Chapter 86: Act 22 – The Knight of the Past (Part 2)
Aibodun raised his head, momentarily stunned.
Brendel seized this opportunity to leap up from the rubble, his figure like a towering shadow, leaving behind a series of discontinuous afterimages that seemed to cross the distance of more than ten meters in the blink of an eye.
Aibodun immediately realized that he could not capture the trajectory of his opponent’s advance—this surge in speed allowed Brendel to possess a dexterity of 44 power levels in that instant, like the wind, or perhaps a gust of wind; the undead knight, covered in pure white armor, had just turned his head—but Brendel was already behind him.
Aibodun guessed this was a terrifying speed burst technique; in fact, he had witnessed it once at the beginning of the battle. However, experiencing it firsthand was different.
This young man is not simple.
The pale tooth of the ‘White Knight’ drew from its sheath in an instant, instinctively parrying Brendel’s elven sword with a clang.
This strike had departed from the realm of swordsmanship.
Both sides were relying on experience to fight.
But having missed his first strike, Brendel gracefully retreated; he still had one second, like a specter slipping past Aibodun’s line of sight, aiming a thrust towards the left chest of this white knight.
However, Aibodun immediately countered, sweeping Brendel’s sword aside, not letting a single flaw slip through—
“Truly a tough opponent,” Brendel bit his teeth, covered in injuries.
But this time it was the undead knight’s expression that changed; he suddenly felt Brendel split into two, one on the left and one on the right, flanking him—what was this, a projection technique? A combination of magic and martial arts?
Aibodun sensed a threat behind him and turned to attack, but to his dismay, he saw a gargoyle split in half under his sword, rolling away in the distance.
That moment felt like a slow-motion scene stretched infinitely. In the flames of the soul burning in his eyes, the scattered gargoyle slowly disassembled and crumbled, and the undead knight immediately felt that something was amiss.
Brendel was already striking from the other side; this was his last thrust in the burst of charge—power unleashed, White Crow swordsmanship.
It was at this moment that the ‘White Knight’ Aibodun lowered his sword; the nightmarish warhorse he sat upon immediately collapsed under him, dying in an instant—then a massive force erupted outward, instantly propelling Brendel, along with his sword, away from the air, not giving him a chance to resist.
The Wall of Will!
Brendel had anticipated Aibodun, having been a high-ranking knight in life, would have certainly learned the halo tactics of the Sun Knight ‘Egregenson,’ but he still held a glimmer of hope. However, Aibodun’s reaction pushed him into despair. Seizing the opportunity, he gritted his teeth, retreated seven or eight steps, and then rushed forward again.
At this moment, ‘White Knight’ Aibodun had just stood up from the ground, but this gap was enough for him to counterattack.
He threw his pure white cape behind him, stepping forward coldly, swinging the Pale Tooth ‘bang, bang, bang’ as it connected with Brendel’s sword three times, each strike making Brendel stagger backward, pain wracking his chest as he nearly coughed up blood.
At this moment, Retao and Mano had finally extricated themselves from the entanglement with the skeleton soldiers; seeing what was happening, they immediately turned their horses toward this direction—
“Erluin.”
Aibodun coldly observed that Brendel’s defense had nearly collapsed, raising his sword one last time. The pale fire in his eyes, cold as frost, nearly froze:
“It is too old now.”
With one thrust.
But at that moment, Brendel revealed a smile; he loosened his left hand from the elven sword, raising it to block and then press down on Aibodun’s Pale Tooth—
The resilient leather gloves initially emitted a blue glow but were pierced in an instant.
Brendel’s smile faded; he pressed down the sword with a calm face—his protective gloves combusted in an instant due to magical overload.
Yet the sword continued downward, leaving a wound on his palm. It then broke through his chain mail, the shattered metal rings falling like cut wooden pieces, and the snake-like sword swiftly burrowed into the young man’s abdomen.
Blood splattered starkly as if it were a bottle of aged red wine—
But Aibodun at this moment did not see victory.
What he saw was Brendel gripping his bony right hand with his bloody left hand, slowly—but forcefully—keeping the Pale Tooth in a piercing state. Then he raised his right hand, holding the elven sword.
In the eye sockets of the undead knight, burning with frost-colored flames, was reflected another sword aflame with bright silver holy fire.
‘The sword born from light chills the hearts of many foes’
The elven inscription was engraved on the sword—
Then.
With one thrust forward.
Aibodun extended his left hand to block, but the pure fire on the sword instantly burned through his bony palm, then erupted from the other side, piercing through his chest.
Two swords linked the two knights together.
In that moment, only the sound of cold wind passing through the valley could be heard.
…
“I told you,” Brendel replied weakly, “Old man, you overlooked one thing…”
“You think you’ve won, young man?” Aibodun’s voice came cold and hoarse, as if echoing from another world.
He felt his chest ablaze, the pain akin to a torment, but Aibodun knew that this did not constitute a fatal injury for him. Of course, a long period of rest would be necessary after this battle.
“No, it’s just…”
“Although Erluin is old…”
“But there are still those who love it.”
Brendel could not help but exhale painfully; the ‘White Knight’ was waiting for this opportunity.
Both drew their swords simultaneously, attacking once more; the young man tilted to the left, letting Aibodun’s sword bite into his right lung. But at the same time, the raised elven sword severed the undead knight’s entire left arm, sending it flying.
Then both retreated at the same time.
Brendel immediately collapsed to the ground, coughing loudly; he felt his lungs burning with pain, a sensation he had never experienced in the game—but he had gone through it once in Buche.
The ‘Indomitable’ talent had activated; he bore the waves of pain with his sword propped on the ground and stood up.
But Aibodun had already risen first; his injuries were significantly lighter than Brendel’s. While he admired the resilience and tenacity of this young man, at this moment the undead knight needed victory even more.
He stumbled slightly in the rubble; having lost his left hand, he found it somewhat difficult to maintain balance, yet compared to Brendel, who had to kneel again after standing, he was much better off.
Aibodun glanced to the left—Retao and Mano were just a breath away from joining the fray. He seized the moment to raise the Pale Tooth, charging once more at Brendel.
But this time he suddenly saw a flash of golden light at the ridge.
It was no illusion.
Almost everyone who looked up saw that golden-red, blinding ray. It shot out from the ring in Freya’s hand, piercing straight toward ‘White Knight’ Aibodun.
But from Aibodun’s perspective, it wasn’t a straight line at all; it appeared to him as a rolling fireball charging toward him.
Due to the speed, the afterimage left in the night created the illusion of a golden-red fire line—
“Flame——!” Then Freya’s bright voice echoed through the valley.
Aibodun immediately raised his sword, but it was still a moment too late. The flames hit the tip of his sword, exploding into a fireball in an instant, the shockwave already spreading beyond the flames—
First, a visible shockwave instantly expanded along the ground of the entire valley, causing everyone’s hair to fly back in an instant, fir trees to topple, and needles swirling up into the night sky.
Then countless fragments rushed past the hooves of Retao and Mano in the distance, startling the beasts to rise up high in fright.
But the dazzling fireball existed only for an instant in everyone’s view; then all light sources dimmed, as if the entire night had darkened further, compelling people to turn their heads back, feeling around them in pitch blackness.
Only Brendel, who had been blown away and lay on the ground, could see the ‘White Knight’ Aibodun half-kneeling behind the distant haze.
The undead knight remained motionless.
Brendel knew he had first been hit by a wind projectile dealing 30 damage, then suffered about 140 damage from two sword strikes, and finally took another 45 damage from the fireball spell—this guy, no matter how powerful, should not be able to rise now.
He couldn’t help but touch his forehead, unable to believe he had won so easily. However, Freya’s fireball had nearly blown him to pieces; fortunately, he had the legendary talent ‘Indomitable.’
Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle; he said Aibodun had missed a detail, knowing the other party probably would not know his great secret.
He looked at Aibodun, not knowing what thoughts were in the head of the former hero of Erluin as he bowed his head at this moment—
Was he thinking about how he could so easily lose?
Or reminiscing about past glories?
Brendel pondered, unable to suppress a cough as he prepared to sit up from the ground, when he heard a flurry of sounds behind him. He turned back to see Freya and Charles sliding down the slope with anxious expressions.
“Brendel!” The ponytailed girl saw the young man lying on the ground, and any thoughts she previously had fled her mind; her only thought was to rush over and support him, carefully asking, “Brendel, are you… are you okay?”
Brendel was about to respond but felt a sudden urge and lay back down.
“Freya, is that you?” He suddenly coughed, weakly asking while lying on the ground.
“Yes, yes it’s me, you… you can’t see me?” Freya saw Brendel was covered in injuries, especially the wounds on his chest and abdomen that continuously oozed blood; she couldn’t help but feel flustered, looking as though she might cry: “Brendel, don’t talk, I—I’ll bandage you up…”
“Freya, no need, there’s something I want you to help with.”
“Wh-What is it?” Freya felt a bit panicked upon hearing this and subconsciously tightened her hands.
“Let me think… how about you kiss me first?”
“Eh, ah… ah?” Tears still hung at the corners of Freya’s eyes, but upon hearing this strange request, she couldn’t help but be stunned.
Seeing the ponytailed girl’s serious expression, Brendel finally couldn’t help but laugh; he hastily popped up slightly to answer: “Just kidding, Freya, I mean could you please help me up—”
“You, your injuries, Brendel, do not move rashly! Don’t do this…… I-I’ll just kiss you,” Freya, flustered, mistakenly thought Brendel was sulking with her, unable to help but lower her head, her face turning red as she spoke loudly.
Brendel was taken aback, realizing he had perhaps gone too far. He quickly explained, “Freya, I really am fine.”
“How is that possible!”
“I’m not just a knight, I’m also a wizard, you know—” Brendel didn’t expect Freya to completely disbelieve him, so he changed tactics to kindly deceive her.
“Y-You really are fine?”
“Of course.”
Brendel seemed to need to prove he was actually okay, gritting his teeth to endure the pain while striking a healthy pose, then breaking out into a cold sweat as he reached for the level 9 holy water in his bag.
But Freya stared at him, her face first turning bright red, then white, and then red again, and she bit her lip, slowly lowering her head and clenching her fists.
“Brendel, you, you…”
“You shameless rascal!”
(PS. Sigh, later than ever.) (To be continued. For more details, please log in for more chapters. Support the author, support legitimate reading!)
