Chapter 812: Act 161 – The Seraphic Winged Messenger
Brendel was naturally overjoyed at the sudden appearance of Charles and Himelam, but for Dark Kehua, the situation was not so optimistic. In fact, things looked grim for her; aside from Brendel, both Mephistopheles and Veronika were extremely adept at wide-range damage swordsmanship. Even with the magical protection of the pipes beneath the platform, it would only hold them off for a short while, and it was visibly diminishing at a rapid rate. In a matter of moments, it had lost a third of its integrity.
At this moment, Charles and Himelam, who were slowly floating down the cliff, were genuine spellcasters. Spellcasters—whether elementalist, law wizard, witch, or summoner—were all masters of area attacks. Even clerics, priests, and oracles, who were divine spellcasters, were at least far more specialized in this area than warriors.
After a series of battles, particularly after sharing the massive experience from the fight between Mein and Mel, Charles and Himelam had reached level thirty-nine, effectively entering the early golden tier. While they hadn’t yet reached their peak levels, they were still more than sufficient to handle the pipes. Coupled with Rainwright, a true golden-tier combatant, alongside the half spellcaster Shi Do, even if they were only providing remote support, Dark Kehua’s defenses were quickly becoming precarious.
Seeing the situation deteriorate, she became anxious and shouted, “Sister, are you just going to watch as outsiders deal with me?”
Everyone felt a chill, especially Shi Do and the others, who quickly turned to look at Kehua. However, she furrowed her brow and shook her head, replying, “I won’t participate in the battle; that’s not what I aspire to. Sister, give up on your unrealistic dreams. The deities no longer belong to this world. I know you wish for dusk to fall early, but dusk is still dusk; it represents the eternal uniformity of the chaotic sea. It doesn’t care if it comes early or late; this is an unchanging truth.”
“Let me be revived; isn’t that someone’s choice?”
“Mortals are always so presumptuous. I merely inherit Milos’s will, to teach them a lesson,” two voices replied. Dark Kehua gritted her teeth and sneered, “Of course, I welcome this. Milos wants to ensure that when deities are revived, the world returns to the classical order. And I simply wish to taste the flavor of destruction; our needs do not contradict each other.”
“But many others do not wish to see the deities revived; you cannot let them choose one over the other,” Kehua replied.
Dark Kehua was left speechless. “Forget it, I won’t argue with you about these meaningless matters. Besides, I never expected you to stand with me. Just watch and see how I deal with these vermin.”
Brendel landed steadily on one of the pipes. He had already known Kehua would have a counterattack; a boss battle could not be that simple, especially since this was a hidden boss—by the game’s terminology, they still hadn’t even passed the ‘first phase’ of the boss fight. He steadied the tip of the Earth Sword between his feet, pressing down with both hands, and then lifted his gaze to the newly emerged “Goddess” at the center of the platform.
“Teacher Brendel, watch your head!”
Haruz’s youthful voice came from above. Rainwright had asked him to help monitor the surroundings, and at this moment it proved useful. But what he saw was not the black-robed knight of the Everything Returns Society but rather dozens of heavy constructs descending from the sky. The light above the platform dimmed slightly as thirty-two armored constructs, wielding double-headed greatswords, with pairs of wings comprising six glowing feathers each, slowly descended in a circular formation.
The Seraphic Winged Messengers.
This kind of thing—
“Drive them away!” Dark Kehua’s voice echoed through the hall. “But do not kill them. I want them to witness how this era’s order comes to an end!”
Underneath the helmets of the thirty-two constructs, red light flickered. The wings of the constructs flared brightly, and as their formation shifted, the perfect arc in midair shattered at once. All the Seraphic Winged Messengers flew in four directions simultaneously, tracing countless intertwining spirals in the air. These godly weapons from ancient times screeched down towards each person in the hall.
The first target was, of course, Mephistopheles, positioned in the upper reaches of the hall. Seven Seraphic Winged Messengers locked onto him, but the Gray Saint, who had crossed into the ultimate realm, disregarded these artificial constructs. Even Hazell, the pinnacle of magical engineering in Vaunte, could only design constructs that reached elemental awakening standards at best.
The Hazell people could use numbers to overwhelm the Temple of Fire, but seven elementally awakened constructs were merely flies that could be obliterated with a flick of the hand for the Gray Saint.
He calmly looked up, seeing all seven Seraphic Winged Messengers in view. From this moment on, within a three-hundred-sixty-degree radius around him, and everything was within his attack range—he raised his sword, holding it vertically, with one blade facing him and the other pointing at the Seraphic Winged Messengers, as if dividing two realms—one still, one in motion. The Gray Saint remained motionless, then lightly swung his sword at one of the Seraphic Winged Messengers.
With a clash that resembled the sound of shattering metal, the Seraphic Winged Messenger unexpectedly disintegrated in midair. To say there was no sign would not be entirely correct; a keen observer could see that a gray line first appeared on the construct’s armor. Following that line, it split in two, then fractured again, ultimately breaking into four, then eight, until it shattered into a cloud of gray dust, dissipating into the air.
Even Brendel couldn’t help but inwardly admire the scene. The most famous sword techniques of the Amber Sword possessed a captivating beauty when executed.
It was just unfortunate that this sword technique required gray elements as a base, and he couldn’t learn it even if he wanted.
Meanwhile, Mephistopheles slashed at a second Seraphic Winged Messenger, but this time he miscalculated. The construct wielding the double-headed sword halted in midair, then executed a horizontal roll. A gray ripple sliced through its left arm and shoulder, and in an instant, the entire left half of that Seraphic Winged Messenger exploded into dust, unable to even maintain its grip on the double-headed greatsword, which plummeted into the abyss.
Mephistopheles was slightly taken aback.
But this was the inherent trait of godly beings; similar beings shared memory and experience and could rapidly evolve in battle, sometimes even becoming more formidable than players in terms of skill. Brendel didn’t plan to remind Mephistopheles; after all, he was his teacher, and moreover, the seven Seraphic Winged Messengers should pose no problem for him. The key was that he noticed another seven Seraphic Winged Messengers simultaneously flying towards Veronika, while on the other side, a full twelve were coming at him.
The hatred Dark Kehua bore for him became evident.
Brendel could only shake his head and smile wryly.
“Teacher, watch out!” The Prince Younger couldn’t help but loudly remind him. He saw that twelve Seraphic Winged Messengers surrounded Brendel, tightening his grip on the sword sheathed in Lion’s Tooth, his face paling.
Rainwright also looked in that direction, pondering briefly before drawing his white longbow—this bow, named Tranquil Distance, was a renowned artifact in Cruz’s royal collection. The Crown Prince pulled the bowstring taut, forming an arrow of air without an actual arrow, and aimed it in Brendel’s direction, preparing to draw a couple of constructs over for assistance.
But Kehua seemed to see through everyone’s thoughts. Before Rainwright could release the arrow, the entrance dimmed, and a Seraphic Winged Messenger appeared right in front of him.
That thing emitted a buzz, raising its double-headed greatsword directly towards them.
Shi Do screamed in fright, covering her head, while Rainwright squinted and released the bowstring, shooting an arrow that pierced through the dark expanse beneath the visor of the Seraphic Winged Messenger.
Meanwhile, across the battleground, three Seraphic Winged Messengers targeted Charles, while two blocked Himelam’s path, as a chaotic melee slowly commenced. As Brendel watched twelve Seraphic Winged Messengers dive towards him from all directions, he felt a surge of tension; he hadn’t faced these constructs in a long time. Yet the Seraphic Winged Messengers of this era couldn’t compare to those of the past; excitement welled within him—his warrior blood felt like it was igniting deep within.
Come on! Brendel flashed a grin, resembling a predator ready to pounce.
The first Seraphic Winged Messenger closed in instantly, extending one blade of its double-headed sword, determined to skim past Brendel using its diving speed. But in its spherical field of vision, its target suddenly vanished. The Seraphic Winged Messenger reacted swiftly; although it continued forward due to inertia, it turned in midair, swinging the double-headed sword behind it, but it only struck air.
Beneath its helmet, a red light flickered as it looked up, seemingly surprised, as a dark blade approached.
With a slicing sound akin to breaking glass, the blade of the Earth Sword sliced through the helmet of the Seraphic Winged Messenger, cleaving its head in two and erupting in a burst of magical light before continuing downward, bisecting its body along the spine. All the other Seraphic Winged Messengers witnessed this scene—at the moment Brendel descended upon their kind, the remaining eleven rapidly altered course and buzzed toward him. Simultaneously, red beams of light shot out from beneath their helmets, aiming directly at Brendel.
Three beams missed, but the remaining eight struck him in the head, chest, thigh, and left arm. However, such attacks were meaningless—Brendel had yet to withdraw his sword from the first Seraphic Winged Messenger’s body when his figure appeared behind the second, third, and fourth constructs.
The second Seraphic Winged Messenger was penetrated through the heart before it could even react, dropping into the abyss. The third Seraphic Winged Messenger barely turned its head when Brendel reached out, pressing down on its helmet—a blast of flame erupted from Bahamut’s blessing, causing the construct to shudder. Seizing the opportunity, Brendel slashed his sword into its throat, twisting the hilt around, and the unfortunate Seraphic Winged Messenger was decapitated; Brendel sent its head flying, colliding with another Seraphic Winged Messenger not far away, producing a crisp sound.
Drawn by the motion, that Seraphic Winged Messenger lifted its double-headed greatsword, spinning it in a complete arc before striking down towards Brendel. The blade sliced down from his shoulder, and in the next moment, his figure twisted and vanished.
By that time, Brendel had already engaged the fourth Seraphic Winged Messenger, but this time it evaded his initial strike, leaving Brendel to miss. Brendel watched, excitement coursing through him, as the divine construct learned to become more formidable; as of now, twenty-three Seraphic Winged Messengers still remained, with Brendel and Mephistopheles having taken down three each, Veronika two, and Charles one. Yet, Brendel understood that each of the remaining Seraphic Winged Messengers was significantly stronger than their predecessors.
But that fact didn’t faze Brendel.
If the Seraphic Winged Messengers had the capacity for thought, they would certainly realize that Brendel seemed to have their attack patterns figured out. The fourth Seraphic Winged Messenger counterattacked but was astonished to find that Brendel had anticipated its move; he easily sidestepped it—mockery was deeply etched in its sight as a metal-gloved hand suddenly appeared on its path of attack—“snapping,” it caught its wrist.
Before the Seraphic Winged Messenger could recover, it felt itself lifted off the ground and then slammed heavily into something.
Brendel executed a shoulder throw, crashing two Seraphic Winged Messengers together and dispatching them in one motion.
At that moment, Mephistopheles eliminated another Seraphic Winged Messenger, meaning Brendel’s kill rate had now surpassed everyone else in the vicinity.
Rainwright finally managed to dispatch their only opponent, visibly tense, his chest heaving heavily. Shi Do gazed at the strange construct tumbling from the entrance, breathing deeply. The notebook she held bore a deep cut; had it not been for the thick notebook, she might have been lying in a pool of blood. However, compared with that, she would have preferred to be in a pool of blood as she looked at her hard-earned notes, nearly brought to tears.
But Haruz was even more anxious than the two. Covered in icy fragments, he hastily got up and ran towards the entrance as if fearing for his teacher’s life against those monsters—he had witnessed how formidable they were, realizing that even with Charles, Shi Do, and himself, they had barely managed to defeat one.
Yet when he looked down at the platform, he was astonished to find that the battle was entirely different from what he had imagined.
Brendel had also been injured.
But that injury had been exchanged for three Seraphic Winged Messengers—blood gushed from his right hand, coursing down the sword hilt, trickling around the guard and down the dark blade of the Earth Sword. Yet beside him, the originally twelve Seraphic Winged Messengers lay in disarray; only five remained, shakily hovering in the air, intermittently launching attacks.
At that moment, Brendel had completely immersed himself in past battle memories; the instincts of a player had seemingly returned to him—he was no longer a traveling mage but a true battle-hardened warrior. His attacks didn’t merely rely on swordsmanship; the player’s attacks pursued outcomes instead of focusing on process. Haruz gaped in astonishment; he saw his teacher completely abandon defense, darting towards one Seraphic Winged Messenger like a meteor. The construct thrust its double-headed sword at him, both moving at such speed that Prince Younger nearly believed his teacher would be injured. But Brendel seemed to have anticipated this, sidestepping just in time, allowing the construct’s strike to miss entirely as his sword seamlessly plunged into its chest, producing a screech resembling a gear breaking.
At this moment, the remaining Seraphic Winged Messengers indeed closed in, yet Haruz watched as his teacher didn’t even glance back. Instead, he executed an unexpected punch, striking the side of the Seraphic Winged Messenger’s helmet that connected with its cheek. The force was so great it nearly caved in its entire head. Under Prince Younger’s astonished gaze, the peculiar mechanical construct toppled backward, starting from its head, followed by its body.
Brendel’s punch must have hurt immensely; Haruz squinted, seeing the construct’s head twisted grotesquely, as though its inner gears had been ejected.
Haruz understood swordsmanship himself and estimated that the strange mechanical being did not have no contingency; it had anticipated Brendel’s blade—but it never expected to be felled by his bare fists.
“Teacher… truly…”
Haruz swallowed hard, amazed. Although Brendel taught him swordsmanship, he had never witnessed his teacher in a rage. From what he heard from his sister, this lord earl seemed to be a distinguished summoner, but he never imagined—his swordsmanship was like this.
The King of Erluin stared blankly at the entrance; for a moment, he found it hard to accept, yet another moment revved with excitement brewed within him—this was the battle he envisioned.
