The Amber Sword

The first swordsman under Count Randner had his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. Brendel clearly borrowed the additional speed from his horse to make it a perfect strike of power and speed. The expected outcome was that he had to recover from the feedback.

People in this world called it ‘stiffness’—

But Brendel did not seem like he had that problem. No matter how the swordsman looked at it, the youth was exerting his entire force behind the sword again, and it was no different from the earlier attack.

It was as if he had violated the laws of mechanics.

Almost as if it was two separate people meting two separate strikes......

The Gold-ranked swordsman under Count Randner could not understand, but there was no need to try and do so. If he did not block the incoming attack again, he would be bidding his farewell to this world. And yet he knew that if he tried to block it, he would be smashed to the ground as he had not even regained his balance.

But there was no choice and he raised his sword to block the attack as a sheen of perspiration erupted from his face. He only felt the entire world swirl as a massive force slammed down on him, causing him to tumble across the ground as though he had been swatted like a fly.

The twin strikes from Brendel were accomplished in an instant, and to the soldiers’ eyes, he had somehow split into two, striking down that Gold-ranked swordsman as though the latter had been learning how to use the sword for the first time.

It was only at this moment when that swordsman’s partner was in striking range, who was gritting his teeth with utter bewilderment.

If it were a normal duel where everyone was in striking range, then Brendel’s feat would not have mattered that much as the swordsman could at least cover for each other.

The youth’s third move started once again— The second swordsman could still see Brendel’s sword terminating at where it was supposed to end, but the youth’s weapon was already somehow raised above his head.

Supposing the second swordsman was instead a new player in the game, then he would have slapped the ground with teary eyes: This bastard was cheating!

That man’s reaction was to frantically deal with the sight before him. If he still did not join in the battle, then his partner would definitely be killed.

[All three of us are clearly Gold-rankers, but this boy dealt with my partner in less than three moves without even breaking a sweat. How is this possible!]

He swung his sword.

Logically speaking, Brendel might have swung his sword consecutively, but he abandoned all notions of defense. Taking advantage of this chance should be enough to rescue the swordsman on the ground, surely the youth had to defend himself, right?

But the second swordsman found himself in a daze as he was proven completely wrong.

Brendel did not care about the incoming attack and continued running his sword into the disbelieving swordsman on the ground. The latter’s expression was asking the youth seemed to be asking whether he hated him that much till he would throw his life away.

But it simply ended with the fourth sword appearing above Brendel’s head striking at the second swordsman.

With a perfect force exerted with his entire body.

“This simply cannot be possible!” The second swordsman wanted to fling his sword at Brendel’s head as he roared out.

Brendel accurately struck the incoming sword and pushed it away, and the same event that just transpired was repeated again. Six sword strikes and two Gold-ranked swordsmen were stabbed through the heart as the final blow.

It was all over in a few seconds.

A normal person trying to kill a dog might not find it as easy what Brendel had accomplished.

The people on the battlefield who saw Brendel’s feat was silent.

Brendel’s reaction was to wipe Halran Gaia on the second swordman’s clothes. He then observed his surroundings. Wherever his gaze went, the soldiers retreated like a falling tide. This somehow chained an avalanche of fear, quickly turning into registered information.

Several hundred soldiers screamed as Brendel started moving on his horse again. The frontline threw down their weapons and fled, which in turn triggered the majority of the soldiers, obliterating the final shred of confidence that they had, fleeing in large droves.

The remaining men left in the battlefield who still faithfully held on their positions were the knights of Lord Kruss. Brendel looked at him once again, their distance between each other less than thirty meters. The youth moved in closer while the wolves swarmed around him, but it seemed like the knights had no intention of fighting. Instead, they separated and allowed a path towards Lord Kruss, who had drawn out his sword.

In truth, Lord Kruss already knew that he lost, but he did not admit defeat.

This person had once left his comrades in the Kantnar battlefield, but he was now staying here steadfast on his horse with his hand firmly gripping on to his longsword. He commanded his knights to stay where they were as he challenged Brendel to a duel.

The aged swordsman stretched out his left hand, and the youth affirmed his thoughts:

A duel it was.

Brendel nodded.

Lord Kruss raised his longsword and yelled at the top of his lungs: “Your sword shall shine for all eternity, Aouine!”

The wolves also separated.

Brendel urged his horse forward, his speed at a moderate pace.

Lord Kruss charged down from the hill, while Brendel leisurely made his way to the summit. Two people crossed each other. The youth passed his longsword from his right to his left, then grabbed onto Lord Kruss’s longsword with Bahamut’s Grasp. There was no fancy technique involved; it was a simple thrust from his longsword to the opponent’s chest.

There was a loud metallic grind as Brendel’s longsword was forced through steel, and Lord Kruss crashed noisily onto the ground from his horse. The veteran soldier who experienced the November War tumbled a few times before he finally stopped with his dusty face looking up to the sky.

He then used his last remaining strength to look at the youth who sat upright on his mount and spoke with a thin voice:

“Your glory,” He coughed a few times, the echo within the metallic helmet slurring his words, “that you bring....... I accept it.”

The youth bowed in return. “The truth is that they never blamed you. That war was not your fault.”

“...... How could that be? How would you know that?” His words were peppered with coughs.

“That oaktree from Dakota’s hometown. His last request was for you to take care of it. That was a tree that his father planted when he was young.” Brendel answered in a soft voice.

“It’s really him......” The knight started to cry like a child: “I let them down......”

Brendel remained silent. The Kantnar battlefield was part of the November War, a war that was a mistake. Lord Kruss’s story was a quest in the game and he was full of regrets to what he did in the past. Ten years later, he would extend this mission to the gamers whom he recognized. It was a famous quest called ‘atonement’. Brendel admired this old knight considerably because he was at least willing to atone for his actions. In truth, he did not commit something of a heinous crime and merely followed an order.

Eventually, Lord Kruss’s sobs turned to silence. The youth sighed. The bloodshed on this battlefield was all Aouine’s, but he had to do this act in order to stop the civil wars in the kingdom. Perhaps this kingdom could only be rebirthed after experiencing a baptism of blood and flames.

He looked up at the remaining knights on the hill. Some of them were running the previous Lord Graudin’s uniform.

“Leave,” he said, “this is no longer your battlefield.”

But the knights shook their heads.

“We don’t know what you meant, Ser, but our Lord said that you brought glory back to him. It is a noble act, and we thank you. However, this is the place where we fight to the end.”

There was a chorus of swords drawn from their sheaths.

Brendel sighed.

Once he turned his head away, the black wolves swarmed towards the hill’s peak.

============ Lord Palas’s POV ============

The Highlanders were fleeing because of fear. The death of Lord Kruss had broken the combined army of that region. The lord of the Grey Bear region kept hesitating and did not advance his army.

[There’s still no sign of Madara’s army, but that’s how it is with dead people, they can’t be trusted. The situation of the battlefield seemed to have turned in the blink of an eye. We had such a clear and stable advantage and it’s gone in an instant. Now there is an empty void in that area because of how Lord Kruss’s army fled.]

Lord Palas who was further back suddenly felt deep fatigue within him. When he looked around him, the knights still had the desire to gain victory in their eyes. However, the dead soldiers on the battlefield were currently stacked across each other with broken spears and shattered armor. Their white flags were split and dyed in blood, resembling the sunset’s hue.

It was already defeat.

But he could still retreat to Palas and the rebels could not prevent him from leaving. As long as he still lived, he could make another coalition army. Even though Madara was a snake and a rat, they could still be a force to be relied on if they believed there was victory to be found.

And yet......

[Victory is so close that my hands are within reach. But why has it turned into bubbles in the blink of an eye? Or is it an unrealistic dream from the beginning? Oh Aouine, why has this outcome happened?]

The familiar past was long gone, and the only things left were the memories’ taste. A senior knight leading the younger knights to a battle, teaching them the kingdom’s creeds, and these beliefs would be passed down from generation to generation.

Lord Palas was also young once, and he still could remember the sagas of the senior knights before him.

But they were no longer sung any longer—

This rotten kingdom was like walls riddled with holes. The old knight thought he was seeing light shining through the holes, each ray seemingly reflecting hope. He greatly desired to see what was beyond the walls, but it was fated that he would be crushed by the walls that collapsed onto him.

The news from the left and right flanks continued to pour in. He was unable to control the coalition army any longer. Most of the soldiers from the other regions had fled, and many smaller lords escaped to the backlines, but there was no use in mocking these cowards.

The old knight led his three thousand men from his own region and advanced; the colors of the sunlight painted his helmet.

He was going to put the final punctuation mark on this battle......