Act Fifteen: Gleaming Thorn

The gargoyle stood nearly two meters tall, its devilish wings spanning over five meters even when half-folded. It lunged, almost filling the entire space. A fierce gust of wind swept over Brando, making him gasp. He immediately realized he had no room to dodge.

He quickly raised his right hand and shouted with all his might, "Oss!"

A buzzing sound—

The air in the narrow space expanded forward with a piercing shriek. With four successive bangs, the dimly glowing crystals embedded in the tomb wall exploded, starting from the nearest. The vortex-like wind blast struck the winged behemoth head-on. The knife-like currents shattered against the monster's cast-iron surface, but the gargoyle was also thrown back, tumbling like a kite with a broken string.

A heavy thud echoed from the distance, and dust billowed in the passageway.

Brando coughed in the swirling dust, grabbed his sword, and charged forward. His gaming experience told him that a gargoyle had 60 HP and wouldn't be easily defeated by a single wind blast.

Indeed, he found the heavily wounded gargoyle behind the dust. Half of its wing was completely shattered, and a new blue liquid flowed from it, forming a trail of bright lines on the ground. The monster opened its mouth and let out a series of screeches at Brando. Its other claw hung limply, clearly injured.

Strike while the iron is hot!

Without a second thought, Brando stepped forward, swung his sword with all his might, and struck the monster's chest with a clang. Caught off guard, the gargoyle stumbled back a step.

The second sword stroke followed immediately, but the gargoyle, now reacting, unfurled its wings and enclosed itself. With a shing, his longsword drew a bright spark across the iron-hard wing surface.

Despite expending all his strength, his attack was in vain. Brando felt the wounds all over his body threatening to reopen. However, he was not discouraged. The previous attacks were precisely to force the gargoyle into a defensive state—this was an opportunity, and Brando intended to seize it to get around the monster.

But the gargoyle shrieked, unfurled its wings, and unleashed four levels of power like a tidal wave. The longsword in Brando's hand slipped from his grasp and flew out—Romane's sword struck the tomb wall, creating a few sparks, and landed far down the other end of the passageway.

He himself was flung against the opposite wall. He grunted, feeling as though his entire body was falling apart. The only thing that remained clear was his thoughts: Brando suddenly realized that due to the monster's unexpected move, he was now very close to Gerrard's tomb chamber.

This thought acted like a tranquilizer, clarifying his mind and showing him what he needed to do. He shouted, regaining some strength, and endured the agonizing pain that felt like he was being torn apart. He struggled to his feet and sprinted towards that direction.

Gargoyles were mechanical creatures, often serving as tomb guardians in places like this. There must be something that could command it. That's right, the Gargoyle Charm!

Opportunity knocks but once.

The light ahead grew brighter, a soft white glow so warm it felt like it could penetrate the soul and bring peace. But Brando's heart still pounded. He had only a few seconds to live; success or failure hinged on this moment.

But then he heard the sound of something heavy rushing through the air behind him. The young man's heart tightened. His battle-hardened experience made him instinctively leap forward, but it was still a second too late. In mid-air, Brando felt his ankle tighten—the cold gargoyle had extended its long claws and grabbed his foot, dragging him back forcefully.

Brando crashed heavily onto the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He hadn't experienced worse in the game, but never had he felt such urgency in his heart. Failure meant death. What should he do?

His Indomitable Talent had ten seconds left. Should he take a gamble? The thought flashed like a beam of light into his heart.

He gritted his teeth, flipped over, and as if guided by inspiration, raised his right hand again. He aimed the cold, shimmering ring on his index finger at the gargoyle—

Eight seconds.

A hint of fear appeared in the gargoyle's green eyes. It shrieked and flew backward, instinctively releasing its grip on Brando's leg. The wizard artisans of Buga were undoubtedly the smartest people in the world. The war creatures they created were powerful and cunning, but at this moment, Brando was exploiting precisely that—

Wisdom is like a double-edged sword, or an apple hanging on a tree, tempting one to fall. However, once a creature possesses wisdom, it will learn to think, fear, and preserve itself.

Just like now.

Brando gasped for air, closed his eyes, and trembled with relief at his narrow escape. But our protagonist knew he couldn't relax; his time was running out.

Six seconds.

The young man almost used sheer willpower to force himself to flip over again. He crawled towards the tomb chamber filled with a sacred atmosphere. The first thing he saw was the sword displayed on the stone coffin: Gleaming Thorn. But he wasn't concerned with that now; he was looking for something else.

Three seconds.

His gaze locked onto a tomb vault on the left, the second level, the second compartment. He tore away the cobwebs and reached inside—as a swarm of insects crawled out, he retrieved the bottle.

It was a Templar-customized No. 12 long-necked bottle with a flame symbol. Brando flipped over and couldn't help but press the bottle against his chest, breathing deeply as if trying to savor this reprieve.

There was only one second left, his pounding heart reminded him. Brando, almost trembling, pulled out the cork and tilted his head back, downing the sloshing liquid. A bitter taste flooded his taste buds at first, but it was so pure that our protagonist couldn't help but praise the gods—

Holy Water No. 7 (16Oz). The White Robed Priestess Tamara ordered the production of this type of holy water in the Year of the朔花 to cope with the increasing consumption on the front lines. It was a substitute for Holy Water No. 5 and could restore 25 HP, but only to non-critical injuries.

Brando remembered this item being the most common consumable in the game.

The holy water took effect immediately. The first to recover were the abrasions on his limbs, which healed at an almost visible rate. Then came the sword wounds; a tingling sensation lasted for several minutes before subsiding. Brando tried taking a breath and found that the difficulty breathing had completely disappeared.

He opened his eyes and saw that the gargoyle outside had not pursued him. This was certainly not because it feared the Wind Queen Ring that much. Brando guessed it was because the monster simply couldn't enter the tomb chamber. With his gaming experience, he knew that many such knight tombs had sacred barriers that prevented evil creatures from desecrating them.

Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, sit up, and check his injuries.

The only remaining wound was likely from the first sword strike Brando had received. As it was a fatal wound to his vital area, Holy Water No. 7 had a very limited effect.

But it was more than enough. Brando stood up from the ground, wanting to shout with excitement. This was almost the best condition he had been in since coming to this world—no pain, the weakened state gone, his body's strength at his command. The young man let out a long breath, his heart stirred for a long time—Martha above, he had endured even in such a difficult state, even he couldn't believe it.

What pride, what glory this was.

He clenched his fist, finally managing to calm his turbulent emotions. For he still remembered Freya and Essen, and now it was time to carry out his next plan.

Of course, before that, he turned back, his gaze falling on the gleaming sword on the stone coffin—Gleaming Thorn. The leaf-shaped blade was uncommon in the human world, for it was an elven treasure sword.

Brando looked up along the silver thread woven into the hilt and indeed saw two rows of delicate elven script on the sword:

"Born of light, all enemies tremble—"

He hadn't seen this sword before, but he knew its reputation. Legend had it that Gleaming Thorn was a level nineteen ancient longsword, not only incredibly sharp but also capable of increasing the wielder's strength, willpower, and constitution by one level. At lower levels, what did a one-level increase in strength and constitution mean—it meant that if Brando used it, his strength and constitution would directly double to that of an ordinary person.

And most importantly, someone had seen Gleaming Thorn in the game possessing the coveted ability to detect undead. Whenever an undead creature approached the sword, it would emit a brilliant light, which was also the source of its name.

Brando looked at the sword with some emotion. In the game, elves had crafted seventeen similar swords, but by the end of the First Era, most had been collected and destroyed by Madara's dark lords, with only three remaining.

This was one of them.

He reached out and grasped the hilt, and a surge of power immediately flowed into his body. He felt himself become stronger and more agile, but before Brando could fully appreciate this change, a sense emerged in his heart:

"Young man, do you wish to inherit my path—?"

Huh?

Brando's brow twitched. He immediately realized what it was. A job advancement certificate! It was a job advancement certificate! Job advancement certificates weren't rare in the game, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Brando hadn't expected that the job advancement certificate provided by the Templar knight Gerrard would be for a mercenary, not a church knight, or even a knight. What was going on?

"Discovered job advancement certificate for 'Mercenary'. Requires 2 experience points to level up to 1. Do you wish to advance?"

Of course, even if it wasn't a knight, a mercenary wasn't bad. It was at least much better than a militiaman, wasn't it?

"Advance—"

A line of small text lit up on his retina.

Mercenary [Charge (— Level)]

Charge. A surprise attack on enemies, ten times the burst speed, one-minute cooldown, cannot be activated in a weakened state. Brando could recite the skill's effects with his eyes closed; he was too familiar with it, as it was the starting innate skill for warrior-class professions.

Was this fate?

Brando clenched his fist. His gaze swept across the entire tomb. He had no interest in the belongings of the deceased. What he was looking for was the holy water used for exorcism in the tomb. This item was too precious; it could save a life at a critical moment. But finally, the young man's gaze froze, settling on a small ebony gargoyle.

It was a statue.

This was it!

Brando was startled. This was the Gargoyle Charm, the key to controlling a gargoyle. He immediately picked up the charm. If he could control a gargoyle, it would be an unexpected delight, perhaps even the biggest gain from this trip—

But it was at this very moment that the tomb began to shake violently, and dirt and sand rained down from the ceiling. Brando turned his head and happened to hear an explosion from somewhere far outside.

It was from the direction of the ranch!

He was startled.

Had Freya and Essen gotten into trouble? This was the only possibility Brando could think of. He hastily grabbed two bottles of the slightly less effective Holy Water No. 9, wrapped them in his bloodstained clothes, and then rushed back out of the tomb.

However, in his haste, he didn't notice that a piece of paper fluttered down from beneath the holy water he had casually knocked over.

As soon as Brando rushed out, he ran headfirst into the gargoyle. But this time, with the Gargoyle Charm in his hand, the monster dared not act rashly and could only stand obediently to the side, acting as a statue. Brando felt a bit regretful. This type of control charm required a password. Otherwise, he could take this gargoyle out with him right now—never mind that Green Village still had two wights; they wouldn't stand a chance against a level 23 gargoyle.

The reason was simple: mechanical gargoyles were completely immune to Rotting Art.

The young man ran out of the tomb in three quick strides, but before he could even catch his breath, a strong gust of wind suddenly attacked him from the darkness.

(PS. Thank you all for your support. We've finally made it to the homepage. This is the second update, and the third will be at 6 PM. Seeing how hard I'm working, can you support me even more enthusiastically?

Fate split before my eyes into two unrelated, straight lines. One led to palaces and cities burning fiercely in flames, kingdoms overthrown, the land bearing suffering, and living beings enduring torment in this fire, forever without light.

The other led to the pinnacle of ancient kings, where the gods themselves crowned me in the clouds. I placed the laurel wreath upon my head and bathed in the thunderous cheers. My gaze penetrated the mists of history, my knights expanded my territory, and my sword cleared the path, leading my people to victory.

I took this scepter and grasped the authority of the world in my hands. I looked down upon all living beings and changed the course of history.

I am Brando, King of Vonder. This is my legend.

Which of these two introductions do you prefer compared to the current one?)