Chapter 773: Act 127 – Eternal XXVIII
The weapons in the hands of the Minren clashed heavily against the shimmering surface of the Crystal Mass, resembling two shining lines against the horizon. It was a scene unimaginable to ordinary people who had never experienced war; the earth emitted a deafening roar, the sounds of combat like a tsunami, drowning the dying wails of the living, extinguishing fear, hesitation, and all negative emotions. The dust raised by the war obscured the sky, dimming even the dazzling sunlight.
The scene before them was glaringly real.
Yet, history books recorded no such war. Buried beneath the piles of documents in the Bud people’s white ivory towers, covered in dust and webs, there was nothing; in the game, players shared all manner of information, strange rumors on the forums still offered nothing.
The Crystal Mass, a species that players remembered as having originated in the Crystal Jungle, seemed in the game to be a scattered group that had been separated from the main historical storyline. They existed in the world’s rarest corners, appearing only fleetingly during the journeys of explorers; records of them in history were blank — from the emergence of the divine people to the fall of the Babel Fortress, then to the Golden People opening the Second Era for mortals, the rise of the People of Silver, and the flames of Black Iron spreading and burning across the land, the banners of the eagle and the nine-headed serpent rising alongside. Throughout this long history, records by historians and white-robed wizards had dwindled to the monotonous phrases — “They lack intelligence, lack perception, as if they were a kind of crystal-derived lifeform, attacking invaders encroaching upon their territory purely by instinct.”
Players’ understanding originated from this as well, as if the Crystal Mass was designed by the system to be the natural cannon fodder of this bizarre world, merely to add a touch of mystery.
But who could have imagined that, behind history, such a great battle had occurred.
One side of the war was the noble Golden People, the Minren, the founders of the Empire, the ancestors, the servants of the Dark Dragon, once enemies of a world, though hatred could not hide their brilliant bloodline — the golden blood flowing within them promised by the divine people to their descendants. On the other side were the Crystal Mass, a group rare and scattered in Brendel’s imagination, which according to the records of the Sages, should act like beasts following instinct. Yet here, the Crystal Mass formed a well-organized army; they had their own banners, armor, and weapons, strict discipline and organization, equal in scale to the descendants of the divine people they faced.
Brendel realized he might be witnessing another civilization, a strange one, a civilization he had never heard of, isolated behind history.
The civilization of the Crystal Mass.
“Wait, I should have foreseen this…” Brendel suddenly realized that they seemed to subconsciously overlook one thing — when did these lives born from crystals start to appear in the world? Looking back, history remained blank. Yet, from the first line of the Azure Poem that created this world, these tiny lives had already existed.
At this moment, he suddenly remembered the words of Enya: “The master fights alongside that person against the unknown enemies.” The master, referring to Chunximan, that person, the Dark Dragon Odin — and those enemies were the Crystal Mass.
So.
What exactly were they, and where did they come from?
Why did they turn against the Minren, and where did they go after the War of the Saints?
He directed his gaze towards Sibers — this Frost Knight King, the only person present who might answer his questions. Sibers sighed lightly: “Do you understand now, Saint Ausoor?”
Brendel had no idea what this rhetorical question meant; perhaps only the soul of the Queen Wind in his ring could answer. However, the usually confident elven senior sister chose an unusual silence at this moment. After a moment, her voice finally sounded: “Thank you for answering a question that has lingered in my mind, but that doesn’t represent anything. You want to say that Odin and his Earth Army protect this world; however, the Golden People have decayed and fallen not only on one front. Sibers, it isn’t that we rose to resist you; it is that you chose to walk this inevitably doomed path—”
“Thousand—hundred—years—long.”
Brendel frowned, trying to grasp the conversation between the two while feeling confused. Meanwhile, Sibers quietly lamented: “I also understand this, Saint Ausoor. The Knight of Azure opened the Age of Mortals, the stars fell to the earth, forming the land. After that, the disappearance of the Golden People, the scattering of the People of Silver across the land, led to the rise of the Black Iron People. You, along with the Flame King Gilt, established this kingdom. I am not saying it is without meaning; do you remember what I previously said? Justice and injustice are not the point—”
“Sibers, what exactly do you want to say?”
“I just want to say, the failure of the Minren, the establishment of the four kingdoms, my king has long foreseen all of it.”
“That’s impossible!”
“It is possible, Saint Ausoor. You are an elf, and I am a human. Even though I am a Golden Person, I still feel the greed and desires belonging to this body’s past life — that is the source of civilization.” The Frost Knight King, standing on the meadow, had a gleam of soul fire in his eyes, bright and wise, as if piercing through the shackles of time. “The repetition of history over a thousand years has never had exceptions, whether it be humans or elves; dynasties rise and fall, just like that. From the Minren’s dynasty to the Empire of the Crusian, to the small kingdom this young fellow currently inhabits, rise and fall without exception. Power struggles, conspiracies, it has always been like this.”
“Saint Ausoor, what about those mist elves that once followed you?”
The Queen Wind was greatly shaken, and even Brendel felt the turbulence of this elven senior sister’s soul; she no longer spoke a word.
“Then why does Odin still make this choice, was it out of necessity? Then where did those Crystal Mass go after the War of Saints?” Brendel voiced the question that he most wanted an answer to.
“I don’t know.” Sibers’ response was straightforward.
“You don’t know?” Brendel nearly went mad. If you don’t know, then why bring all this up? What is the point?
“This land where the war took place is called Minhel in our language; today, it should be to the east of the Fanzan and Saint Ausoor you are familiar with. I followed my late king across the Altania Mountains to fight against these mysterious enemies. About them, I know no more than you; it’s just that the ancient language I inherited in my blood tells me that they existed long before the Minren. They are our enemies, and this war is long-lasting — but during my era, the war between the Minren and the Crystal Mass lasted only a short time. Five traveling mages like you participated in this war; afterward, I returned with the Shadow Wings Legion to Clover Meadow to suppress the growing uprising within the Empire. That war seemingly became silent not long after.” Sibers recounted.
“Then why are you here, Sibers, since this war has nothing to do with you?” Brendel asked, furrowing his brow.
“Because I was ordered to wait here, waiting for someone who understands the true meaning of ‘fool’ to arrive.” The Frost Knight King stared at Brendel, answering word by word.
Fool.
Brendel recalled his inherited talent from the Dark Dragon, but what did fool ultimately mean? From Sibers’ description at this moment, was it the savior? Or someone with a fervent self-sacrificing spirit? Either way, Brendel felt he did not possess it, nor did he wish to be that way. Aside from the memory of Erluin, perhaps he did not have as close a connection to this world as he imagined. But the question was, why did the Dark Dragon choose him, or was it simply lucky coincidence?
This answer did not hold much weight; perhaps for thousands of years, few could reach the seal stone of the Dark Dragon, very few indeed. But why did Odin not choose Amann? Was it because Amann was the priest of the Temple of Fire? This rationale may not be accurate, as from Sibers’ description, it could be seen that Odin perhaps did not have the prejudices against the four Saints and their descendants as commonly imagined.
“You say I understand the meaning of ‘fool’, but I do not.” Brendel replied cautiously, admitting that he was indeed worried that by responding this way, Sibers would choose to withdraw the Dark Dragon’s inheritance. It must be said that this inheritance was still of great significance to him now. Whether in terms of the immense power itself or the support of the witch behind it, particularly the former, it had helped him defeat strong enemies multiple times, and Baba Shasha and her followers were clearly also a potential formidable support.
No one understood better than Brendel the extent of the witch’s influence and understanding of this world.
But he had to clarify; the vision presented by Sibers exceeded his understanding, making him realize the immense secrets hidden behind this world. The ‘fool’ talent could conceal a great crisis. If Sibers told him that inheriting the fool talent also meant inheriting the responsibility of saving the world, what choice should he make? Brendel felt he did not yet have such capability.
Sibers’ eyes sparkled with the flames of soul for a moment, lingering on his face.
“You will understand.” he replied slowly.
“What?” This answer caught Brendel by surprise; the Frost Knight King was playing a riddle with him, and such a confident tone reminded him of the wrinkled faces beneath the tents of the gypsies. The Minren revered an enigmatic culture, believing that fate was both unknown and certain, with no coincidence, only inevitability. But Brendel — both souls of Sue and Euryn could not accept this answer. If this were a task, then he should have the right to understand everything and make choices, rather than playing hide-and-seek in this labyrinth of language.
If this still took place within the world of the ‘Amber Sword’.
He stared intently at the other, showing a determined look that he would not rest until he got an answer.
But Sibers seemed to have anticipated this: “Fool does not have a fixed meaning; it represents a kind of behavior. I read your past in your eyes, and I believe you are the one that the late king has been waiting for, young man.”
“My past?”
“Some are destined to achieve nothing, while some can consistently strive towards their goals, albeit clumsily repeating laughable failures and not being understood. They may fail, but once they succeed, they will be called a miracle, sung by everyone — most of these individuals became fools in the eyes of the common, their foolishness is not stubbornness, but rather a clearer understanding of what they are doing than others.”
“You mean Odin…”
“I mean you, young man. You know what you want to do.”
Brendel fell silent; he knew very well what he wanted. Perhaps to most, Erluin was teetering amidst a storm, merely repeating the history of a dynasty’s replacement. Decades ago, or a hundred years ago, it too had gone through such history, a decaying dynasty lifting new soil; after the decline of the Siphai royal family, the new crescent of Corvado had risen. But his master had always been the indomitable People of Erluin. Only this time was different; everyone had overlooked the potential enemy to the east, the dark nobles who had acted independently for centuries, now unifying under the singular Mercury Staff. Perhaps forty years later, history would repeat itself, and Erluin belonging to the People of Erluin would cease to exist.
Or perhaps this kingdom merely represented a name with certain significance, but for him, beneath that silver banner lay many familiar corpses — the Princess, the Valkyrie, and the memories and beliefs of fighting alongside many.
Thus, he must be one step ahead.
Foolish?
Perhaps in Antinna’s eyes, in the eyes of the Princess, in the eyes of the Copper Dragon Retao, and in those of all his followers, enemies, and observers, it appeared somewhat strange, just as Kargris still could not comprehend why he always prepared for every eventuality. Even he and Antinna believed that this Lord had greater ambitions — to become a being like the former monarch Eke. Indeed, Brendel wanted to become that kind of being, but his title was not the ruler of this land; rather, it was to lead his people out of thorns and darkness — the Sage.
“Is this… fool?” Brendel muttered to himself.
“It is not limited to this; there is not much I can tell you, but a voice within my blood tells me you will understand all of this. Young man, you, I, and that noble soul in your ring, we are all in search; the world appears to many as an absurd stage, a place of renown filled with scheming and sinister plots, trapping their gaze within a superficial cage — this cage being their desires and thoughts.” The Frost Knight King smiled mysteriously: “But we are not like that. You understand what I am talking about, because this world is not as simple as it seems, is it?”
Brendel shivered.
This world is not as simple as it seems.
He did not know if Sibers was insinuating something, but at least in his view, it was indeed so — for he knew the past and present of this world; it had another name known as the ‘Amber Sword’, a name only he knew. Those who shared that name’s significance with him were now isolated in another world.
“This secret…” Brendel hesitated for a moment and asked, “Is it related to those Crystal Mass?”
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. There is a voice in the dark that tells me the truth hidden behind that war, but I know very little. Lord Odin did not have much to tell me; he sealed his lifetime of knowledge within this inheritance, and he did not force you to choose anything. However, history repeats itself, and what must happen will happen; the War of Saints was nothing less than an accident. If I am not mistaken, turmoil will soon descend upon this world again.”
Brendel said nothing, but he knew that the Frost Knight King’s guess was not far off.
However, history’s repetition may not be destined in any divine sense but rather due to the selfishness and greed that civilization continues to repeat. The imminent war over the slate was precisely a footnote for this.
So ultimately, was it civilization itself that held the fault of existence?
Brendel frowned and shook his head, feeling as though his mind was going to explode. These matters perhaps were not his concern. He exhaled; although he did not understand what Saint Ausoor, Sibers, and Odin truly sought, he at least understood what he pursued, shallow or noble, he would ultimately have to accomplish it, adhering to the stubborn personality he had cultivated in the game.
He looked up, deciding not to play guessing games with this Knight King anymore. In his view, this could very well be the Frost Knight King’s own quirky taste. The Minren revered mystery, carefully playing with their agnosticism, but Brendel had his own way of doing things — he interrupted Sibers’ lengthy speech: “What you mean is, I can only inherit the Dark Dragon’s legacy if I understand all this.”
“No.”
Sibers shook his head: “Actually, the strength you displayed from the very beginning already qualified you to inherit the legacy. I just wanted to tell you everything that transpired behind this war, whether it be the Crusian or the Wind Elves, a calm sleep is far from their time.”
Brendel quietly stared at the Frost Knight King.
His implicit meaning was: ‘Then what was the significance of all those words you said earlier?’
If he were alive, perhaps facing the questioning gaze of Brendel would make anyone feel slightly embarrassed, but Sibers was undead, the thousand years of icy winds had dried his face to the thickness of glaciers, thus he could answer without changing his expression: “Because this is the mission I have waited for here.”
“Then what does it have to do with me?” Brendel countered. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to speak the truth: “I cannot walk down the path of the Dark Dragon. To me, what I inherit is merely his legacy, not his will; I hope you can understand that.”
When Brendel said this, he felt a twinge of approval within his soul.
“Lord Saint Ausoor?” he couldn’t help but feel puzzled.
But the Queen Wind did not respond.
“Are you not afraid I will retract your inheritance, young man?” Sibers’ tone turned cold.
“That’s probably not something you can decide, esteemed Frost Knight King. Although I do not know why Odin chose me, that is my will.” Brendel’s tone became definite; if after such a long time of testing he still did not understand this fellow’s intentions, then he could just go and crash into a wall: “No matter whether you accept it or not, it is still so. I am Brendel, not the Dark Dragon—”
“How very similar in stubbornness.”
The Frost Knight King was slightly taken aback, then chuckled lightly.
A laugh filled with the hollow sounds of the undead.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please come to Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
