Chapter 953: Act 124 – The Princess
The wind was filled with the scent of gunpowder, and the flames seemed to linger on the horizon; the shredded clouds resembled burning cotton, scattered across the sky. Behind the clouds, an ominous golden light shone through, casting its rays in all directions.
Turiman’s head of silver hair sparkled in the sunlight. He smiled slightly, “They never intended to hide it from the start. But you know, that’s the bad habit of wizards; they love to play word games, act clever, and take pleasure in it.”
“That’s how they showcase that they are far smarter than mortals. Unfortunately, no one wants to be a fool, which is why I’m feeling particularly bad right now.”
“Don’t worry, you can confront them; William and I will back you up. To be honest, Darus had a worse temper than you did back in the day—on this point, you’re far less than your grandfather, Brendel.”
Brendel remained unfazed. “My Lord Turiman, what role did the Buds play back then in the presence of His Majesty the Emperor and the Dragon Sword, and what exactly are you all planning to do?”
His light brown eyes reflected the silver sails; the aerial fleet glided through the air like fish, constantly shuttling around the harbor. At least one thing the Crusian port officials didn’t misjudge: the Ruin Port truly couldn’t bear this massive fleet. One could imagine that for a long time after the war, this port would find it difficult to recover its former glory.
But this was a problem local people needed to worry about, and at least so far, even Earl Orkans himself didn’t have the mind to consider it.
Turiman fell silent for a moment.
“You’re right,” he replied. “This is a long story; the wizards indeed played an unsavory role back then, but everything has to start with that great battle in the Altania mountain range.”
Turiman raised his hand and drew a silver rune, ‘Giseet,’ the incantation representing night. A transparent wave of energy enveloped them, isolating the surrounding sounds. “I won’t dwell on the details of that battle; I’m sure you’ve heard countless versions. However, the story that followed differs greatly from what’s circulating outside. Both sides in the conflict discovered something in Alca.”
“Something related to the Dark Dragon.”
Turiman was not surprised that Brendel could guess this. He nodded, “In fact, they discovered the battlefield of the final battle.”
“The battlefield of the final battle? Only Dragons and Kewal (Silver Elves) participated in the final battle back then; it turns out that battlefield was truly in Alca.” Brendel finally showed some emotion.
“Do you know about the battlefield of the last battle?”
“I know a bit. The Four Sages defeated the Dark Dragon in the last battle; it is said that countless secrets are sealed in that battlefield,” Brendel knew more about the history of the War of the Traveling Wizards, which had been narrated to him by Yilian, and it still felt vividly fresh: “After the Holy War, there were no records of the final battlefield; it mysteriously vanished— the only ones who knew disappeared were the Silver Elves who retreated into the woods, and Dragons no longer appeared on the earth. What remained were the wizards—the Buds.”
He lifted his head to look at Turiman. “The Silver Alliance monitors everything happening on the land. It’s hard to believe that mortals could approach Alca and find the final battlefield without some party’s permission.”
Turiman looked at Brendel with a complex expression; the countless secrets behind the victory of the Four Sages over the Dark Dragon meant that the two silver lineages and the Dragons, the only participants in that battle, had all hidden away to keep those secrets.
“How do you know of these secrets, young boy?”
“Through some threads of legendary evidence and speculation. I have experiences you cannot imagine, much like I resurfaced later as a Highland Knight,” Brendel replied, half-true, half-false. “I know more than the Buds can imagine.”
“I can tell,” Turiman sighed. His wise gaze swept over Brendel’s side profile: Darus’s grandson was strikingly similar to him when he was young, making Turiman feel as if that person reappeared before him. But alas, mortals’ lives are too fleeting. He seemed to recall those youthful days in Erluin: “It seems William’s evaluation of you is indeed the most accurate. Others still view you through the shadow of Darus, but you have already emerged from it.”
It wasn’t only himself who had emerged, Brendel thought; it felt more like a coincidence. When Sue’s extraordinary soul appeared with an attitude that encompassed the entire world, the fusion of their two souls became a catalyst, allowing them to support each other and emerge from the shadows of the past. After that dream beneath the Golden Tree, he was no longer the young man who could only hesitate before the sword of the past.
“William appreciates you. Neither of us supports the council’s plan, but we are pleased; the old guy believes you can do more. On this point, I lack his confidence. But I must admit that by now, meeting you once again, I have to say I probably underestimated you and made a bet I was bound to lose.”
“Since you both don’t support it, why are you pleased?”
“Because William believes you possess extraordinary abilities. You have experiences unlike any other. You can achieve what others cannot. There are some things—these things that I, he, and the late lord cannot accomplish, but William believes you may be able to.”
“I, what virtue am I worthy of?” Brendel was slightly taken aback and felt a shiver run down his spine. The compliments seemed to imply something deeper. What did they refer to as experiences unlike any other? Did that mean he had been seen through? While this sounded somewhat absurd, it didn’t seem absolutely impossible in the eyes of William Pister—who stood at the pinnacle of power and was one of the few capable of wielding spells to glean the future.
But what did it have to do with the late lord Eke?
Brendel frowned, vaguely sensing he was grasping something but still found himself in a maze shrouded in fog, only occasionally clearing a part of the mist to glimpse the truth.
“Are you trying to make me a proxy and go to war with the Empire?” He suddenly recalled what the Wind Elves had done back then; the Delilah dynasty of the Elves had promised the late lord Eke just that. Had the Buds dispatched their fleet grandly to repeat the tales of the past?
“You think too much, young boy.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You can rest assured; going to war with the Empire brings no benefits to us and is entirely unnecessary.”
“There must be a reason for such actions.”
“I’ve already mentioned the reason earlier.”
“So it’s still related to that battle in Alca?”
Turiman slowly nodded. “Yes, we’ve digressed; that battle is indeed the main topic.”
Brendel looked around. Turiman’s barrier spell still separated the two realms, making the sounds entirely isolated. He suddenly found his suspicion somewhat amusing; how could the master of the Silver Fortress’s spell fail early? He sensed that the conversation ahead might not be so simple.
“You haven’t answered my question, Lord Turiman.”
“Regarding that question, I can only say you guessed half of it.”
“Half?”
“Because no one ever intentionally did anything to conceal the battlefield of the final battle. The space in the Alca region is unstable; that place vanished without a trace after the final battle, falling into the void or being swallowed by the sea of magic. The entire space was consumed by chaotic energy. Afterward, the Altania mountain range experienced several consecutive earthquakes, and the terrain of the region completely changed. No one knows where the battlefield is buried.”
“Vanished?”
This answer also caught Brendel by surprise.
“Not entirely; it wasn’t an ordinary earthquake, but spatial turmoil formed after the firm laws and orders were destroyed. The chaotic laws created a bizarre area in Alca where common sense does not apply. In fact, over the centuries, the battlefield of the last battle has appeared before the eyes of mortals several times, like a ghost—suddenly appearing, then vanishing without a trace. On one occasion, it was discovered by a wandering clan of Minren, and on another occasion, it was intruded upon by descendants of ancient Dwarves.”
Turiman replied slowly; his voice was calm, but the things described were exceedingly strange: “There were several more appearances afterward, but none were known to mortals. To monitor its traces, the Buds built countless observation points along this rift.”
“Wait, you’re talking about this rift? Are there other rifts?”
“Of course, our world is a whole. When Tiamat’s laws show cracks, it inevitably causes a chain reaction. In fact, this rift points south toward a certain area of Anzeruta, where strange things often occur, giving rise to vast Black Forests. Further south is the Loop of Trade Winds, while to the north is the Great Glacier, forming a standard arc line. This line is so long that even the Buds cannot observe its endpoint; they can only speculate that if this circle has a center, it should be above the great plain in the east—the legendary great plain, where the people of gold and silver wandered in the chaotic age, overgrown with thorns, yet never seen by anyone. Besides this main rift, there are smaller rifts, such as the one you know—the Dead Frost Forest.”
Brendel was silent for a long time. Even considering his experiences in the game, this was the first time he had heard such shocking news. If this respected scholar wasn’t deceiving him, the information subtly hinted at something, indicating that the legends that only existed in the background of the game might very well be true. Brendel now believed that Turiman likely had not lied, as the other party had no need to use such obvious falsehoods that could be easily recognized, not to mention that some of his own experiences had vaguely validated parts of this content.
He almost immediately thought of an even more chilling matter; players had once researched the whereabouts of the unforgettable Nameless Ones in the Dead Frost Forest in the game. Those who had lost their memories, identities, and even their own selves—entities that existed between humans and souls—always lined up, moving through the forest and enticing more ignorant souls to join them. These Nameless Ones would enter the Darksea at some northern coast of the Dead Frost Forest, their direction of travel seeming to always create a huge arc tangent to the northern coastline of Erluin.
Players had racked their brains to study this enigmatic route but ultimately found nothing, attributing it to the cruel whims of the game designers.
However, at this moment, a brand-new possibility surged uncontrollably into Brendel’s mind.
Those Nameless Ones were advancing along the rift Turiman had mentioned. But what kind of power, what rationale, drove them to do so? What had caused these people to get lost?
Just thinking of those pale-skinned, hollow-eyed wanderers, Brendel couldn’t help but shiver. He suddenly remembered having met Viscount Test in Bruglas; perhaps it was the same group that took him away. What was that guy trying to hint at? Unfortunately, he had completely missed the situation back then and lost the opportunity.
After quite some time, Brendel forced himself to push those thoughts out of his mind, managing to digest the news with difficulty as he looked up at Turiman. He was already sweating slightly on his forehead.
This was just the beginning—
“So… the parties involved in that battle in Altania all… stumbled into the final battlefield?”
“Still half—indeed, we stumbled into the battlefield of the final battle, or rather, it appeared before our eyes like a ghost. At that time, the commander of the Temple of Fire’s coalition was your grandfather. As his aide, I immediately sensed the seriousness of the problem. Our opponents, too, had capable individuals among the Wind Elves. We quickly decided to cease hostilities and planned to withdraw from the battlefield under the mediation of the Buds’ envoy.” Turiman replied, as if recalling the circumstances of that day. Brendel could easily imagine an ancient battlefield quietly appearing in the mist between the two armies—how eerie the scene must have been.
“What happened afterward?” he asked, understanding that if Turiman’s claim of both sides peacefully withdrawing from battle was true, many subsequent events likely wouldn’t have occurred.
“We made a mistake—indeed, a negligence.”
“Negligence?”
“You mentioned earlier that mortals could approach Alca and find the final battlefield, certainly under the permission of some party; I’d say you guessed half. The other half is that this is exactly the case, but the hidden hand was not the Buds—”
“—but the Dragons.”
“Dragons?” Brendel was greatly taken aback.
Turiman lifted his head and quietly gazed at the horizon. “Like the Minren, the body of the Giant Dragon flows with golden blood. Not all dragons sided with the Four Sages during the Saint War; you should know this.”
Brendel did know this; Dragons were still divided into good and evil factions today, stemming from the rift during the time of the Saint War. But no one knew the reason why Dragons had fought alongside mortals, just as few understood the sacred pact between the Buds, Kewal, and mortals—why the generations of silver and gold would abandon their era to fight for the age of mortals?
Perhaps it was a promise made by the Azure Knights, for that prophesied age of mortals.
But perhaps not.
“One faction of the Dragons stood firmly allied with Odin—the Dark Dragon.”
“You mean the Seven Dragon Kings, the sinister Fyseacaes.”
“Exactly. After the end of the Saint War, as a consequence of their defeat, Fyseacaes was sealed beneath the Great Glacier by Eogwenlos and Theoasklaz.”
Brendel recognized the two renowned names following that: Eogwenlos, the previous Dragon King, almost deified and known as the Sovereign of the Skies, and Theoasklaz, the famous Dragon of Heroes, who later played a crucial role in helping humanity resist the invasion of dusk during the Wolf Calamity. But he didn’t speak, merely continuing to listen to Turiman: “However, Fyseacaes’s fall did not eradicate the Dragons’ ambition. In fact, to this day, there are still some Dragons from the previous age secretly active in the human world. Due to my oversight, three dragons named Obsidian, Atakasha, and… Gwenethlyn infiltrated the coalition. They have been lurking beside the Empire’s previous old emperor for many years, accompanying Princess (Female) as royal knights during the Holy Wars… I’m sure you’ve figured out who they are.”
“That Princess (Female)… is…”
Brendel only felt a buzzing in his head; several crucial threads of information flashed like lightning in the dark of his thoughts. In the pitch black, the truth seemed to have surfaced.
“You guessed correctly; her name is Constance, the Flower of the Princess, the jewel in the palm of His Majesty the Emperor.”
