Chapter 865: Act 43 – Two Letters VIII
The night was cool and tranquil as Brendel walked slowly down a deserted path, the silent forest parting before him to reveal a winding trail snaking through the woods. From a distance, the sound of flowing water reached his ears, sparkling under the woven moonlight on the right side of the woods, marking the direction of the Buche River. As the bushes parted, the path ahead suddenly opened up, a dilapidated wooden cabin appeared like a slumbering beast, partially hidden behind dense foliage.
He was very familiar with this path; for every day over the past ten years, he had walked through this forest at dawn, following that tall figure. Suddenly, a bare tree stump entered his view, and beside it stood an old man and a young boy. The elder watched the youth, who brandished a wooden sword, repeatedly swinging it at the air. But the stump was covered in moss, and even a patch of brown mushrooms had grown on its roots. The figures seemed to dissipate beneath the moonlight, pulling the passage of time back to reality.
This quiet sawmill had been abandoned a decade ago, the owner having handed it over to a local nobleman, who soon closed it due to mismanagement. Brendel’s memories of it began from that time until just before his grandfather passed away.
The serene scene seemed to calm his tumultuous thoughts, yet the words of Princess Grifian still echoed in his mind:
“Those who were informed at that time included the Queen of Silver, the King of Wind Elves, and His Holiness Fanzan.”
“They were not just informants but witnesses; only they know what truly happened during the battle at Mount Alkeshi. There’s one more thing I must tell you, Mister Brendel: the Wind Elves also owe Lord Darus a favor.”
But it was not so simple. Brendel shook his head, remembering the words of Veronika— the Holy War had ended forty years ago, and since then, the Queen of Silver had gradually ascended to the pinnacle of the Empire. She had an extraordinary adventure in her youth that granted her eternal youth, even winning her a favor from the Dragon Tribe. The disjointed threads seemed to start weaving together in his mind, and at that moment, behind the weight of history, Brendel glimpsed the shadow of the Golden Folk.
The Dragon Tribe.
Why was the Dragon Tribe involved in this matter?
In his mind, another name surfaced—Alorze.
Brendel quietly approached the riverbank, where a cluster of tree stumps formed an open area. Across the river was the quiet stag forest, a place steeped in legends of witches, fairies, white stags, and haunted castles, which provided him endless joy in his childhood. The adventurous spirit in boys was the natural enemy of adults; although local children were expressly forbidden from entering the forest, he had ventured in successfully more than once.
Gradually, these childhood memories dispersed his doubts. For a moment, he could not help but think of that obnoxious fellow Brensen, who used to be the leader of the group of children outside the city, while Brensen swaggered alongside the noble kids from the city. They had fiercely fought a few times, leaving each other bruised and battered. Yet back then, he hadn’t been able to match Brensen; their animosity had begun then.
He shook his head, the faces of those lively children faded from his mind. Brensen had gone north; he had no idea how he was doing now, and their small conflicts had long dissipated even before Alorze’s time. His father, Sir Habuch, had visited his home that afternoon; he must have heard news about him from the upper echelons of the Vanmil Legion. He still remembered how vigorous Habuch looked when he served as a constable, but Habuch had resigned from the noble council last year and returned home to enjoy his retirement. The next time Brendel saw him, Sir Habuch’s hair was white, and he seemed to have aged ten years.
Habuch came to his home, naturally to inquire about Brensen. Brendel had not hidden anything; Brensen had indeed asked him to send a message home when he was at Alorze. But seeing Habuch, who was bald and hunched over, muttering to himself like an old, dried-up man, Brendel felt a sense of time flowing away.
“Oh dear, that kid Brensen doesn’t know how to navigate relationships. Brendel, you grew up together; you must help him and not let him offend too many people.”
Thinking of Sir Habuch’s words, Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle. In his recollection, Brensen really was that kind of person. But neither was he much better; had he not been so unruly in his youth, his grandfather’s teachings wouldn’t have gone to waste. He sighed as he walked slowly along the riverbank, the sound of insects chirping inside the quiet sawmill was the same as it had been ten years ago, today it remained unchanged, with the moonlight shining brighter and the sound of water seeming clearer.
Brendel passed through these familiar scenes, and on each stump lay a fragment of his memories. He felt an unvoiced understanding deep within him; it was as though starting from that morning, this world gradually became more real and clearer in his eyes. The mindset of being a mere bystander and player started to crack; he even thought he could hear the sound of glass shattering, as it melted away like snow.
He looked up; heavy shadows loomed before him, as if the entire world was tinted like an old photograph. He saw the past, where his grandfather trained him here with the sword—every strike, every step, every lift of the arm, the path of the swordlight clearly imprinted in his memory.
He saw himself getting knocked down time and again, then getting back up, sometimes complaining, sometimes bursting into anger.
But that old man merely remained silent, watching him.
Then at one moment, as if under a spell, he saw the legendary Sword Saint Darus lift his head and glance in his direction. A cold sweat broke out as Brendel came to a halt, standing under the bright moonlight, the memories of the past like a stream flowing into his mind.
From birth to growth, from ignorance to gradual maturity; it was as if he witnessed himself waking up from a dream, the oscillating skeleton frame, the sword inlaid with black roses, a chaotic image rapidly spinning, intertwining into lines that stretched forward. Suddenly, Brendel awoke to the realization; this was the Law.
The wall of laws became real and clear before him, then collapsed with a crash. Brendel looked up, seeing the entire world expanding in a void of space, and at the very center of this world stood a white tower, soaring into the clouds.
The White Tower of Oberia in the Second World, said to uphold all order of Vaunte, the end and center of all lines of law. All truths and laws were inscribed atop the white tower, and travelers climbed it, one by one, to understand the true meaning of the world.
It resembled a child and an elder walking hand in hand, mere mortals said to dwell beside the truth—
Brendel suddenly opened his eyes, a peculiar light illuminating his bright gaze—what are space and time? They themselves describe the state of material existence, seeming to exist in the world yet also not, but at the moment he truly touched Vaunte, the core laws of this world finally opened the door for him.
Brendel raised his hand; a stone that was once meant to exist at a specific coordinate vanished, then reappeared before him. He felt as though he could easily alter the properties of matter, the surface of the stone becoming pitted like wind-eroded stone, then shattering, finally turning to dust.
It felt like an eternity had passed.
This was the ultimate unity of law and will.
Brendel came to understand that he had unknowingly stood before the door of the side of truth. After a long journey, his heart and this world had finally merged into one; Brendel and Sue were no longer separate from each other. The past knowledge and experiences, memories and emotions, perfectly aligned, he felt that although his strength had not increased, he could easily overpower Kehua or Williams in battle.
Brendel smiled slightly; the first thing he did was open the panel.
Human Male, 20 years old.
Power System: Elemental Domain (Id Law), High Authority.
Time and Space—
(In the eyes of the Hazal people, time and space are concepts used to describe the existence states of the world. If matter and energy do not exist, then both time and space collapse accordingly. But concepts often stretch to the power of definitions and imagination; they are the roots of law, the keys to existence—)
Elemental Power (4/4)
Dominion—
“Space is bound and managed by you.”
As long as the line of law tends towards stability, the controller of time and space can let the next attack appear at any coordinate in space; you can also cause any object to appear at any coordinate.
Consumption: 50 points of Order Power.
Stability—
“Space is the farthest distance between people; if you cannot cross it, how can you harm me?—Sadding, the King of Law Wizards.”
The line of law protects the user’s armor and weapons; as long as the attack does not penetrate the law, this armor and weapon are considered indestructible. Moreover, stability gives the controller of time and space an extra +2 defense.
Consumption: Passive.
Time—
“Time is my ally, your enemy.”
The controller of time and space allows one or multiple entities to fully decay or recover; the degree of decay or recovery depends on how much order power the controller commands.
Consumption: Any.
Interstice—
“It seems you are caught in the crevice of time, with its flow always especially slow for you.”
The controller of time and space no longer naturally ages, doubling their lifespan and enhancing their bodily functions through metabolism.
Consumption: Passive.
Order Power: 0/3000.
The four pillars of elements had completely changed; ‘Infallible’ became ‘Dominion,’ ‘Flowing’ became ‘Time,’ Dominion allowed him to control not only himself but everything within the lines of law, even including enemies. Meanwhile, Time not only enhanced his ability to decay but now also possessed the power of retrogression. Such power approached the realm of divine deities concerning existence. However, the consumption that came with it was also astonishing: he had previously tested the power of decay, turning a stone to dust, at the pinnacle of the elemental evolution his 3000 points of order power were instantly consumed.
Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly; this ability looked beautiful, but at his level of power, he couldn’t utilize it at all. The only consolation was that it was at least slightly better than during the elemental evolution. Moreover, the interstice ability had further strengthened; the aging speed was suppressed once more, and bodily functions improved by another factor of two. This attribute, which initially seemed like a burden, had now transformed into an incredibly practical passive skill.
However, the greatest change was in his level:
The mercenary became level forty; in addition to the original military swordsmanship, weapon proficiency, charge, in-depth analysis, piercing strike, Queen of Wind’s Nine Lights, flash sword, and horsemanship, he had also acquired three new skills: stealth, Greyhous Knight Swordsmanship, and the Sword of Breaking Army.
The Elementalist became level twenty-seven; its skills hadn’t changed much, but Alchemy was raised to level ten.
The Sanctuary Knight rose to level thirty; Blood of the Sun, Thorned Crown, and Conflict Aura all directly became level fifteen, and he also gained a new skill called Holy Power Infusion.
The Frost Earth Protector became level twenty-five; their skills remained unchanged, learning only the basic skill of freezing touch for enchanting swords.
The Scholar grew the most, advancing directly from level fifteen to level fifty and gaining an array of knowledge including grey knowledge, geography, nature, engineering, and various local knowledge, with the majority being about Fanzan’s religious knowledge and local knowledge of Madara.
And below all professions, there appeared a profession that Brendel was extremely familiar with—
Two-Handed Swordsman, Level 30.
Brendel nearly shed tears upon seeing this profession; if he hadn’t understood what had happened immediately after witnessing his attribute changes, upon seeing this profession, his heart filled with clarity. For this profession was the very one that Sue had insisted on until the end, the pure profession of a level 130 Two-Handed Swordsman.
He had learned Stealth from the Nightingale players of White City, acquired the renowned Knight Academy Swordsmanship from the Greyhous Knight Order, and had garnered his one high-level swordsmanship—Sword of Breaking Army—while battling in the ruins beneath Valata. His Sanctuary Knight skill level came from before Erluin’s downfall. His Alchemy formed early in the game, having learned Blood Alchemy, which he subsequently left in neglect. His knowledge was a product of a lengthy journey; he had lived long in Erluin and understood the grey areas of this world while dealing with the Thieves’ Guild; he had visited Saint Ausoor, Fanzan, Greyhous, and even infiltrated Madara.
But all of these were historical pasts.
These experiences had long existed in his mind.
But it wasn’t until this moment that the system finally recognized this knowledge, integrating them with Brendel’s experiences in this world, just as Brendel’s soul retained the experiences of militia and swordsmanship when he took over this body. Now, the experiences and knowledge from Sue naturally integrated into this body as well. However, the game-derived experiences of swordsmanship and combat paled compared to real battles, so it appeared that the system only recognized less than a quarter of it.
But just this quarter had propelled his standing to the peak of elemental evolution.
The side of truth was scarcely within reach.
This was truly an unexpected harvest.
Brendel let out a long breath; all along, he could sense the separation that existed between himself and this world, a barrier that had slowed his progress both before and after elemental evolution. He had invested experience across several professions, yet the realm of elements seemed unchanged. But today, he finally broke through this mental barrier; the path to existential power seemed to become clearer before him. He understood the journey was still long, yet it was no longer out of reach.
His spirit seemed to return to his body; in the night, subtle sounds once again sharpened his senses. He listened closely to the chirping of insects and the flowing water, but at that moment, a peculiar voice also entered his ears.
Brendel frowned. He felt his senses sharpen considerably; he had paid no heed to this faint sound before. He turned his head toward a direction, already certain the sound belonged to someone practicing swordsmanship. The whooshing of the wind was all too familiar. But the question was, who would be practicing swordsmanship in this place at such a late hour? Brendel looked toward that direction, feeling puzzled.
…
Antinna stood by the creaking waterwheel, clutching a coat, silently gazing at the shimmering river under the moonlight. Her mind kept replaying the incident she witnessed in the afternoon; sometimes she felt she might have been better off not seeing it. She recalled passing the low rose hedge behind the manor, where everyone was admiring Old Scott’s waterwheel, catching sight of her Lord and Princess together in her peripheral vision.
At that moment, she had widened her eyes, watching the Princess approach her Lord, standing on her tiptoes like a naive girl, raising her face, gently pecking his lips.
She had nearly cried out in fright then.
Even now, she still felt as if she had imagined it.
But she soon thought she might have truly imagined it, for she suddenly saw a figure peering at her from the bushes not far away. But at this hour, how could anyone be here? Antinna’s alertness heightened; it was not her imagination—there truly was someone in those bushes. She frowned, cautiously observing the area, and softly called out, “Who is there?”
With a rustle, a boy resembling a beggar emerged from the bushes, looking at Antinna with uncertainty, cautiously asking, “Are you Mr. Brendel’s wife? I need to find him.”
Antinna’s face flushed, but she did not deny it; instead, she asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Dian; I have urgent news to tell Mr. Brendel,” the boy replied.
