Chapter 887: Act 63 – Message for Xi III
It is difficult to describe in words what the members of the Erluin delegation underneath the fortress truly saw at that moment.
Brendel’s casual swing of his sword seemed to be divided into several parts—each one could serve as a textbook example in a swordsmanship class. At that moment, swordsmanship appeared not merely as a skill for killing but as a delightful art. The swordsmanship, the principles, seemed to approach the line marking the realm of truth, rooted in the ancient techniques of the King of Fire and the Dragon Clan, and the unfathomable power of the ancient sacred sword, all converging at this moment.
Brilliant sword light rose from the ground; behind that blinding radiance, accompanied by a thundering sound, the massive wrought iron doors were cleaved into four. The force of the impact caused the door to bend inward and then utterly collapse, flying into the moat behind it; the remnants of sword energy merged into the walls on either side, as black rock visibly grew a smooth cut, along which an entire section of the wall began to cave in. As bricks and debris rained down, the lines of magical force maintaining the wall’s integrity prominently emerged from the air, these silver lines representing magical power fading with the advance of the sword energy, as if unable to resist it in the slightest.
In short.
The knightly gate of the entire Black Sword Bastion, after this strike, became part of history.
The refugees were being tied up one by one to the wooden stakes along the road in the valley by imperial soldiers, but suddenly, everyone’s attention was drawn to that direction. They saw the bright sword light rise from the valley, saw the dazzling sword brilliance slash into the towering knightly gate, saw one-fifth of the fortress’s wall vanish into dust under a single strike,
saw one person with one sword, standing tall before the empire—seemingly no longer needing any command, all the imperial soldiers who witnessed this scene dropped their tasks in unison. Those who were supposed to be tied to the stakes were also left aside, with no one having the time to concern themselves with them, yet these people seemed not to even think about escaping.
The Gray Saint?
The Crusian people first thought of a famed name.
Sword Saint Darus?
The people of Erluin were reminded of their widely circulated legends.
Everyone was stunned, even the knights mounted on horses in shining armor looked blankly at this scene. It should have been said that the fortress was under attack, yet it exceeded any method of assault they could imagine. This wasn’t their fault; the last recorded attack on the fortress was rooted in history, as far away as a fairy tale, no one could have thought that everything that occurred in that legend would replay in their lifetime.
This small squad of imperial soldiers outside the fortress seemed to be enchanted, standing still, but those noble representatives from various territories beside Brendel fared no better.
Miss Oni, daughter of Duke Vieiro, had turned into a puppet, all her movements frozen at the moment before Brendel drew his sword; even her eyeballs seemed to have lost the capacity to turn, staring fixedly at Brendel, her complex gaze unable to express whether she saw a madman or a fool.
Afram was stunned, his mouth agape. The look of sheer horror on his face suggested that even if someone threw a pigeon egg inside, he might not register it.
“L-L-Lord Earl…” Miss Eynid seemed to be trembling with fear, her voice stuttering.
Even QiYala couldn’t help but look at Brendel as though he were a monster: “You, you know what kind of good thing you’ve done…”
Brendel sheathed his sword, not answering their questions. At this moment, the door of Dierphir’s carriage in the convoy behind opened slightly, and the young prince Haruz finally couldn’t hold back, peering out cautiously to ask, “T-Teacher, Miss Dierphir is asking what happened?”
“Nothing.” Brendel replied.
“You say nothing!?” Oni finally reacted. It seemed like she had received a strong stimulus and nearly disregarded noble etiquette in jumping up: “Do you intend to declare war on the Empire?!” The duke’s daughter faltered as she thought of something, her gaze towards Brendel turning somewhat fearful: “Lord Earl of Toniger, you wouldn’t really be—”
But she hadn’t finished her sentence before Brendel suddenly yanked her back, as a glaring sword light appeared between them. Brendel quickly raised Frost Whisperer Xina to block the sudden long sword, and with a grating metallic clash, the two blades collided. Around the blade’s center, silver and golden lines extended simultaneously, with Brendel’s lines of magical force acting like a taut shield, completely fending off the incoming assault, the golden raindrops incessantly striking against the silver network formed by his magical lines, yet not penetrating an inch.
The Crusian people finally reacted; this sudden attack had completely caught the duke’s daughter off guard. In her astonishment, the latter half of her sentence naturally returned to her belly.
Brendel understood the origin of his opponent during their brief exchange.
Golden Holy Flame.
His opponent was also an elemental tier.
But unfortunately, they were far from catching up.
The clash of swords took place in an instant; Brendel let out a cold snort and swung a second sword that struck the opponent’s blade, prompting a sudden cry of “The truth of…!” from the foe, who was then sent flying towards the wall and crashed into the dust-laden rubble.
Originally, another Cruzian knight was about to rush forward from the direction of the collapsing wall, but witnessing Brendel’s strike, he couldn’t help but change color, stopping dead in his tracks. Trembling, he asked Brendel, “Who exactly are you, and why are you attacking the Empire?” Brendel sheathed his sword and quietly returned Frost Whisperer Xina to its slender scabbard—
The crystalline scabbard had been specially crafted for it by Bud the wizard. Brendel hadn’t intended to ask for it, yet those craftsman wizards, each a perfectionist, were enamored with this legendary sword, eager to create everything from the scabbard to the rack as a complete set.
However, regrettably, even the People of Silver could not repair this legendary sacred sword.
Brendel returned the scabbard to Charles and then picked up the Earth Sword, turning back to look at the other man—the knight before him wore a white cloak with a gryphon insignia trimmed in gold and had obviously fine armor, decorated predominantly with pure gold or genuine mithril, rather than gilded imitations. He also bore the knight commander’s badge, yet, like most experts of this caliber, he preferred not to wear a helmet, revealing shoulder-length golden hair and the visage of a middle-aged man in his fifties or sixties.
Brendel quickly identified the man’s identity. The border garrison stationed at Black Sword Bastion must be from the noble army of Lozhelia; this army was commanded by Marquis Asova Bridgewell, and the garrison contained three elemental tier experts, Fire Wolf Afan, the Empire’s Sword Lawak, and the White Shadow Fanaw. The man before him was the Empire’s Sword Lawak. Though Brendel had never dealt with him in his previous life, he knew that Lawak’s elemental affinities were quite rare among the Crusians, as he specialized in both the knight and noble swordsmanship of the Crusians and also mastered the secret sword techniques of the Lozhelians, which were of an intermediate level. This man’s swordsmanship was bold and expansive, yet his manner of acting was extraordinarily cautious and meticulous.
In truth, although the Empire had many elemental awakeners, they were not like cabbages you find in the fields. Most familiar names among the Crusians and the various nations under the Temple of Fire were still well known.
After recognizing this man, Brendel couldn’t help but take a few more glances. In his previous life, this man was a legendary figure among the Erluin players. Of course, this legend did not stem from how strong he became later, but from the fact that he was one of the six elemental awakeners stationed at the Erluin border for the Empire. In this historical era, there were only a few awakener elementalists in the entire Erluin Kingdom. The total number from the north and south combined wouldn’t exceed ten, and at that time, during the Year of the Sword, they were all seen as figures to be revered.
Yet today, these legendary beings had been swept away by him with a mere swing; if he wasn’t mistaken, the one controlling the golden holy flames should be Fire Wolf Afan, while the Empire’s Sword Lawak was also too intimidated by a single sword strike to dare act.
Brendel looked at Lawak’s serious expression and couldn’t help but think how wondrous this world truly was.
After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head and seriously responded, “Who I am, you, Mr. Lawak, shouldn’t be unaware. As for why I am doing this, I believe, Mr. Lawak, you also understand. However, returning to the matter at hand, since things have developed to this point, if I were to ask you to persuade your lord marquis to send someone to welcome the Crusian delegation into the fortress, do you think you still could manage that?”
Unlike Brendel’s casual understanding, Lawak was currently exceptionally grave. His level of strength was about on par with Fire Wolf Afan. The implication behind Brendel’s counterstrike that sent Afan flying had already sounded alarm bells in his heart—such seemingly invincible forces of law evidently stood on an entirely different height, that was the level of truth—on the side of truth. Lawak had no way of knowing that Brendel was merely borrowing a portion of Frost Whisperer’s power, and his true strength still fell significantly short of the side of truth. But in Lawak’s heart, he had already designated Brendel as a formidable enemy.
Stationed at the border between the Empire and Erluin, he was less in the know about the news of the ancient kingdom compared to the nobles within the Empire’s center. Hence, he had no idea where this young man in front of him came from, only that he felt astounded. When did such a genius emerge among the Erluin people, appearing as though from thin air?
He listened to Brendel’s words with regret boiling in his heart. Today he and Afan were responsible for patrolling the castle walls, of course, aware of everything that occurred below, but regarding the Erluin people’s disdain, he thought of it as not being that significant—before this, no one had voiced any objections. Be it Crusians or Erluin people, everything seemed to be taken for granted. Yet, he never expected things would develop to this extent.
This man had actually cleaved the knightly gate with a single sword.
Lawak began to understand Brendel’s perspective. If he were a swordsman of the side of truth, troubled by a mere knight captain, he would also rage. But he couldn’t help but feel a sense of helplessness and despair. Who would expect that an Erluin person would suddenly manifest a sword saint? Moreover, between these prior years, not even a whisper had hinted at such a phenomenon. He seemed to have sprung forth as an oddity in this year.
Lawak certainly had no notion that his thoughts were considerably close to the truth. This world was indeed so mad; he merely swallowed hard and replied, “I’m afraid not.”
“So,” Brendel replied, “our dialogue is pointless, Mr. Lawak. Since you cannot agree, I shall complete this matter personally.”
With that, he raised the Earth Sword and stepped forward.
“Lord Earl, you can’t do that!” The duke’s daughter seemed to finally realize. She looked somewhat numbly at Brendel, who had just severely wounded an imperial swordmaster and sent another into a halt; she recognized both of them, but she would now rather admit her error, for everything before her was simply too insane, to the extent that her voice in stopping Brendel was weak and weary: “We cannot provoke the Crusians any further…”
“Lord Earl, do you wish to declare war on the Empire?” Lawak was on the verge of tears, unable to suppress the thought that this person before him must be insane. Even if he was a sword saint, how could he commit such a mad act? In that moment, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of déjà vu, as if he saw the shadow of another individual in Brendel, someone who was also entirely mad in the eyes of the Crusians.
That person’s name was Mephistopheles.
“Declare war?” Brendel chuckled, glancing at Lawak, then at Oni, and replied, “Miss Oni, we are also followers of the Temple of Fire, responding to the call of the Temple to participate in a sacred war. But here, we are met with brazen insults from a group of ignorant fools, hence I find it hard not to suspect that they are attempting to deny the legitimacy and sanctity of this war. I now intend to rectify their viewpoint—this is not about declaring war on the Empire but rather to cleanse certain stubborn individuals for the Temple. Thus, contrary to your imagination, my actions represent a firm and loyal stance of the Erluin people, and not only should it not be condemned, but I believe it should be rewarded.”
Oni stared at him, dumbfounded.
This was clearly the logic of a robber.
But as she opened her mouth, she suddenly understood Brendel’s meaning. If they inexplicably attacked an imperial fortress, it would naturally be seen as a signal of war. However, according to his reasoning, this would present an entirely different matter.
The crux was, at this juncture of the holy war, would the Temple of Fire push Erluin further away? Would the Queen of Silver allow her southern regions to become the most unstable factor in the war?
The answer was evident—
She suddenly recalled Brendel’s earlier words—great powers possess great strength, and small countries have their wisdom, and Erluin also has its advantages. Indeed, in comparison to the gains and losses of a full-fledged holy war, would the Temple of Fire and the Emperor of the Empire become entangled in such details concerning dignity and face?
QiYala seemed to grasp Brendel’s meaning now, and the young girl gently hummed, “You think well, but be careful not to burn yourself.”
Brendel gently shook his head. He was indeed playing with fire, but it was something he had to do.
He raised his head, awaiting Lawak’s response.
Lawak’s face had long since become extraordinarily grim. He was no fool; he understood what Brendel’s words implied. However, he took a deep breath, and the pride of being an imperial citizen finally prevailed. “You are strong, Lord Earl, but do you intend to challenge an entire imperial army alone? I can clearly tell you, Lord Earl, that this is impossible. Regardless of how the Emperor ultimately responds, here, I declare to you with the honor of a Crusian soldier that we will not let you step half a foot into this fortress!”
“If you insist on waging war with us,” Lawak shouted, “Crusian knights, prepare for battle!”
Brendel only heard a soft rustling sound, and he instinctively looked up, watching as the gryphon cages on the walls were opened one after another. Instantly, dozens of gryphons soared from the parapet, their cries piercing the air as they spread their wings, momentarily giving the illusion of blocking out the sun.
“Imperial army—!”
A shrill voice rang out from the valley.
This scene before him resembled what he had witnessed a decade later in that holy war. The Empire’s might was founded upon the pride of every one of its citizens. This glorious and radiant army could shake anyone witnessing it for the first time.
But regrettably—Brendel gazed at these white predators soaring out, one hand resting on the scabbard of the Earth Sword, and the other gently drawing the dark blade of this holy sword—this very scene, he had long seen before.
He casually tossed the scabbard behind him and raised the Earth Sword in response to Lawak in front of him: “There is one thing I must tell you—”
“My army has never been just one person.”
As if to confirm this statement, countless black dots rose from the mountainous terrain.
