TL: Boss battle!
Chapter 19 – The silver blade, the white knight
—————– Medes POV —————–
Medes suddenly realized he had suddenly lost the ability to control the battefield. He had nearly ten thousand undead under his command, but he was unable to use them effectively. He first thought that the enemy had made their way around his army after receiving the initial reports of losing two companies, and thus sent out his army by spreading them out like two wings, with Ebdon and Wesker leading them.
But not even half an hour later, Gloeb and Ladios lost both their left flanks.
[This group of refugees…. No, this secret army… Given their speed and effective tactics, they are as good as our main force, or even better than that. Aouine’s imperial guards? Or The Knights of Freedom? It feels like someone of great importance is leading the refugees.]
Medes looked at the map which had circles and lines drawn on it. It was apparent as to what the enemy wanted to accomplish.
[They’re trying to break out of the siege by force! The enemy is moving in straight lines at our positions, cutting through our forces like a sharp knife into our heart.]
Medes had a series of cold shudders as he analyzed the map. He suddenly stood up and overturned the table with a furious roar. He went outside of the camp and looked at the dark forest. The undead troops were outside waiting for his orders, but he did not have the confidence in his judgment this time.
[What army is this? When did Aouine have such a commander?]
——————– Brendel POV ————————
TL: Some music needed here.
The cavalry galloped through the valley like an unstoppable wave, and the earth shook under the horses’ charge.
Brendel raised his sword and pointed to a new direction. The glow of the Elven sword kept flickering as if it was a flag that was moving along with the wind, and it was the symbol of victory that the youth carried.
Some of the mercenaries were from the November’s war, some had experienced the Battle of Moonflowers, some had experienced Karsuk’s wars. Aouine had disappointed them repeatedly, as if the country was forever silent, its will buried under the annals of history, and the past glory would never belong to them again.
That is why they fought for money and became mercenaries, and their goals were to pursue rewards and treasures, and had long ago abandoned the fame and faith as warriors.
But there was no one who did not crave victory, even if he was a veteran who had experienced countless battles. Today Brendel had shown them that the banners and flags that had been trampled upon hundreds and thousands of time could be picked up. Today he had shown them that victory could be obtained, regardless of what motives they had, be it for glory or for the sake of the unfortunate and lamentable refugees.
As long as they followed him, victory, was this easy.
Their hearts were set ablazed by his words and spurred on by his actions. If today, they had to believe in a legend, they would believe he was undefeatable.
Each time they charged at the enemy, hundred of skeletons were easily destroyed and laid down to their eternal rest. None of the enemy commanders stood a chance—
These frightening undead soldiers might have made Fortress Riedon’s formal army tremble, but when it came to facing them, they would be turned into dust!
At that very moment, the riders believed that they were invincible.
Brendel pointed at another direction, and they roared to acknowledge his order. No one seemed to know the meaning of exhaustion, and even the militia who marched quickly behind them moved with vigor. They had only one thought in their minds:
Advance, continue to advance, as quickly as possible!
No one had the energy to consider other things, as their energy was spend on generating adrenaline. Their pupils were dilated and they struggled to breath in as much air as possible, to the point where they had to exchange their lives to drag down an enemy to hell.
Kill the Madara undead!
They could almost see the youth’s sword pointing to a door, and behind it was the pathway to a miracle.
Brendel finally saw an undead group in front of him. He believed that he had broke through the second or third line of defence.
[This time we’re near the heart of the undead army. Is it Ebdon or Wesker, or the ‘Undead Maggot’ Medes?]
A huge group of gleaming white skeletons were marching beside the river, many times more than what they had encountered. He narrowed his eyes as he saw two groups of Black Warriors beside the commander.
[A high-ranking commander!]
Brendel found that he had caught a big fish. He’s not entirely certain whether he could devour it, but he was already on a road of no return, and he had no choice to defeat it.
He raised his sword up, the light from his sword shining to the point that everyone around it felt blinded by it. The wind echoed deafeningly in his ears, and he could not hear any other sounds other this own breathing. He shouted as loudly as he could:
“Riders, charge!”
“””Attack!!!”””
There were forty-nine riders along with him, but it was as if there was a dam had suddenly broken from the mountain valley. The noise made from their roars echoed throughout the area as they charged straight at their leader.
‘The Pale Knight’ Ebdon’s expression immediately changed.
Just like Medes, it had wondered who the commander was and what division the mysterious army belonged to. However, it did not expect to meet under such circumstances.
When it turned its head around, the blazing frost flames that leaked out from his eyes through the helmet saw the dauntless group of riders charging down the valley, with a youth leading its charge with his right hand high up with a sword that glowed as bright as the stars.
For one moment, it thought it had returned to the old era where knights still believed in their chivalry.
It had remembered, that once upon a time the proud knights of Kirrlutz rode on grand gryphons and dignified horses, without any reliance on any tactics, charged straight at the enemy.
In this world, there was no other army like them, as if they were born to charge, and even if they were to perish they had to die during charging. Their lives were simply meant for that one moment of glory and victory.
Ebdon found that its heart loosened for one single moment as it thought it had returned to that year. Under that army who viewed death as the highest honor… It lost the best moment to react. When Ebdon regained its senses and ordered the skeletons to get ready, everything was too late.
Brendel’s army was like the sharpest lance that aimed to strike the heart of the undead’s formation, as if he was a king leading his knights forward.
“Necromancers!” Ebdon pulled out his own sword and shrieked from his soul.
Ten necromancers raised their bone staffs together.
A black tempest suddenly appeared in front of the undead army. The hurricane of darkness pulled everything up, grinding rocks into dust and the trees wilted as they became black smoke, rising up to the air in a scream.
Ebdon felt it had lost its breath, almost wondering if it had seen an illusion. It was not possible for the current Aouine to possess a group of cavalry like that… Then The Pale Knight realized, that it did not need to breathe since a very long time ago.
It sighed inwardly.
But the next moment, the flames in its eyes stopped moving and its mouth widened a little.
The youth burst out from the tempest. A blue magical sigil was shining on his right hand, and when he pointed his sword forward, the tempest immediately moved towards towards the undead forces.
At that moment, Brendel was the ruler of the tempest and he yelled out two words.
“Magic Control!”
Rows of skeletons crashed into each other, and a few of the skeletons’ Soul Fire were blown out as the tempest blew straight into them.
But Brendel suffered damage as he had charged through the tempest, and he fell off the horse.
Everyone in the battlefield stopped their actions when he saw him falling off.
Freya who was leading the militia who happened to see this scene by coincidence covered her mouth with her hand with a silent scream forming in her.
[Even if it is him, he can also collapse?]
The mercenaries who followed him lost their grips on the horses’ reins, and finally woke up from their dream.
But Brendel quickly shrugged off the effects and readied himself in an instant before he even touched the ground.
[This is the best moment. Charge. Activate.]
Once his feet landed on the ground, he jumped up and launched himself like an arrow. A silver line streaked across the battlefield.
Everyone watched that striking silver line—- which symbolized a miracle.
Once the line came to a stop, twelve skeletons were severed into half. Brendel had jumped straight into the midst of undead with his sword held high up.
He looked at the gigantic undead knight before him that was covered in white armor, as well as the frost colored flames in his eyes.
[So it’s you. The Pale Knight Ebdon, former hero of Aouine.] Brendel looked at him and readied his sword, a thin gathering of wind forming on the gleaming sword.
“Your road ends here, young man!” Ebdon looked at Brendel as he parried his sword.
[A silver-ranked knight.] Brendel did not fight the impact from the opponent’s sword and retreated immediately.
[This is going to be difficult.]
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