Chapter 91: Act 27 – Retreating When Faced with Difficulty (Celebrating the First Flight of the Fourth Generation)
As soon as Freya spoke, Brendel understood her thoughts. However, he also calmed down; after all, he had personally experienced three hidden quests at level sixty or above and knew more about them, making it unnecessary to take risks for just one of them.
He had exerted nearly all his effort in opposing Aibodun, and facing characters above level sixty was practically a death sentence.
Moreover, he considered another issue. After the first Black Rose War ended, Madara’s army slowly retreated from the Erluin territory over the next month, while the undead’s control over this area continued until mid-August. Before that, this region was practically a desolate wasteland.
The undead definitely wouldn’t come to explore this valley. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t have the ability; the fourteen-ring thunder strike at the entrance would deter them.
This meant that he still had plenty of time to utilize at least until mid-August. With this thought, he picked up the earring and stepped back, patting the girl on the shoulder: “Let’s head back.”
“Brendel?”
“There are many chances for adventure, but Freya and I only have one life,” Brendel smiled: “You’re right; my mindset had some issues just now—”
He sighed again, realizing it was because he always felt that time was too pressing. The Black Rose War ended at the end of July, followed by the Erluin internal strife in September, and then the coup in November. Even counting from now, there were only five months left.
Brendel had no intention of changing history, but he needed to protect Romaine, Freya, and others, and at the very least, obtain basic strength.
It was precisely because he knew how chaotic this world would become next, that justice and fairness had long been destroyed by war; to survive in this turmoil, he had to take certain actions.
Freya and Romaine might not understand, and even those who followed him now wouldn’t understand, but at times Brendel couldn’t help but think that prophets have their own troubles— the feeling of knowing yet being unable to change is far stronger than for ordinary people.
Freya blushed: “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” Brendel replied.
He sheathed his sword and walked towards the rocky land, signaling Freya to follow from behind.
Just as they left, two figures emerged slowly from the dark crevice in the rocks, one tall and one short.
The taller one appeared to be a woman, dressed in a strange white robe adorned with blue feather patterns at the cuffs, chest, and shoulders. It was similar to the desert robe of the Kewlotians—narrow at the waist but with exceptionally wide sleeves and pant legs. She had long silver hair and eyes that were a deep emerald, like the depths of a lake, and her face bore two red markings but showed no other expressions.
She stared at Brendel and Freya’s backs, watching for a while before speaking:
“Alorze, aren’t you going to keep them?”
Her voice was neutral, plain and unremarkable, like plain water.
“Flourfa, your aggression shouldn’t be so apparent, or it won’t be much fun,” a lively voice responded to her.
The shorter girl looked to be about fourteen or fifteen years old in human years, with golden hair styled in dazzling twin ponytails. She wore traditional leather armor like most adventurers, but on her back, she carried a heavy iron box taller than herself—if one looked closely, they could see an emblem of five interconnected stars on the box.
Flourfa pondered for a moment: “Then why did you attack them, Alorze?”
“You’re no fun, Flourfa; it was just a tiny test,” came the reply.
“No wonder your previous strike’s power dropped by over ninety-eight percent. I was worried if something happened to the law of gold—”
“Flourfa, I really don’t want to marry someone as boring as you—”
“Alorze, we are dragonkin.”
“‘Human’ is merely a representative term. Forget it, I don’t want to discuss this with you. That human man actually took your earring, Flourfa. Doesn’t he know what that means?”
As she spoke, she chuckled softly.
Flourfa glanced at her; this time she didn’t respond.
“Forget it; you really are a dull one. But I truly want to see what expression they’ll have when they see that little gift. I’ve heard that humans are quite greedy creatures.”
“Aren’t you here to look for the legend of the golden fruit tree, Alorze? Why give that thing to them?”
“You see, the legend of the golden fruit tree is nowhere near as interesting as the struggles of small creatures. I’ve decided to leave this adventure to these two little ones. Besides, that human man seems quite friendly. Maybe he has some connection to the knight king.”
Flourfa turned back to look at her: “Do you know the knight king?”
Alorze immediately coughed: “That’s just a saying, merely a saying, Flourfa!”
“What exactly are you plotting?” the long-haired girl asked indifferently.
“Nothing; just a small test.”
Alorze chuckled softly again.
Flourfa frowned.
*
Retao saw Brendel and Freya turning back as they had settled the refugees and started cooking in place. From a distance, a small portion of the valley shrouded in mist produced thin smoke, adding a bit of life to the scene.
After a night of battle, both the mercenaries and the militia were exhausted. As Brendel rode through the crowd, he saw many people huddled together, asleep. However, some refugees actively offered food to those who had protected them, waking the sleeping warriors and presenting steaming meals in front of them.
Witnessing this, Brendel couldn’t help but feel a bit gratified. He could say that if it weren’t for him, these people would have been reduced to a tenth of their number. He had changed their lives, and they in turn would go on to change many more lives—the course of history was altered little by little.
Though still weak, power was gradually taking shape.
He met the old soldier from the November war, the owner of the Bronzesteeldragon storytelling inn, who quietly asked him if he wanted to leave immediately. But when Brendel looked back, he found Charles and Sue sleeping soundly on a wooden crate not far away. Looking again at the others, the entire camp was quiet—
After thinking for a moment, he shook his head. Since he had reached this point, most of his plan was already accomplished, and there was no need to push these people too hard. The timing in Fairyland approached a halt at night, and as long as they waited until the morning to set off, they could beat Madara’s army.
After all, the exit to the north of the valley was nearly right next to the sharp stone riverbank, victory was in sight.
“Have you rested well, Uncle Retao?” Brendel asked.
“Don’t worry, my lord; I’m a mercenary, we excel in taking care of ourselves in such environments,” Retao patted his chest and smiled.
Brendel nodded.
“Then Freya, you should also get some sleep.” He turned back to look at the ponytailed girl who hadn’t closed her eyes for days. Although the Holy Word had the power to restore physical strength, the exhaustion of the mind still couldn’t be compensated.
Freya hurriedly shook her head: “I can hold on a bit longer, Brendel.”
“It’s an order, Freya,” Brendel said.
“I, I…”
Freya couldn’t help but widen her eyes. What did she want to say? That she needed to obey his orders now? After all, she was supposed to be the militia captain! But looking at Brendel and recalling that young man who led everyone through a bloody path against foes tenfold or even a hundredfold stronger, she couldn’t utter a single word—naturally, she could only lower her head and nod.
“I, I understand,” she responded.
Brendel didn’t notice the softness in the future Valkyrie’s tone as he watched her leave. He turned back and casually asked Retao: “By the way, where’s Romaine?”
“Miss Romaine just rode ahead to the front of the team,” Retao said, glancing toward the front. His expression seemed as if he had just witnessed something miraculous.
“‘Riding’?” Brendel didn’t notice Retao’s expression and asked in confusion. He was thinking whether that reckless girl had tied herself to a horse again. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had temporarily forgotten her lesson and was once again reckless?
But before he could finish his thoughts, a voice called out from behind: “Hey, Brendel, you’re back?”
This voice had a distinct quality; it was clear it belonged to some loud and carefree young lady.
He turned around to see the merchant Miss riding a horse, looking quite pleased as she galloped up to him. Brendel took a closer look—this girl had actually learned how to ride?
“How, how did you learn?” Now it was his turn to be surprised; he could learn to ride in an instant due to his game system as a cheat, but what was Romaine’s situation?
“Because Romaine is a merchant,” Romaine stopped her horse in front of him, facing him, and replied with a proud expression.
“What does that have to do with being a merchant?”
“Eh? Doesn’t it have anything to do with it?” Romaine blinked, unable to help but widen her eyes: “But shouldn’t merchants know how to ride horses?”
“I must point out, Miss Romaine, that most merchants don’t know how to ride,” Retao interjected.
Romaine’s little eyebrows furrowed together: “Is, is that so?—It doesn’t matter; Romaine is the type of capable merchant. Brendel, you agree, right?”
“Of course.” Brendel deemed it not worth arguing with her. He thought this must be what they call compensation from heaven—those with abnormal heads will naturally be somewhat more favored. He surmised this might correlate with the saying that fools have their own blessings. He shot her a look and then dismounted, ordering: “Little Romaine, since you have so much free time, accompany me around the camp—”
“Alright, Brendel.” The merchant Miss appeared quite enthusiastic.
“Do you need me to come along, my lord?” Retao asked as he turned his horse around.
Brendel managed to suppress a cough of blood. He thought, Uncle, can you not be so eager to be a third wheel? But he also understood Retao meant well and couldn’t refuse him, so he could only nod reluctantly.
However, just as he dismounted, he suddenly felt something strange in his pouch. He paused, then opened it to take a look. This glance completely changed his expression, and he instinctively thought he was mistaken, quickly closing the pouch and reopening it.
Now Brendel was sure he must be mistaken.
How could there be such a thing inside his pouch?
(PS: Ah, I was so excited about the fourth generation’s first flight yesterday that I didn’t write. Today, to celebrate, I decided to do a five-chapter burst. This is the first one.
By the way, I’m asking for monthly votes; I haven’t had many friends voting these last few days, just two or three votes a day TAT.
I’m also asking for recommendation clicks; I barely made it to the recommendation list last week, but there’s nothing this week.)(To be continued. For what happens next, please log in for more chapters and support the author and official reading!)
