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Chapter 27: The Soul Gem
The massive Withered Beast raised its claw, nearly half the height of a man, and swiped down with terrifying force. Brandon ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. The gust of wind whipped up by the creature’s gnarled branches sliced through the air like a blade, striking a nearby slab of shale with a thunderous crack. The rock was sent flying thirty meters away, bouncing off other stones before finally lodging itself into a jagged pile, sending up a cloud of dust.
Brandon watched as the boulder ricocheted three times mid-air, his heart pounding. That kind of power was monstrous—any human caught in such an attack would be instantly pulverized. Their bones would shatter under the sheer force, piercing their organs, while internal bleeding would spread across their body like wildfire. In short, it was a death sentence.
The Elite Withered Beast’s strength—8.9 units—was nearing the peak for monsters within the level 20 range. From what Brandon could recall, only certain professions like Berserkers or Dwarven Iron Sentinels could match that raw power at this tier. But Brandon had no intention of engaging it head-on.
Instead, he signaled Freya to flank the beast from the side. Using his agility to his advantage, Brandon rolled forward and swung his Lustrous Stinger at the tangled mass of branches that made up the creature's left leg. The towering shrub-monster stood about five meters tall, with claws stretching over three meters long, giving it an immense reach. But when it tried to look down, it found it difficult to strike at Brandon beneath its own bulk.
Brandon’s sword struck true, igniting a bright flame of purification. Yet, much to his dismay, the attack left only a scorched mark on the monster's calf. Its defense was far greater than expected. While the Elite Withered Beast naturally possessed high toughness and resistance, this level of resilience suggested something more sinister—a power suppression mechanic. This was a feature from Amber Sword, a game mechanic Brandon hadn’t anticipated encountering here.
Still, the pain was enough to make the colossal Withered Beast throw back its head and unleash a deafening roar—a deep, buzzing sound that reverberated through the air. The shockwave caused nearby grass to quiver violently. Brandon felt his chest tighten, and Freya, farther away, coughed up blood.
The Intimidation Roar—its effects were far more potent than anything he’d experienced in the game. Was it because their levels were too low? Brandon grimaced as his internal organs seemed to shift out of place. His retina display flashed warnings: several of his organs had sustained varying degrees of damage.
“Brandon!” Miss Merchant’s voice called out from a distance.
Turning his head, Brandon saw Roma had already secured the rope and anchored the grappling hook. Relief washed over him. Roma was reliable when it mattered most—calm under pressure. She truly had the makings of a skilled merchant.
He glanced toward another direction. The Juvenile Withered Beasts were closing in fast. It was time to retreat—they had mere seconds.
“Freya,” he called out sharply.
“I’m fine… cough, cough.” The ponytailed girl wiped the blood from her lips, gripping her sword tightly once more, resuming a defensive stance.
“One last hit. Cover me so I can get out of its range.”
Freya nodded, gripping her sword with both hands. With a practiced growl, she charged from the flank, mimicking the training protocols. The giant shrub-monster, which had been preparing to stomp on Brandon, now had to contend with her instead. Its limited intelligence struggled to decide which threat was greater, but instinct told it Freya appeared more imposing.
In response, the beast unfurled its bristling branches, launching countless thorns at her with a sharp whoosh.
Freya, forewarned by Brandon, quickly shielded her head and vital areas. Though the barrage sent her flying backward into a rock, blood seeping from wounds all over her body, she gritted her teeth and felt a sense of relief in her heart. At least she’d bought Brandon some time.
With no moment to spare, Brandon leapt out of the creature’s range. Crouching low, he raised his right hand, the silver ring gleaming ominously as he aimed at the injured left leg of the Elite Withered Beast.
“Oss!”
The air compressed, and a burst of explosive wind slammed into the monster’s leg with a thunderous boom. Splinters flew everywhere as the limb—and part of its torso—exploded in a shower of broken wood and leaves. Even with its formidable defenses, the beast couldn’t withstand a fully charged 20oz strike. Losing its entire left side, the creature lost balance, toppling backward.
Brandon immediately activated his Charge skill, diving beneath the falling behemoth. He knew it wasn’t dead yet—the Elite Withered Beast had 42 health points, comparable to a Gargoyle. Raising his Lustrous Stinger, he plunged the blade into the creature’s neck with a series of soft cracks.
The Elite Withered Beast let out a final howl, attempting one last struggle. But Brandon twisted the sword, unleashing a radiant silver fire that erupted from the blade. The monstrous shrub finally bowed its head, its life fading. The purification flames, no longer suppressed by the creature’s vitality, surged violently, engulfing it in a roaring inferno.
Golden light streamed upward from the burning pyre, merging into Brandon’s body—
17 experience points.
Suddenly, he felt a chill in his palm. Instinctively opening his hand, he discovered a wisp of black smoke coalescing into a cold, obsidian crystal.
A Soul Gem!
Brandon was stunned. He hadn’t expected to find one here. Pure joy followed the initial surprise. Soul energy was among the purest forms of power in this world, coveted not only by Madara’s necromancers but also studied by wizards of other schools. In-game, Soul Gems could be converted into experience through rituals, powering magical equipment or activating special items.
Take, for example, the Ring of the Wind Sovereign.
This particular gem held at least 30 experience points—more than enough to recharge the ring with some leftover. How could Brandon not rejoice? Earlier, he’d feared prematurely using the ring meant hiding for three hours to recover. Without it, navigating this valley would’ve been suicidal. Now, however, there was hope.
But time was still wasted—three precious hours.
Yet fate had intervened.
As Brandon sheathed his sword, he glanced back. One of the Juvenile Withered Beasts had already climbed onto the platform. Both he and Freya were exhausted; another fight would be disastrous. A single foe might be manageable, but being surrounded would spell doom.
Meanwhile, Freya, battered and bruised, had briefly relaxed upon seeing Brandon slay the monstrous shrub. But her relief vanished when she spotted the thorn-covered creatures emerging on the opposite end of the rocky platform. Her brows furrowed as she struggled to stand, only to see Brandon sprinting toward her. Before she could protest, he scooped her up bridal-style and dashed toward Roma.
“Ah!”
“P-Put me down—”
The future Valkyrie, currently just a country girl from Buchi, flushed crimson. She squirmed, but Brandon ignored her protests, cradling her gently despite her embarrassment.
Reaching the cliff base, Roma had already ascended. The future Miss Merchant wasn’t timid—she was decisive—but Brandon knew she’d climb back down if they failed to join her. More Withered Beasts were scaling the ledge. He had mere seconds left.
Securing the rope around Freya and then himself, Brandon tightened his grip. He felt her tense in his arms but pushed forward regardless. Fortunately, his experience was sufficient for him to level up. By upgrading the mercenary to level 3, his strength would reach 2.5 units, which was enough for him to haul them both up with one arm..
It was a race against time. As they ascended, a Juvenile Withered Beast leapt, grabbing Brandon’s foot. Reacting swiftly, he drove his sword downward, knocking the creature back into the horde below.
Finally, all three reached the cliff’s summit, exhaling in unison. Below, the shrub-monsters attempted to climb the same rope. Without hesitation, Brandon severed it, sending them tumbling back. Spare ropes remained; only the grappling hook mattered.
Brandon knew the cliff stretched for kilometers. These Golden Magic Tree servants would need to circle around the valley to pursue them, buying him precious time. Collapsing onto the ground, he exhaled deeply.
“Well done!” He gave Roma a thumbs-up. Miss Merchant had performed admirably—what a find she was.
“Really? Auntie says that too: ‘Little Roma, you’re the best!’” Roma puffed out her chest proudly, though concern quickly returned to her face as she turned to Freya.
“She’ll be fine,” Brandon assured her. “Just surface wounds. We’ll clean and bandage them once we find a safe spot.”
Freya, still red-faced, remained silent.
Catching his breath, Brandon regarded the future Valkyrie with mixed frustration. He’d wondered how she survived the brutal wars—was it due to qualities like resilience and calmness? Past encounters painted her as composed, albeit naive. Perhaps her arrival here was circumstantial, but her stubborn refusal to relinquish that backpack irked him. Stubbornness forged strength, yes, but on the battlefield, it could prove fatal.
“Why did you come?” Despite his irritation, Brandon softened his tone, unwilling to hurt her feelings.
Freya hesitated, removing a ring from her finger. “It’s the Guard Unit Commander’s signet. You’re heading to Ridenburg. Uncle Marden asked me to deliver it.”
Brandon smacked his forehead. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten—it was that he doubted Ridenburg’s nobles would take him seriously. Freya, inexperienced, didn’t understand, but veterans like Marden surely did. Ridenburg’s neglect of Buchi’s defenses had led to this disaster. His trip was largely motivated by Roma’s aunt, yet Marden had been moved enough to send the signet. He should’ve refused outright.
The ring held significant value for refugees.
“Did you volunteer?” Brandon asked, suspecting Marden wouldn’t willingly send Freya to die.
Freya adjusted her ponytail, nodding. “I’m the captain of the Third Squad. How could I stay behind?”
“What’s in the backpack?” Brandon pressed.
The future Valkyrie hesitated, clutching it protectively, unsure how to respond.
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