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Chapter 28: The Haven
"The Half-Body Armor of the Wind Sovereign!?"
Brandon opened the heavy backpack and glanced inside, only to see the complete set of copper-colored armor resting neatly within. He couldn't help but rub his forehead in exasperation. No wonder—no wonder that adult Withered Beast had only been able to restrain Freya earlier; it was all because of this protective relic.
"Why didn’t you put it on?" Brandon asked.
"The armor emits light, and I was afraid Madara’s undead might spot me. I planned to wait until daylight when the brightness would mask it..."
"Light?"
"The faint green glow surrounding the plates," Freya clarified.
"That’s not light—it’s the Feather of Wind." Brandon sighed deeply as Freya stared at him blankly. These were basic facts in the game, yet somehow she seemed utterly clueless. Picking up the armor, he began explaining.
The Half-Body Armor of the Wind Sovereign was crafted by Saint Orlso, a master artisan, much like his other famed creation, the Ring of the Wind Sovereign. Both bore the mark of the Sovereign of Wind, though different types of such artifacts existed. For instance, the ring was a token of Delutte, its sacred insignia bearing the emblem of Saint Orlso's kingdom. However, the piece Brandon held now was nothing more than a counterfeit—a crude imitation likely made by some human wizard with little skill.
Still, even a poorly-made magical item weighing 20 oz wasn’t something Brandon’s grandfather should have possessed. This mystery remained unsolved for now, as Brandon's fragmented memories offered no answers. From a gamer’s perspective, this could be part of a hidden questline—but he’d need to find the lame merchant from Black Pepper Alley before uncovering any clues.
On the other hand, authentic pieces of the Sovereign of Wind created by the elves were far superior. The Half-Body Armor of the Wind Sovereign had once belonged exclusively to the elven guard, ensuring its purity of lineage. But ever since the Year of the Glorious Return, hundreds of sets had leaked into foreign lands annually, diminishing their rarity.
In gaming terms, Brandon thought, this particular armor would rank around 15 oz of strength enhancement.
As for the "Feather of Wind," it was an enchantment imbued onto the armor itself—a spell designed to reduce the force passing through it, effectively mitigating damage. As was typical of elven magic, this spell reacted especially strongly against plant-based creatures, which explained why the Withered Beast had been so severely hindered.
What Freya didn’t know, however, was that in-game terminology referred to this effect as a beneficial status buff. Its glow was visible only briefly during activation.
Listening to Brandon’s explanation, Freya felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. How humiliating—to appear so ignorant, like some naive country girl who’d never seen the world beyond her village. She lowered her head further, muttering softly, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner...”
Brandon internally rolled his eyes. How could he have known? To him, these details were common knowledge, though he realized belatedly that assuming others shared his understanding might lead to misunderstandings. After all, having immersed himself in Amber Sword for so long, it was natural that he struggled to switch out of his player mindset.
Seeing Freya’s crimson face and the way she clutched the backpack tightly, Brandon understood without asking why she’d refused to abandon it earlier. Even Valkyries-to-be harbored youthful sentiments, it seemed. He chose not to point this out directly, but the warmth of being trusted stirred something pleasant in his chest.
His heart softened, and the reprimand he’d intended died on his lips.
“Things are lifeless; people aren’t. No matter how valuable something is, your safety comes first next time, alright?” he said gently.
“I’m sorry.”
“And what about the third squad?”
“I left Phineas in charge.”
“Phineas?” Brandon echoed, surprised.
“Yes,” Freya nodded. “Uncle Marden once told me that boy might be Buchi’s best hope of making it out into the wider world. I always looked after him, hoping one day he’d bring pride to our village. But maybe you’re right—how can a man grow without trials?”
“You’ve come to terms with it, then? Does Ethan agree?” Brandon sighed. Freya had finally stepped out of her sheltered worldview. He’d assumed she clung stubbornly to her innocence, but seeing the steadiness and clarity in her gaze now, he realized she’d matured.
“Ethan shares my thoughts.”
Brandon nodded. With internal team issues resolved, he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a major problem, despite Freya’s stubbornness and pride. In critical moments, she proved herself reliable. Her refusal to abandon the backpack, while frustrating, also touched him—it spoke volumes about the weight of their friendship.
Glancing back, he noticed Roma gazing curiously at their refuge across the campfire, her eyes sparkling as if appraising a rare treasure.
Miss Merchant never seemed troubled by their surroundings.
“Brandon, how did you know about this place? Those terrifying monsters outside shouldn’t be able to find us here, right?” she asked.
Freya nodded. “But we can’t stay hidden forever. We’ll move out once it gets a bit brighter.”
Brandon agreed. They were both correct. Xavier Mountain Pass concealed several such secret terrains along its cliffsides—paths carved over centuries by countless nightingales and hunters who paid dearly with their lives. These routes allowed travelers to bypass most of the Golden Magic Tree’s minions and approach the boss’s lair more safely.
However, two challenges lay ahead. First, reaching the core area where the Golden Magic Tree rooted—the so-called ‘Forbidden Orchard’—required navigating several cliffside gaps using grappling hooks. Moreover, the tree wasn’t defenseless; patrols of treants roamed the cliffs. Still, Brandon had plans to deal with them.
The second challenge involved slipping away via a hidden passage behind the Forbidden Orchard, which required Griffintor’s crystal key. Unfortunately, the key hung from the branches of the Golden Magic Tree itself. In the past, players simply defeated the boss and claimed the prize, but this time, Brandon needed another approach.
He’d already outlined the steps in his mind, leaving room for improvisation. After all, perfection was impossible, and even in games, plans were often rough sketches rather than intricately woven schemes found only in novels.
At times like these, having a trump card mattered most—which was why Brandon valued the Ring of the Wind Sovereign so highly.
Lost in thought, he pulled out the Soul Gem, examining it under the firelight. The dark gem resembled obsidian, but wizards could distinguish between the two by channeling energy into them. Even ordinary folk familiar enough with magic could discern the difference.
Brandon knew a simpler test. Holding the gem near the flames, he watched as vaporization signs appeared on its surface, confirming it as a genuine Soul Gem.
Unprotected soul energy was notoriously unstable near open flames, explaining why Madara’s lesser undead feared fire so intensely.
“What’s that?” Miss Merchant inquired curiously.
Brandon placed the gem atop the Ring of the Wind Sovereign. It dimmed slightly before becoming translucent. After a moment’s consideration, he infused it with 10 oz of power—enough for his purposes. More would be wasteful.
Yet, his thoughts drifted to the ebony Gargoyle statue he carried. The Soul Gem’s energy would serve as an ideal medium for repairing the amulet. Hesitating briefly, he decided against it. The Gargoyle amulet responded to over three hundred possible control spells, and last night’s experiments yielded no success. Besides, the remaining 20 experience points were negligible compared to the 100 needed for full restoration.
What else could he use the gem for? Should he save it for later? For Brandon, spent experience meant progress. Power was still lacking, and survival demanded growth.
Use it on himself? Or convert it into skill points? Neither option appealed. Self-use wouldn’t elevate him to the next level, and converting it at a ten-to-one ratio felt inefficient. Besides, his mercenary profession lacked skills worth investing in.
Should he boost his militia rank instead? Perhaps—but only when he had surplus experience.
Caught in indecision, Brandon glanced outside. Dawn approached rapidly, painting the sky in muted hues. They’d depart soon. The Golden Magic Tree’s servants were blind, relying solely on instinctual phototaxis and sensitivity to sound and magical fluctuations. Thus, traveling during the day or night made little difference—except that humans found daytime travel easier.
At least they wouldn’t need torches, whose light attracted Withered Beasts too easily.
His hand wandered into his pocket, searching for anything useful. Soon, his fingers brushed against something card-like. Intrigued, he retrieved it. Though unfamiliar with the object, experimentation came naturally.
Identifying items ideally required extensive resources and alchemical tools—or consultation with NPCs. Yet, Amber Sword allowed usage of unidentified items provided one understood their function. Many players developed personal methods for testing gear, and Brandon was no exception.
He tried several common incantations, but none elicited a response. Pausing, he instinctively touched the Soul Gem to the stiff card, curious if it would react. Magical items typically resonated with soul energy, sometimes revealing latent properties or recharge capabilities.
To Brandon’s shock, the instant the two objects connected, the card erupted in blinding black light. Simultaneously, the Soul Gem lost its color, transforming into a transparent crystalline prism.
Absorption reaction!
Brandon nearly leapt in alarm, staring speechlessly at the now-empty crystal. A depleted Soul Gem became a container, highly prized by wizards and elementalists for crafting spell storage devices akin to scrolls.
But Brandon’s concern wasn’t monetary. An absorption reaction generated one of the strongest detectable magical signatures. If the Golden Magic Tree sensed this ripple—even miles away—it could track them instantly. Worse still, who knew what other lurking threats might take notice?
What baffled him most was how such a low-tier magical item triggered an absorption reaction—a phenomenon reserved for artifacts exceeding 40 oz of power.
Ignoring Roma and Freya’s astonished stares—they’d undoubtedly witnessed the burst of dark radiance—Brandon acted decisively. Rising to his feet, he declared, “We leave immediately!”
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