Chapter 985: Act 158 – War Stone Tablet: Dragon Skin IV
The gray explosive crystal accurately landed at the feet of the five undead. Simultaneously, the five undead lowered their heads, and the flickering flames of the souls within their eye sockets reflected a blinding flash. After a loud bang, a shockwave swept through the round hall, and even Brendel and the others far on the other side felt a gust of wind hit them, carrying with it a vast amount of debris and dust that stung their faces and clothes. But Brendel paid no mind to dodging the flying stones; since the attack had begun, there was no need to hesitate. He knew full well that an explosive crystal would pose no real threat to those undead. With a swift motion, he drew the Frost Chanter Xina and raised the blade, cleaving it toward the direction of the five undead.
Dust swirled in the hall, and the area where the five undead stood already glimmered faintly with protective spells. Just then, a ghostly blue sword light cut through the swirling dust, slicing toward the protective barrier. With a sharp crack, the undead wizard had barely set up its shield when a terrifying blizzard surged toward it. It opened its mouth, but before it could utter a sound, the bone-chilling cold pierced through the gray protective spell and its body, transforming it into a frost statue encased in ice for ten millennia.
The power unleashed by Frost Chanter Xina in this confined space was astonishing. In an instant, three of the remaining skeletal remains among the five turned into ice sculptures. The residual force continued forward, freezing the debris, stone doors, columns, and the corridor behind them; the underground temple instantly transformed into a world of ice and snow.
However, this powerful attack could only be used once. Brendel watched as the ghostly blue sheen of his sword gradually dimmed, estimating that it would take a long time to recharge again. He had previously consulted the giant artisans, and they had said that the sword of Sibers was not irreparable, but it required treasures imbued with strong water elemental power to reactivate it. According to the giants, the best option would be the Heart of the Shallow Sea—the treasure of the water element realm, or at the very least, a Frost Pearl. Both of these items were beyond what Brendel dared to think of at the moment.
Having landed a significant blow, only the Moonlit Knight and the always-passive undead remained on the opposing side—two of the most troublesome enemies he had anticipated, especially the latter he had long suspected to be quite formidable. The Moonlit Knight, caught within the attack range of Frost Chanter Xina, could only struggle to hold its ground, while the undead cloaked in black seemed completely unaffected; not even a corner of its cloak was disturbed by the icy winds that Xina summoned.
Fortunately, Brendel had a backup plan. Seeing the undead block the blizzard from Frost Chanter Xina, he reached beneath his cloak to draw his weapon without a second thought, pulling out the soul crystal he had obtained earlier. He aimed it directly at the foe and activated the power within. A shadow surged from the dark crystal, seeming to leap across the space of the round hall, hitting the undead’s head squarely.
Don’t think that because this was black magic, it could not inflict damage to the undead. Spells like Soul Spike, which directly harmed the soul, were particularly effective against them. After all, they were creatures driven by the power of souls and dark magic—soul strength being their essence. Spells that harmed the soul could not only affect them but often dealt double damage. Soul Spike was an extremely high-level ninth-circle spell in black magic, so its power was unimaginable. Even a formidable undead would not be able to escape unscathed; at the moment of being struck, the undead’s head tilted back slightly, displaying an expression of intense pain.
However, that slight backward tilt revealed half of a face hidden under a shadowed hood, and Brendel was taken aback to see a pale, pointed chin belonging to a woman. The undead emitted a sound of anguish, a chilling groan that further revealed her identity—it was undeniably the voice of a cold female.
A woman? A vampire?
An aristocrat of blood from the north of the Sea of the Moon?
Brendel was momentarily stunned, but quickly regained his composure. Years of experience in countless battles had instilled innate reflexes; once he made a move, there was no stopping unless the enemy was thoroughly defeated. In that split second, his body moved, and with a flick of his wrist, the Sword of Earth in his right hand dashed forth, infused with black light toward the still-in-pain advanced undead.
He had long noticed that neither the senior’s gray crystal nor his own Frost Chanter Xina’s blizzard, nor the dark tendrils from Medephis and the Moonlit Knight, had elicited a response from Sir Roslin’s undead. The skeletal knight seemed to guard something in this hall, remaining completely still as long as that thing was not disturbed. Understanding this, he hesitated no longer, directing most of his focus back to the high-level vampire lady while leaving just a sliver of attention on Sir Roslin’s undead.
But he soon found himself with no time to spare.
For when he struck, Brendel felt a subtle shift in his heart.
This was like a sword he had drawn before.
This sword pierced through the shackles of space and time like black lightning. The blade was still at its starting point, yet its tip was already before the high-level undead. The scene that unfolded at that moment was exceedingly bizarre; two shadows of Brendel appeared in the space, as if the flow of time had severely distorted—one was withdrawing the sword, and the other was striking out. At this moment, the Moonlit Knight standing in front seemed to finally realize that someone had crossed its defensive line. It turned in surprise and anger, slowly preparing to face him, as if time had become a tangible liquid, binding its hands and feet.
This sword could almost be said to be the pinnacle of his swordsmanship since arriving in this world. Regarding his swordsmanship—Queen Wind had openly stated before leaving that he was almost ready to graduate, and Gray Saint Mephistopheles had expressed admiration for his skills, even respect. Because in that last moment before drawing, Brendel’s profound fear towards the high-level undead compelled him to strike with all his might, seeking to kill with one hit.
But in that instant of the strike, he finally recalled why it felt so familiar.
At that moment, he was transported back to the battlefield of Arkash, filled with swirling ghosts, bone dragons, and countless bones and corpses, an overwhelming tide bearing down on them. It had been the same sword, representing the peak of his era, and he dimly sensed he had once touched the apex of something.
That vague existence, the ultimate secret of the universe.
The power of existence.
As he wielded this sword, time, space, and pure energy all became illusory. He seemed to enter a wondrous world where conventional concepts did not exist, only endless silver lines. The silver lines seemed to constitute the entire universe—sun, moon, stars, mountains, rivers, and breezes through forests were not tangible images anymore but a myriad of esoteric lines and runes of law, as if describing the truth of this world in an ancient language.
In that moment, he glimpsed the world’s mysteries; laws bound the elements, descending upon the turbulent sea of magical energy. The cold moonlight engulfed the shimmering surface, forming a giant mountain—that was the Peak Mountain.
Yet all this illusion shattered in an instant as the blade continued forward, time flowed on, and the realm of these laws became fragmented, reconstructing the scene of the underground hall. As if just a fraction of a breath had paused, he clearly saw the face of the undead lady.
A fraction of a moment passed.
“Stop that Moonlit Knight!” Baijia decisively issued the command.
Medephis and Andrigraphis’s abyssal tendrils immediately ensnared the Moonlit Knight’s hands and feet. They sought not to inflict harm but merely to delay him, preventing that guy from assisting the high-level undead behind. Meanwhile, Himelam finally unveiled the bundle she held, retrieving the fully assembled War Mountain. She raised the staff and uttered a single word: “Eaam (Earth)!” With a powerful strike on the ground, visible cracks extended from where her hammer fell, rapidly reaching the feet of the Moonlit Knight. The knight was directly blasted away, crashing heavily into the nearby wall.
At this moment, Brendel finally struck with his sword at the vampire lady.
In a series of system prompts—your swordsmanship level has broken through, reaching level 16; your swordsmanship level has broken through, reaching level 17; your swordsmanship level has broken through, reaching level 18; you have touched the realm of the saint, your swordsmanship level has broken through, reaching level 19—Brendel swung decisively at the vampire lady’s head. He was confident that even if he faced the Witch of Lies, Merilietra, again at that moment, he wouldn’t need Kehua’s intervention to claim her head.
But the vampire lady finally reacted at the last moment. She withdrew her weapon from beneath her cloak; it was a long, pitch-black scythe. The moment Brendel saw that scythe, he understood that she also had a dimensional rift, and as he beheld the scythe, he comprehended her identity.
A sharp metal clash rang out, piercing the air.
The vampire lady emitted a muffled groan of pain, hurtling backward with a crash into the wall, bringing it down with a resounding thud, burying her beneath the rubble. But just moments later, the stones crushed over her exploded, and she coughed as she climbed back up from the debris, staring at Brendel with shocked uncertainty.
Her hood had long been torn to shreds by the impact, revealing her true face beneath.
In fact, it could hardly be considered a true face—she wore a mask obscuring the upper half of her face, an exceedingly strange mask: half black, half white, one side weeping, and the other smiling, with a black tear depicted on the crying half of her face. The moment Brendel saw that mask, he completely understood who she was.
“Black Knight White.”
“Eh, you know me?” The woman paused slightly, coughing twice before she realized: “I see, it’s Meriditra who told you.”
“Meriditra?” This time it was Brendel’s turn to be stunned. He recognized who she was because she was a well-known figure in the game—the Black Knight White of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in Madara. The White Knight among the Four Horsemen had already been slain by him, but the remaining three were no less formidable. He calculated the time; this woman should have already obtained the legacy of the Bone Dragon King Okanxin. No wonder she had such power.
It was said that after acquiring the Bone Dragon King’s legacy, Black Knight White’s strength surged to the top of the Four Horsemen. At this moment, she should at least possess power beyond the pinnacle.
Brendel felt a mix of understanding wash over him; fortunately, he had previously ambushed her with Soul Spike and had also experienced a mysterious realization during the attack, recalling his swordsmanship level from the game; otherwise, this strike would have been truly dangerous. A dangerous light flickered in his eyes as he discerned a layer of nearly indistinguishable gray field unfurling behind the Black Knight. It was different from Gray Saint Mephistopheles’ field of gray—undoubtedly, it was the power of soul elements.
The highest-tier element of the soul, the Pale Plain.
This woman had been quietly unfolding the realm of the apex.
Brendel thought to himself that it was fortunate he had encountered numerous experts from the realm of the pinnacle; otherwise, he might have been tricked by this woman. Furthermore, he secretly admired the Black Knight for thinking to cloak her realm with smoke. She must have faked her fall into that wall to create the current atmosphere. However, this also reflected that she was heavily injured; otherwise, she would not need such small tricks.
With this understood, Brendel felt a sense of calm settle within him, deciding not to expose her little ruse. Instead, he feigned ignorance and asked, “Do you know Meriditra?”
At this moment, he caught sight of the Moonlit Knight starting to rise from the ground. White glanced in that direction, appearing unconcerned as she smiled slightly, her voice hollow: “Of course, Meriditra is my only sister. If you dare to wrong her, I will not spare you.”
“Wait… You say Meriditra is…? You are…?” Brendel exclaimed with genuine shock, looking at the woman incredulously. Was this some kind of joke? Meriditra was the little princess of the Silver Elf Empire, and the last princess in the Saint’s War. If so, did that mean her sister was—?
Indeed, White nodded: “That was indeed my past identity, but the Saint’s War has long since passed. I no longer wish to be associated with that identity. I wronged Meriditra in my lifetime and have no face to meet her again. I hope you can treat her well. Although she is a princess, she is a kind and simple girl.” Upon hearing this, Brendel was entirely convinced of White’s identity. Even if she was not a grand princess of the Silver Elf Empire, she was certainly someone who had a close relationship with Meriditra back in the day; otherwise, she would not know such secrets.
His expression turned serious, but as if sensing Brendel’s demeanor, White smiled: “My Lord, you’re interested in these tablets. My goal is Sir Roslin’s undead. Since you are Meriditra’s lord, we need not fight; how about we each take what we need?”
Brendel let out a cold laugh at her words: “In that case, why doesn’t Miss White first retract her domain?”
White’s face paled at this, as if startled like a frightened cat. She not only did not immediately withdraw her powers but instead quickened her pace, attempting to draw Brendel into her realm. However, before she could complete this maneuver, her expression changed, and she began to tremble in fear as she noticed Brendel suddenly taking out a long, conical object from the void.
In that moment, she finally understood why Brendel was so fearless.
She had fallen into a trap.
“No!” White screamed: “I am Meriditra’s sister; you cannot—ah!” The scream turned into a heart-wrenching wail. Brendel had no intention of listening to any of her explanations. It didn’t matter whether she was Meriditra’s sister; he would first plunge the Godslayer Evil-Banishing Spike into her, knowing that although it would severely damage someone’s power system, effectively destroying their understanding of laws, it was still difficult to straightforwardly kill a person—of course, William was the unfortunate exception.
White’s realm of the apex shattered in an instant, as she trembled and fell to her knees as if gravely injured, even rolling her eyes back. She looked up at Brendel, trembling in disbelief as she stammered, “You… you actually have this thing… this dimensional rift… I, I understand now. Amann was killed by you… So that’s how it is…” The poor Black Knight still hadn’t finished her sentence when she suddenly groaned again; the Soul Spike, which had infiltrated her soul mark, launched a second strike. Already gravely injured, she could no longer hold on, her eyes rolling back in a faint.
