Brand raised his sword to block, a gust of wind pressure exploding from the connection between the elf sword and Pale Tooth, blowing his hair back. He squinted and slid backward with the force, feeling as though half his body were being torn apart.
Although he had so far avoided being struck thanks to his experience, the life value projected on his retina had already dropped by more than 30 points. Brand understood this was due to the impact on his internal organs, which couldn’t fully dissipate the force. This was also because his constitution had reached nearly 7 energy levels, far more resilient than an average person’s—had it been anyone else, they would’ve been killed by just one blow, their organs shattered from the shock.
But what made him secretly curse was that Abberton seemed aware of this as well, each strike pressing harder and harder, giving him no chance to catch his breath. Several times, Brand couldn’t help but wonder if this guy even cared about his own army; although his side was also near the brink of collapse, the rows of skeleton soldiers in the valley were similarly struggling to hold out.
Did this guy think he alone could be stronger than an entire army?
Brand might not have known that his absurd thought was actually closest to the truth. While the ’White Knight’ Abberton had been a hero in his lifetime in Erune, now as an undead knight, his former life was no more than a footnote. In Vaun, the undead were beings that twisted the natural laws—in many teachings of light, they were classified as a desecration to the living because they were merely another form of power, another thought, operating what should’ve decayed and returned to the earth.
It was the person and yet not a person; for the undead, memories of their former lives were but fragments. There was a saying that the undead did have fears, and their greatest terror sprang from these memories—some undead would even get lost in these recollections and never find their way out.
For them, this was something even more dreadful than destruction itself. Almost all undead avoided reminiscing because doing so inevitably plunged them into fear.
But the ’White Knight’ Abberton may have been a special case among them; this knight often got lost in memories of the past. It recalled the battles on the Golden Flower Plateau, as if observing everything from another person’s perspective. The slaughter in its memories made it even more calm and ruthless.
Hence, at this moment, the high-ranking Madara general, the Apocalypse ’White Knight’, was more focused on how to strangle this potential threat to the dark kingdom in the cradle.
Clearly, in its view, the threat of an excellent, potential commander far outweighs the threat of a ragtag bunch.
It would rather forfeit victory in this battle than let this young man live.
However, Brand’s performance had far exceeded this undead knight’s expectations. It knew well the styles of Erune’s swordsmanship, and Brand had obviously learned the most basic kind taught in the military, mixed with some superficial elements of court swordsmanship. Overall, it could barely be considered as scraping the bottom of the barrel, yet this bare minimum had repeatedly thwarted its efforts.
In the end, it opted to slowly wear down Brand with overwhelming power. This approach was somewhat dishonorable, particularly for Abberton, who had been a knight of noble birth both in life and undeath. But to uphold the oath under the three black scepters, under the Black Codex, it coldly chose to abandon its honor—
Because Abberton knew that many would make the same choice as it did, Madara had to make such choices.
"Martha above, Madara will forever be under your protection." The flame in the undead knight’s eyes was as cold as ice, the longsword in its hand mercilessly slashing down.
But just as it struck, Brand had already sidestepped early, as if he had foreseen its move. Each time, the Pale Tooth in the undead knight’s hand could only brush past the young man; when it did hit, Brand skillfully deflected the force with his rudimentary swordsmanship—
To Abberton, it was almost unbelievable.
Again! The soul fire in Abberton’s eye sockets flickered uncontrollably. From the start, it had switched between three different swordsmanship styles. Initially, it used the Erune Swordsmanship with which it was most familiar, then the Erune Court Swordsmanship, yet Brand had anticipated every move. It first thought the boy had an exceptional familiarity with his country’s swordsmanship, so it instinctively switched to Madara’s Military Black Cross Swordsmanship, only to find that Brand adapted even better to it...