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Chapter 49: Swordsmanship
Not bothering to conceal his presence, Brandon was spotted by the guards as he crossed the first-floor courtyard. After killing three men, the remaining members of the seven-man patrol scattered, spreading word of the intruder throughout the castle.
Usson Castle housed thirty-two guards, mostly mercenaries. Their leader was a seasoned mercenary captain from Jandel, skilled in combat and possessing both mid-tier iron-rank swordsman strength and tactical acumen.
Thus, when Brandon entered the second-floor banquet hall, he walked straight into an ambush involving eleven guards. The moment he pushed open the door, the brightly lit hall erupted with chaos. Archers stationed on the upper balcony unleashed a flurry of arrows, their deadly volleys converging on him almost instantly.
At such close range, the arrows arrived mere moments after the twang of bowstrings. Brandon barely managed to raise his arm to shield his face, chest, and lower abdomen. The faint blue glow of his protective gauntlets flared momentarily, deflecting the most precise shots—but several arrows still grazed past his arms and thighs.
Gritting his teeth, Brandon cursed inwardly. Though his 4-unit Constitution granted him automatic muscle reflexes that mitigated much of the impact, turning potentially grievous wounds into minor ones, the pain remained sharp and unrelenting.
Under normal circumstances, knowing there were archers lying in wait on the second-floor balcony, Brandon might have retreated immediately to find another route—perhaps seizing the spiral staircase at the opposite end of the castle. While it too would undoubtedly be guarded, its terrain wouldn’t be nearly as treacherous.
But now, things were different.
With a single upward slash of his sword, a transparent ripple surged forth, extending halfway across the hall. A deafening crash followed as candlesticks and tableware toppled along the wave’s path, chandeliers shattered above, and the balcony railing splintered, sending dismembered bodies tumbling down.
This was White Crow Swordsmanship, a secret technique of Eruin’s royal court—one of the few long-range skills available to warrior-class characters in the early-to-mid stages of the game. At level 0, the blade's wind could extend five or six meters, doubling the attack's width. By level 25, it could strike enemies hundreds of meters away, rivaling even those who had awakened elemental powers.
And yet, this devastating skill consumed only 3 stamina points—a negligible cost compared to the immense drain of awakening abilities. This was why intermediate skills like these were so highly coveted back then.
Brandon’s jaw-dropping display left the hall momentarily silent. It wasn’t until broken wood fell from the second floor with a soft thud that everyone snapped back to reality—
“Knight!”
“Temple Knight!”
“For Marsha’s sake! Captain Apno, let’s retreat!” The guards screamed in terror, abandoning all will to fight and scrambling backward.
The ability to project one’s sword energy was a fundamental skill for warriors who had awakened their elemental power. Traditionally, the Temple of Flames bestowed formal knighthood upon such individuals, distinguishing them as Temple Knights to set them apart from other nations’ knights.
Against a fully realized Power System wielder, ordinary fighters stood no chance unless they outnumbered the opponent enough to deplete their stamina—a feat far easier said than done.
“Knight my ass!” Captain Apno grabbed the nearest subordinate, cursing under his breath. That was unmistakably a royal swordsman—had they unwittingly been dragged into some palace intrigue? As a veteran mercenary leader, Apno prided himself on his broad knowledge. He even knew the noble upstairs was a certain “close advisor” to the king. Being caught up in political struggles wasn’t new to him, but encountering a legendary royal swordsman was.
That was top-tier royal swordsmanship, one of the core forces controlled by the royal family. For a mere lower-tier iron-rank swordsman to unleash such power left Apno feeling envious.
Still, duty called. Rising to his feet, he surveyed the scene. Most of the guards had fled; those remaining were frozen in fear rather than bravery.
Brandon’s single strike had claimed four lives.
Apno didn’t have time to grieve. Standing up, he signaled urgently: “Retreat! Retreat! Pull back the men from the spiral staircase! We can’t hold this floor—we’ll fall back to the next.”
Only then did the remaining guards snap out of their stupor, fleeing through various exits. Some abandoned their bows entirely, while others nearly stripped off their armor in panic.
Watching this unfold, Apno felt a pang of despair. “Damn nobles—they’re nothing but trouble,” he muttered before slapping the subordinate he’d grabbed earlier awake. “You! Get to the barracks inside the castle and sound the alarm. Understand?”
“The alarm? But the Duke said it’s meant to warn the entire city!”
“Bullshit! If our guest dies, we’re all dead! Got it?”
The guard nodded hastily.
…..
It must be said, this subordinate wasn’t entirely without wit. Fearing reinforcements, he avoided the inner spiral staircase and instead climbed down via a rope in the kitchen. Though it delayed him slightly, he believed himself safe.
He knew Apno was counting on the small detachment of White Mane Legion soldiers stationed in the castle’s barracks—a squad of seven, including a squad leader, tasked with supporting the castle guards. Despite mutual disdain in peacetime, both sides now yearned desperately to meet. Yet before the messenger reached them, he stumbled upon two deep-blue-uniformed sentries lying dead in the courtyard. Realizing the enemy had accomplices, he turned tail immediately.
But it was too late. A white flash shot out from the second-floor window of the barracks, piercing cleanly through the messenger’s chest. The force of the Magic Arrow propelled his corpse seven meters forward, slamming it against a pine tree.
Chael watched from the stone-framed window, confirming the man was dead and alone before withdrawing his gaze. Pulling out his pocket watch, he glanced at the rope hanging from the bell tower—it was five minutes until Brandon’s designated time.
…..
Unaware that his messenger had been killed, and that the White Mane Legion detachment he relied on had also been wiped out, Apno pinned his hopes on the remnants of his men holding out long enough for reinforcements to arrive.
They barricaded themselves at the stairway leading from the third floor to the second, with guest quarters behind them—their backs against the wall. While Apno once looked down on servants and laborers, envying their ability to hide in fear, he now found himself trapped in his role as captain.
If the Earl died under his protection, Apno would likely need to change his name and flee to the mountains to become a bandit.
Soon, the young swordsman appeared in his line of sight.
Brandon estimated the time—only a few minutes remained. Shaking the blood off his blade, he figured it should suffice. Still, he found it odd that the line of over a dozen guards seemed so fragile. He had anticipated a fierce battle.
He recognized that the guard captain was at least a mid-tier iron-rank swordsman—logically, the odds should favor them, shouldn’t they?
However, Brandon overlooked one crucial factor: the advantage of skills. Having grown accustomed to players, he assumed everyone gained innate abilities upon reaching certain levels. But here, most guards were former militiamen, trained in rudimentary swordplay or relying solely on battlefield experience. Like Apno, who hailed from military ranks and practiced Eruin’s military swordsmanship, they lacked specialized techniques.
Even if Brandon realized this, he wouldn’t show mercy. He understood what protecting the guest meant to these men—neither side had any choice but to fight.
The guards loosed another volley of arrows.
Brandon casually batted them aside with his gauntlet, though blocking Apno’s arrow alone would have sufficed—the others posed no real threat.
“First squad, charge!” Seeing the ineffectiveness of the arrows and the approaching foe, Apno steeled himself and ordered his men forward.
Seven guards, inwardly cursing Apno’s cowardice, reluctantly charged. Expecting death, they were stunned when a blur zipped past them. Turning instinctively, they saw the killer had already bypassed them and confronted their captain.
When Brandon vanished from view, Apno sensed danger. Having fought Sun Knights before, he recognized the kingdom’s signature Charge skill, which temporarily boosted speed. His scalp tingled as years of combat experience forced him to raise his sword defensively. Sparks flew as the two blades clashed.
“Not bad for a mid–tier iron-rank swordsman,” Brandon thought. This block came without warning—a hallmark of seasoned veterans. He recalled suffering greatly around level 20 due to NPCs honed through real combat.
But that was then; this was now.
Without hesitation, Brandon pressed the attack, unleashing another blow—this time using Strength Surge. Apno’s mind raced. Who was this devil? Royal swordsmanship, knightly techniques, berserker surges—was there no justice in the world?
Despite his vast experience, Apno couldn’t suppress a chill. Fortunately, his familiarity with combat saved him where others might have perished.
Planning to counterattack, Apno abandoned all thoughts upon seeing Brandon’s follow-up strike, opting instead for a purely defensive posture. As their swords collided, both bent to their limits, emitting an ear-piercing screech. While Brandon remained steady, Apno staggered back seven steps, nearly collapsing.
Logically, Apno’s mid–tier iron-rank swordsman strength (exceeding 9 units) should have overwhelmed Brandon. Yet the reverse occurred.
Such was the power of skills.
As Apno retreated, guards on either side finally snapped out of their daze and lunged for a surprise attack. But Brandon simply swung his sword backward, releasing a wind blade that decapitated several attackers.
Pressing forward, Apno, seeing no alternative, dropped his sword and shouted, “I surrender!”
His words were drowned out by the tolling of the alarm bell.
“Drop your weapons and scram!” Brandon barked.
Relieved, the guards obeyed, discarding their weapons and fleeing in panic. Already terrified and demoralized, they needed no further encouragement once their captain conceded defeat.
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