The Opponents

As Bresen transported the food and medicine they had found back to the foothold in Beledor Forest held by the old soldier Maden whom Brando knew—or rather, Maden, the current Captain of the Guard of Buchi—the return of the young people from the Third Militia Squad caused a sensation throughout the valley.

Macmi, Aike, Essen, Betha, Little Finis, and the Nibeto brothers—each of them was the eldest son or Daughter of some family in the village. Their relatives had believed they had perished in the battle that night and had even prepared themselves to accept that reality—yet now they had returned alive and unharmed.

The refugees erupted in excitement, though not all of them were residents of Buchi. Some might have come from Green Village or Webin, but the jubilant mood still affected everyone. After all, this was the first piece of good news they had received in two days.

A good omen might foretell smooth days ahead. Besides, there was the food and medicine that had come with them. The hungry and freezing people could finally have a warm meal, while the injured could receive care. Everyone felt that hope no longer seemed so far away, and even forgot some of the hardship and misery of that afternoon.

People always yearned for a better life. Even if it was only a little better than what they had now, they would feel content. Some said that humanity was insatiably greedy. They were indeed greedy, but they were also the easiest to satisfy.

Maden ordered bonfires lit. This veteran of the November War was courageous and stubborn by nature, and he would never bow to a few Bone Frames from Madara. He did not care in the slightest if Cabes and Rosko discovered them. In his words, they could come at them if they dared—Eluin had no cowards—

So many people without military training could never stay hidden anyway. They might as well be open about it.

Meanwhile, Freya, who had suddenly become all alone, was treated like a hero. At first, Brando worried that the scene would stir up painful memories for her, but he soon realized that concern was unnecessary:

"Freya, it was all thanks to you!"

"Freya, don't be sad. You still have us. Everyone in the village will support you. You're a strong, good girl—everyone knows that!"

"Freya, are you hurt? Come, let Aunt Akasha have a look. How could you be so careless?" A plump middle-aged woman pushed through the crowd. Though she had the rough hands, feet, and booming voice typical of country folk, she could not hide the concern on her face.

She parted the bangs from Freya's forehead, wiped her cheek, then stepped back to inspect the girl carefully.

"Aunt Akasha, I'm fine now."

"Really? Don't keep anything bottled up inside."

"Really. Thank you, everyone." Freya looked at the people gathered around her, and a mist rose unbidden to cloud her vision. These people had not had an easy time over the last two days. Every one of them had been living in fear, their Eyes bloodshot. Yet here and now, what they showed was the most sincere affection between people.

Brando sat far away, watching the scene, and could not help feeling an inexplicable warmth in his heart.

The warm bonfires, the bonds between people, the fragrance of food drifting through the air—at this moment, they seemed to drive away the darkness and chill of the mountains. Even if it was only for a moment, it still made one sigh:

What a wonderful scene.

Relationships between people should have been this simple.

Brando leaned against a jagged white rock and looked up at the stars: one after another, unchanged since time immemorial, like diamonds Shone on a dark purple curtain.

"Why aren't you going over there?" He saw Romane sitting higher up, hugging her bag against the knees of her leather skirt, her round-toed leather shoes swinging back and forth in the air.

"They don't like me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Auntie and I are both weirdos in their Eyes. Besides, what ordinary family's girl would want to become a merchant? So it's only natural that people don't like me."

So you know that too. Brando thought. But then he realized he had little impression of Romane's aunt. That woman was always traveling—here today, somewhere else tomorrow. Only occasionally would she return, bringing Romane strange little trinkets that delighted her.

Perhaps it was precisely because she had grown up independently that the future Merchant's Daughter had developed such a distinctive personality.

"Can you tell me about your parents? You don't seem to have ever mentioned them."

"I never met them. Ever since I could remember, Auntie has been by my side. Auntie always said, 'Little Romanee, when you grow up, you must repay Auntie properly!'"

The Merchant's Daughter giggled. Under the moonlight, her Eyes were bright and clear.

Brando froze, then fell silent after hearing that.

"So that's why you want to become a merchant?"

"Mm."

"That's a strange idea."

"It's okay—"

The two chatted for a while longer before Brando saw Freya break away from the crowd and walk over. Before everyone else, the girl seemed innocent, simple, and approachable. But once she returned to her role as captain of Buchi's Third Militia Squad, there was a faint sense of the responsibility of a future Valkyrie about her.

She had promised to take Brando to see Captain Maden of the Buchi Guard, though she did not know what this young man intended to do. But just like Essen, she had a blind faith in him, believing that if it was this young man, he would surely find a way to lead them all out of this predicament.

Freya did not want to rely on anyone. She was simply curious.

Brando's plan, on the other hand, was this: by chance, he had now joined up with the Buchi Guard and these refugees. And since he knew what kind of defeat Captain Maden would face next, then standing at this turning point in history, he naturally had to do something.

Indeed, Brando's first thought had been to protect himself. But a person could not live alone in this world. If he did that, how could he face Romane? How could he face Macmi and Little Finis? How could he face Freya?

Besides, the helpless tears of that future Valkyrie had deeply moved him. One only lived once—why worry about so much? Besides, he had lived two lives. All he wanted was to have no regrets.

Once he understood that, the road before Brando seemed to widen.

Romane naturally refused to leave his side. The three crossed the valley, passed scattered bonfires and groups of people, and finally found the old man beside a campfire at the end of the stream valley. By coincidence—or perhaps as expected—Bresen was there as well. But Brando did not care about that fellow. Instead, his gaze immediately fell upon the veteran of the November War.

Maden. By the game's timeline, Brando suddenly remembered that he had not seen this old man for nearly thirty years—at a time ratio of eight to one.

In the game, Maden's later years had been extremely unhappy, though he still died of old age. His only stroke of luck was that he did not live to witness Eluin's fall, and that he gained the friendship of many players. This NPC held an extremely high reputation among players—because he taught several skills, including Stealth, Scout, and swordsmanship. More importantly, he also taught a warrior's first advanced skill: Courageous War Cry.

The old man was not much different from Brando's memory. He even looked less aged, though the resolve on his face was stronger. Brando had spent some time with this veteran and knew his temperament well. He understood that Maden was an exceptionally steadfast and fearless soldier with a fiery temper. Any roundabout approach would be useless with him; Brando might as well state his intentions plainly and perhaps earn some goodwill.

Still, he felt somewhat uneasy when he opened his mouth. Who knew whether the personalities of people in this world would truly be exactly the same as in the game? He thought they should be, yet the more he considered it, the more unbelievable it seemed.

After hearing his account, Maden's eyebrows twitched—as expected, drawing together in a frown. But, also as expected, the first objection came from the young deputy captain of the guard.

Bresen.

"You mean we'll fail. What's your reason?"

Brando's gaze remained on Maden as the old man said, "Young man, I'm grateful that you wish to join us and do your part for the kingdom. But it seems you don't hold much hope for the battle ahead. I'd like to hear why as well—"

Brando remained calm. What he feared most was that this hot-tempered old man would not give him a chance to speak. As long as he could get a word in, with his knowledge of how history had unfolded, he was confident he could persuade them. "Actually, I only have one question. Do you know how many Madara undead troops are blocking your way ahead?"

The several young members of the Guard Detachment present all fell silent.

Maden said nothing as well, but Bresen, having caught his look, replied, "Judging from the battle this afternoon, the ones that first latched onto us should have been the same Undead Army. Another one joined later. I paid attention to some of their banners; there should be at least two distinct command formations. Unfortunately, I don't know Madara's exact military organization."

Our protagonist gave the man a surprised look. He had not expected this fellow to possess some genuine skill. Unlike Brando, who relied on experience from his previous life, Bresen had drawn these conclusions merely through observation amid a chaotic battlefield. That was no small feat.

But that still did not make Brando think any more highly of him, because unfortunately, Brando happened to be someone who knew far more than he did.

"It is not strange for you to reach the wrong conclusion when you do not understand a country like Madara," he said eloquently. "This is a nation that has never truly been unified. Around the time before the Age of Runes and Swords, a group of exiled dark wizards came here and became this region's first lords. For quite a long time afterward, this place was a paradise for bandits and wandering undead..."

"What are you saying all this for?"

"Let him speak, Bresen. Don't be impatient."

"Hmph."

Brando smiled faintly. He knew he had caught Maden's attention. A veteran was still a veteran—no matter how bad his temper, he could always keenly grasp certain crucial pieces of information.

"But it is also an extremely aggressive nation. The lords who live in darkness constantly wage war against one another, while also raiding outward to the north, south, and every other direction whenever they please. Eluin, Cruz, Osore, and even the Banlin region have all suffered greatly because of them."

"Years of warfare have given those dark lords battle-hardened troops after troops. Their organization may be extraordinarily chaotic, but their combat strength cannot be ignored. Therefore, even if you saw two units with different designations, their sizes might have differed enormously."

"So, could you describe some of the details of what happened during your battle? Perhaps I can offer some help in terms of intelligence."

"Brando!" Bresen finally could not hold back any longer. He rose to his feet and shouted angrily, "You're lying! How could you possibly know anything about Madara? As far as I know, you used to—"

He had intended to say more, but the young man stopped him with a stern glance. Bresen froze. He could scarcely believe that a single look from the other party had left him too shaken to speak.

The Brando of the past had not been so forceful. He had merely been a young brat with a bit of talent.

"Listen carefully, Bresen. I did not come here to argue with you either," Brando replied, enunciating every word. "I do not expect you to understand what a critical moment this is, but I only want you to know this—please take responsibility for your actions!"

Bresen was rendered speechless, then flew into a rage.

"Tell him what we encountered, Bresen," Maden said. The old veteran's brows had already drawn into a deep frown.

Note

Act Eighteen, S'taz is Elvish.

(PS. I've been feeling especially good about the last few chapters. I wonder whether everyone feels the same way?

Also, thank you to all my readers for your favorites, clicks, recommendations, rewards, and support. I'm deeply grateful!)