Chapter 910: Act 86 – The Gifts of the Gods
The stars shone brightly in the night sky as Brendel stared intently at the rooftops of the noble council hall and the merchant guild for several minutes. Finally, after the harpies soared up and down for the third time, he commanded, “Let’s go.”
A flicker of ethereal light flashed between Flour’s fingers, and four harpies a hundred meters away were pierced by dark blue arrows, which shot through their hearts and immediately turned them into ice sculptures with a series of sharp cracks. Battle mages could extract spells from their magical circles with remarkable speed, but the elven caster was a beat slower. Diya’s response was even slower; she struggled to read each spell byte, thrusting both hands forward as everyone saw an invisible ripple sweep across the sky above the square, slicing through the fleeing bodies of the harpies, causing them to be torn apart in an instant, raining down as a shower of blood.
Diya did not expect her spell to have such a profound effect and stuck out her tongue apologetically at Brendel.
“The Agas Blade of the Storm,” Brendel murmured, “Was it necessary to employ a seventh-circle spell against three harpies…?”
By this time, the troglodytes in the square had been alerted. Though they could not see, they could hear sounds. The troglodytes at the temple entrance grabbed nearby weapons in a panic when a wave of crossbow bolts flew out from the darkness. These poor creatures fell as if they had crashed into an invisible wall, collapsing in a heap, while the remaining few were swiftly pierced through the heart by the passing White Lion Guard, falling back on the steps.
Next, the unlucky patrol team ran into trouble as Juliette personally intercepted them. The female mercenary band’s fiery long hair resembled a striking banner in the night, flowing up and down with her movements—she swung it in conjunction with the Crimson Fire Crow’s tongue. Brendel was taken aback upon seeing the sword; then he remembered it was a gift he had given to the mercenary captain. In Juliette’s hands, the Crimson Fire Crow’s tongue seemed to come to life as she whipped it into a flame-tailed whip, sweeping across a distance of thirty-four meters, capturing four or five fleeing troglodytes and turning them to ashes. The remaining troglodytes had no strength to resist and fell one by one to the White Lion Guard, soon slaughtered to the last.
Cooper glanced at the sword in Juliette’s hand and then at the proud figure of the mercenary captain, unable to suppress a look of envy towards Brendel, thinking how fortunate the young man was.
At this moment, only two razorboars remained in the square. These savage beasts from the underground were incredibly large, almost the size of a cow, boasting four pairs of parallel tusks, each pair over half a meter long and resembling gleaming curved knives, hence their name. After being domesticated by the troglodytes, they were outfitted with metal masks and blindfolds to reduce their weaknesses, making them true warbeasts.
These creatures were known for their ferocity, famous killers of the underground. However, their brains seemed to malfunction from constant rage, reducing their intelligence drastically. Wild razorboars attacked everything that entered their territory—sometimes even their mates. Even after domestication, their choice of target merely excluded their trainer. Once all the troglodytes in the square were dead, the two razorboars finally became aware of their surroundings. Their first instinct was not to call out for companions but to charge straight at the humans that came into view.
Walton and Brendel stood to confront the two razorboars.
Walton, having long been renowned alongside Ludwig, had achieved the pinnacle of golden rank in power aside from his swordsmanship. However, faced with such volatile beasts, he did not dare to be careless. When the razorboar charged at him, he sidestepped and executed a Cruz sweeping strike that severed all four of its legs. The razorboar crashed down, ready to emit a horrific howl, but before the sharp airflow could escape its throat, Walton followed up with a thrust that pierced its windpipe, sealing its screams within. The resultant cacophony soon turned into the sound of air escaping from a ruptured trachea, and murky blood gushed out.
Walton glanced down at the razorboar lying dead on the ground, unable to suppress a satisfied nod. He was evidently pleased with the organized manner in which he had handled the situation, as it demonstrated an advanced understanding of his swordsmanship.
However, he found it strange that young Earl Brendel had yet to make any noise. Logically speaking, regardless of the outcome, there should have been some commotion. Even though he had dealt with the razorboar quietly, its impact on the ground should have generated considerable sound. Walton certainly did not believe Brendel could be stronger than himself. He had heard little about Brendel’s strength while following Cooper, but he was aware of the rumors of his impulsive temper, arrogance, and rudeness. When Brendel took Black Sword Fortress, the Empire only mentioned that he had a genuine archmage by his side. If Brendel, in his early twenties, were indeed a sword saint, Walton would find that incredibly hard to believe.
But when he turned to look back, he was met with a scene that left him dumbfounded. Brendel stood motionless in place, while not far away, a razorboar lay trembling on the ground like a quaking leaf, frightened to the point of losing control of its bowels, not daring to take a step closer.
All the young members of the White Lion Guard, including the mercenary captain, were looking at their lord with awe.
Walton, not being ignorant, quickly understood what had happened.
The might of the sword saint—
In nature, only a few powerful beings possess innate awe-inspiring pressure, like dragons or those indescribable mythical creatures from beyond the elemental realms. But for the Black Iron folk, there are those that have become powerful in their domain, even grasping the essence of the laws, generating pressure—a force of law, the might of a sword saint. The only prerequisite to reach this level is to stand on the side of truth.
At that moment, Brendel indeed felt the presence of the laws of the universe, and even he did not understand what had transpired. The instant he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the razorboar, an arcane knowledge resonated from the earth sword in response. In that fleeting moment, it felt as though he understood the meaning of mountains and rivers, of eternal permanence, but that was merely a story that unfolded in an instant, as if for that brief moment, he had genuinely crossed into the realm of truth. But in the blink of an eye, he returned to the pinnacle of elemental sophistication.
However, in that fleeting moment of the side of truth, the pressure that naturally emitted from him was sufficient to terrify the intellectually challenged razorboar into losing its wits.
Brendel felt a faint premonition in his heart. He withdrew his sword, glanced at the razorboar still trembling on the ground, and said to the others, “Don’t mind this thing; it won’t react anytime soon. Let’s push into the temple.”
As he spoke, he raised his eyes to silently gaze at the pitch-dark night sky.
At some point, dark clouds had obscured the starlight—
…
Whether by the protection of the pottery god Kalidas or for some other reason, the assault on the temple proceeded smoothly. The troglodyte warriors stationed within the temple had not anticipated the changes outside. When the White Lion Guard stormed into the temple, they were caught off guard, instantly losing the initiative. The ensuing battle was almost overwhelmingly one-sided; although the brutish bodyguard squad of the tangling bears launched a fearless counterattack, these fourth-tier creatures from Jotungrund were evidently more adept at battling underground than on the surface. Under the assault from Juliette, Nemeses, and Walton, the White Lion Guard suffered only one minor injury while nearly annihilating the bodyguard squad.
The battle concluded quicker than expected.
The tangling bear was the lord of the Shadel troglodytes—nothing more. In Jotungrund, troglodytes were already the lowest stratum, barely above the ground gnomes in rank. The most notable aspect of the tangling bear was its ownership of a minotaur slave, which allowed it to seize a small piece of territory at the edge of the Silent Lands, gaining prestige among its peers and assembling an army to rise to lordship. However, its power was only slightly above that of the expelled Tagib.
This time, the minotaur it relied upon, after just a few exchanges with Walton, was beheaded immediately, and its foul blood splattered all over the one hiding behind it, almost rendering it unconscious with fright.
When Juliette dragged this lord out from the temple, he no longer possessed his former air of authority, trembling like a soaked rooster.
“Lord, this fellow doesn’t know much, but everything it can say, it has,” Juliette said, “Should I have you ask it yourself?”
Brendel took a glance at the creature and shook his head restlessly, replying, “No need to waste time; just tell me what it said.”
Juliette was momentarily startled, looking at Brendel with curiosity.
Nemeses, following behind, did not have as many reservations as the mercenary captain. She sensed something unusual in Brendel’s tone and directly asked, “What’s going on?”
Brendel gently shook his head, feeling a bit anxious. He had an unsettling feeling that the previous blow had been somewhat strange; the sensation coming from the earth was not his understanding of the laws, but rather some kind of connection. He merely happened to sense this connection. He recalled the legends surrounding Jotungrund; before the Great Divide, these subterranean folk, like the lionmen of Toquinin, worshipped the same deity. This notion left him feeling somewhat uneasy, as if it intertwined with some doubts he had harbored in recent days, yet he could not pinpoint the key factor at that moment.
Another point of confusion arose: that sensation had clearly descended from above, yet the sky was not traditionally the domain of Jotungrund, making it difficult for Brendel to discern what he truly felt.
Juliette glanced at the lady knight and then at her lord, not daring to make the latter wait too long. She spoke softly, “The scale of this invasion from Jotungrund is likely unknown even to this creature, but based on some of its descriptions, it doesn’t seem small.”
This was already within Brendel’s expectations; Juliette’s words merely corroborated his suspicions. He pushed aside the chaotic thoughts in his mind to make himself clearer and asked, “How many Jotungrund forces are stationed in Gravel Town? Who is their main force moving in this direction? It has to know.”
“There are only two forces stationed in Gravel Town; the other lord is named Gukko, Brother Brendel,” Diya replied quickly.
Juliette nodded in affirmation, indicating that Diya was actually translating the tangling bear’s remarks.
“Gukko?” Brendel felt he had heard that name before, but upon recalling, he found it was not a well-known lord from Jotungrund, even lesser-known than the tangling bear. The tangling bear was at least one of the only two lords among the Shadel troglodytes, and with its minotaur slave, it had gained a modicum of fame in that regard. What felt strange to him was that theoretically, he should not know any lord by a name so obscure.
Brendel couldn’t help but question whether his memory was failing him; he turned to seek help from Nemeses but found the lady knight was furrowing her brows as if pondering the same question.
“What about the other matter?” he asked again.
“The lord currently advancing towards Yasar seems to be a fellow named Moksha, but he can’t clarify much; he’s utterly useless!” Diya remarked, glancing at the tangling bear.
“Moksha!” Brendel was slightly taken aback. “So it’s him, the King of the Lizardmen. In the underground, he ranks just below Jeralt and the King of Medusa. If he is indeed the commander of the Jotungrund forces attacking Yasar, then their incursion into the surface world is presumably significant; at the very least, there will be a genuine underground king among their ranks to the south.”
The Wild Elf sister smiled faintly, answering, “You guessed it right, Brother Brendel. The Jotungrund legion currently assaulting Lokos—the Broken Sword Mountain Fortress—is indeed from the Venom Swamp.”
“The King of Medusa.” Brendel immediately connected the dots. However, he did not feel overly anxious; the Empire was the one in for a big surprise, and it had nothing to do with him. Even if the King of Medusa was all-powerful, it could not possibly divert forces from the Lokos highlands to trouble him.
He asked a few more questions, and Diya dutifully answered each one. However, as Juliette had mentioned, the tangling bear was only familiar with a few things. It even lacked knowledge of the true reason behind the Jotungrund invasion of the surface world. As for why it found itself here, it was forced to join the battle by a stronger lord—something typical in the underground world, and Brendel was unfazed.
Finally, Brendel inquired about the whereabouts of Earl Orkans and the rest. Those unfortunate imperial nobles had been imprisoned in the temple’s underground crypt, and Sir Cooper had already taken people to rescue them. However, it was easy to imagine that the troglodytes did not possess the noble quality of mercy. One could envision the fate of Earl Orkans falling into their hands; even if he survived, it was likely he would emerge with more than just a bruised skin.
As he thought of this matter, Brendel couldn’t help but maliciously reflect that if this earl had known this would happen, he might have willingly surrendered to him, preferring to be a captive of the Erluin people.
At the same time, Diya’s description of the encounters faced by the Cruz nobles confirmed another suspicion in Brendel’s heart.
The Shadel troglodytes’ lack of concern for the captivity of the Cruz nobles indicated that they were not specifically targeting Earl Orkans. In other words, the earl had been captured by the troglodytes merely as a byproduct of their operations.
Yet at that moment, Brendel had no extra time to lament the misfortune of this unfortunate earl. He immediately turned to Nemeses and asked, “Did you find it?”
Nemeses nodded.
She then produced an item.
The object rested in her palm, even smaller than a hand, resembling an enlarged white coin—such coins were widely used in the Fanzan region and, due to special minting processes, their surfaces were even smoother and shinier than typical coins. However, the metal disc in the knight’s hand was even more polished than an ordinary white coin, resembling a sparkling gem with metallic properties but lacking any notable crystalline structure. Upon closer inspection, one could even faintly perceive flames flickering within the metal disc.
Any onlooker could easily judge that this metallic disc was far from an ordinary item since nothing in the mortal realm—from metal to forging techniques—could replicate it. Even a resemblance seemed unlikely.
Juliette was instantly captivated the moment she laid eyes on the metallic disc, staring at it as if entranced, only reacting after quite a while to blurt out, “What is this? It’s so beautiful!”
Upon hearing this, Brendel couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. To Juliette, such an item was merely pretty, but to anyone who had ever known it, it was a treasure of the world.
…
Walton possessed two things beyond the reach of mortals.
The first was fate, the second was law.
But Martha granted mortals the power to change everything.
The master of fate lay with the Key of Amber, while all whispers between heaven and earth were inscribed on stone tablets.
—Poem of the Azure, Section 4, Part 3
…
(PS: Here’s the third update, foolish Miss~~~ By the way, please support with monthly tickets, everyone! Given how hard I worked today, I hope you won’t hesitate to vote!)
