…” Medisa extended her right hand, a radiant white light forming a silver long spear in her palm. But she appeared a bit tense. “Lord, Sibers’ strength in life was far beyond this, he—”
“I know.” Brandel interrupted her. “I understand. The key is that you are fine.”
Medisa opened her mouth but didn’t respond, warmth filling her heart slightly.
Brandel raised his head, looking at the Minren lord who towered above them. Once, he wielded power like a tempest, and even now, one could still find meanings of authority and majesty in him.
“Saint Ausoor.” He called out in his heart.
“That Frost Knight King transformed himself into an undead bound by an oath, his strength preserved at most a quarter of what it was in life—no, this being can no longer be considered Sibers, at most it’s merely a shell trapped by obsession. But it must have inherited some abilities of the body from before, and the very act of transformation grants it powers beyond ordinary undead; you’ve seen White Knight Aibodun. Be careful, Brandel, this shell’s strength is far beyond what you see.” Saint Ausoor warned him within his mind.
But then she suddenly fell silent. “Brandel… he seems like he’s discovered me…”
“That’s impossible,” Brandel said in shock. He could hardly believe that anyone could penetrate the realm of thought, even if there was, it wouldn’t be Sibers: “Saint Ausoor, you are—”
“He seems to possess something that can connect with me. Only the dead understand the yearnings of the living, and through that, he sensed my presence…” Saint Ausoor’s voice tightened slightly, interrupting Brandel’s thoughts.
“Something connected?”
“Wait, I understand. It’s the Ring of Queen Wind…” Saint Ausoor gasped in realization. “No, I was mistaken. That thing is not with him; it’s with that young girl!”
“Young girl?” Brandel suddenly grasped, “You mean Peiya?”
Queen Wind nodded slowly.
Brandel raised his head and happened to see Sibers turning toward him. His eyes were golden, but the keen gaze within felt like a sword, sending a chill down Brandel’s spine; this Frost Knight King seemed to have realized something, raising an eyebrow slightly, yet his expression remained indifferent: “What a long dream, the elves of Rosai awakened, the elves of Yalfaheim gathering here today; flames and dust, what you pursue is the ashes of rebirth amidst ruins, mortals, truly blind and ignorant.”
Among everyone present, only Brandel and Saint Ausoor seemed to understand the implications of these words. The mist elves originate from the Whistling Peaks of Rosai, while the silver elves hail from the Sacred Silver Valley of Yalfaheim, representing Medisa and Saint Ausoor respectively, but this was a secret known to only a few. Brandel noticed the Silver Elf Princess turning her head to cast a strange look at him.
Veronika appeared somewhat tense; few had seen this commander tightening her grip on her sword, her whole body taut like a bowstring. Each time Sibers’ undead made a slight movement, she barely restrained herself from springing into action; she even shivered slightly, her reaction understandable. As one of the highest powers in the Cruz Empire, who maintained a good relationship with the Temple of Fire, no one understood better than her what the title of Frost Knight King represented.
Sibers had once personally confronted the Flame King Gilt, who had narrowly escaped with his life, as recorded in the Song of Dawn. You read that correctly, it was the Flame King who had been lucky to escape. As one of the strongest of the nine Minren lords under the Dark Dragon Odin, Sibers had historically been one of the most difficult enemies of the four Saints.
Yet Sibers merely gave her a glance.
“Young girl, do you understand what it means in our tradition to point a weapon at a stranger?” The knight’s undead smiled disinterestedly and asked softly.
“Sibers, I am a descendant of Flame King Gilt, and you and I are enemies, you should understand my pride—” Veronika took a breath, answering in a low voice.
“I understand your pride.” Sibers nodded. “Eagle-like pride should soar in the sky, not slink in the shadows. You are a Crusian, and I give you the chance to challenge me.” With that, he sheathed the Soul-Claiming Blade Fingers and handed the Frost Song wielder Xina to his right hand, raising his sword.
“Come, challenge me, like your ancestors did a thousand years ago. Honor, loyalty, of no value, but that is your choice.”
“Commander!”
“Commander!” Shi Do and Laurena spoke simultaneously. They understood this commander’s temperament; if she was determined, she might truly engage in a death struggle with this terrifying undead today. Veronika raised her hand to stop her two subordinates, replying, “Shi Do, Laurena, remember, the Minren are always the enemies of the civilized world. We are descendants of the Flame King; we have no right to forgive them—”
As Veronika raised her long sword, Brandel was deeply engrossed in a heated discussion with Saint Ausoor.
“Brandel, what are you trying to do?”
“I think we don’t necessarily have to fight him.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“Just wait and see.”
Brandel raised his head, suddenly calling out to Veronika: “Wait.”
He turned back to face Sibers, calling loudly, “I know who you are, Frost Knight King. I even understand why you are waiting here. A thousand years have passed, Sibers, it’s time. I know who you are waiting for. Sibers, the legacy from beneath the dark abyss has returned; step aside, we are not mortals; open the gates of your treasure vault—”
Sibers appeared slightly taken aback.
He lowered his head.
……(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please come to Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendations and monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
