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Chapter 51: Wealth
“Do you dare to kill me?” the middle-aged man asked, suppressing his fear.
“What is there to fear in killing you?” Brandon replied coldly.
“I am Earl Duane, a trusted minister of His Majesty. Do you intend to make an enemy of all of Eruin?” The man’s gaze was like that of a venomous snake, his cold eyes fixed on Brandon. “And it’s not just you—think carefully. Your companions will share the same fate.”
Brandon paused, silent for a moment.
Earl Duane, believing he had struck a nerve, pressed on: “Of course, there’s still room for negotiation. I can spare you and your companions, but for the sake of my honor, you must leave behind that elven blade.” His tone was half-serious, half-mocking, though a flicker of deep hatred passed through his eyes.
At this, Brandon let out a derisive snort. He looked at the Earl as if staring at a fool. “You think I was pondering something just now, Lord Duane?”
The middle-aged man blinked, startled.
“I was thinking how some creatures are so stupid and ignorant that they don’t even realize why they’re about to die,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “Killing a king’s trusted minister? Escaping from prison? In truth, no one will care about such trivial details. Because history will record this day as follows:
“‘In the Year of Blossoms and Summer Leaves, on the morning of June 2nd, Madara’s forces stormed Ridenburg. Earl Duane, Lord Ceberus, Sir Luc Besson of the White Mane Legion, and other pillars of the kingdom tragically perished in the flames of war, sacrificing their lives for the nation.’”
“As for me? I’m merely a passerby.”
Earl Duane’s eyes widened in shock, as though he were staring at a ghost.
“You think I’m lying? But I have no patience for jokes. Since you refuse to cooperate…” Brandon didn’t finish his sentence. With a swift motion, he swung his sword, severing the Earl’s head. Then, exhausted from the relentless battles, he collapsed onto the floor with a sigh. These fights had yielded no rewards whatsoever—a fact that grated against his very nature.
However, as his gaze shifted to the headless corpse of Earl Duane, Brandon froze. His eyes locked onto a ring adorning the man’s middle finger. It bore the pattern of an ‘O’-shaped serpent coiled into a circle. At first, Brandon was startled, then cursed under his breath. Damn it! This man was a member of the Ouroboros Society!
Instinctively, Brandon leapt toward the low table where the Lustrous Stinger lay—but it was too late. The surface of the ring writhed momentarily, and a chilling voice echoed through the room.
“Very good! Though I don’t know who you are, your days are numbered.”
The sharp voice came abruptly and vanished just as suddenly. Had Brandon not been familiar with the organization, he might have thought he was hallucinating.
But he knew better. The Ouroboros Society was cut from the same cloth as the Treeminders—only far more enigmatic. They had played pivotal roles in overthrowing Eruin and the northern Saint Orlso. No one knew their true purpose, but many high-level quests in the game were tied to them.
This vast organization remained a mystery both in the game and in this world. What Brandon did know was that they were far from benevolent. Moreover, senior members of the society were linked through rings called Ouroboros Rings. When one member fell, the others would immediately sense it and elect a successor to take their place.
And then? Relentless vengeance.
“Damn it! I’ve pissed off these bastards again. Lady Marsha, stop toying with me!” Brandon clenched the elven blade tightly, cursing loudly. He’d suffered endlessly because of this group in the game, all because he’d killed one of their high-ranking members.
History seemed to repeat itself here—and even sooner than before.
“My lord, is that you inside?” Chael called out as he approached, only to find the battle already over. He assumed Brandon had handled things effortlessly, as expected of his master. Still, he figured Brandon’s request for him to regroup was likely just a polite formality.
But Brandon, upon hearing Chael’s voice, felt a surge of irritation. If he hadn’t been vigilant, Chael might have walked in to find nothing but a corpse. Though he wasn’t sure whether the card would revert to its original form once its bearer died.
Without a second thought, Brandon picked up a stone and hurled it at Chael, startling the young apprentice into dodging.
“Whoa! My lord, let me explain—”
“No need. Don’t let it happen again.” After exhaling deeply, Brandon’s mood settled. He reminded himself that he still held one advantage: by dawn, Madara’s forces would reduce Ridenburg to ruins. Once the war ended, it would be nearly impossible for the Ouroboros Society to trace the murder of Earl Duane back to him. Though the organization wielded immense power, they weren’t omnipotent.
With that thought, Brandon felt slightly reassured. As long as they couldn’t find him, their vengeance would remain unfulfilled.
Only then did he fully relax. Turning to Chael, he asked, “How many mana potions are left?”
“None have been used, but I feel completely drained,” Chael admitted sheepishly, reluctant to part with the precious ‘gold of wizards.’
Brandon glanced at him. “We’re heading to the roof. Drink one on the way. Mana potions don’t take effect instantly. By the time the next battle begins, I want to see you fully restored and ready to fight.”
“What do you mean by ‘fully restored’?”
“In simple terms, a wizard without mana is as good as dead. When your mana is replenished, you’ll naturally be at full strength.”
“Though harsh, I suppose that’s accurate,” Chael nodded.
“Of course. Do I waste words with you?” Brandon thought to himself. Though not a wizard, he could still educate this apprentice for at least forty levels. Still, he found it odd how much Chael and Baba Sha valued mana potions. While they were indeed valuable, their reverence seemed excessive.
“My lord’s words are pearls of wisdom,” Chael said humbly, clearly impressed.
Brandon picked up the sword and approached Earl Duane’s body. He held the leaf-shaped elven blade close to the corpse—the spine of the sword glowed faintly, reflecting the bloodstains on the man’s clothes.
Frowning, Brandon recalled a past event, then nodded to himself.
“My lord, what are you doing?”
“I’m saving myself.”
“Saving yourself?”
“Enough questions. Follow me and tell me what you saw along the way.” Brandon knew he couldn’t let Chael grow complacent, lest he slip up again. Unbeknownst to him, his demeanor increasingly mirrored the commanding presence he once exuded as a guild leader in the game.
As they walked, Chael reported what he had observed earlier. When Brandon heard about the noble private armies gathering outside the castle, he felt both concern and relief. Escaping from such numbers would undoubtedly be difficult, but it also meant less pressure on Roma and Freya.
Truthfully, despite his encouraging words to them, he was deeply worried about the two girls.
Halfway through their journey, Brandon suddenly remembered something. “By the way, Chael, what about the task I assigned you?”
“What task?”
“A Highland Knight tasked his apprentice squire with collecting funds to sustain themselves. That kind of mission.”
Chael’s face lit up with excitement. “My lord, we struck gold!”
“With your vast knowledge, you must have heard of Ramona Darkglow,” Chael began enthusiastically. “She was the youngest princess of Saint Orlso, born in the Year of Frog Songs. But she’s more famous for her time as a court painter in Cruze during her travels as a scholar. Her works from that period gained renown across Vonder, hailed as ‘the voice of the soul.’ She was also a pioneer of the Mesora art style—a master of her craft. I never expected that Duke Goran-Elsun would be such a fervent admirer. His collection includes several masterpieces.”
“No, I haven’t heard of her. I only care about their value,” Brandon shook his head. In the game, players rarely bothered with such cultural artifacts, opting instead for gold and silverware. Thinking back, it was rather uncultured.
“How crude, my lord, how crude!” Chael shook his head disdainfully. “Still, a single painting like that could fetch millions of torr on the black market.”
“Barely acceptable.”
Seeing that his lord shared none of his artistic appreciation, Chael felt somewhat disheartened. Nevertheless, he rallied his spirits and pulled a booklet from his storage pouch. “My lord, I also happened to grab this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a collection of magical cards, mostly tarot-like divination tools. But there’s more to it,” the young wizard explained, opening the book and pulling out a card. “Take a look at this, my lord.”
When Brandon saw the card, he sensed something familiar. Upon closer inspection, he confirmed it was indeed a Fate Card.
It was a teal-colored wind elemental card. The top-left corner bore the symbol ‘x,’ while the illustration depicted an upright glowing equilateral triangle. Each vertex of the triangle contained a segment of a spell:
- ta’m: representing the target of the spell.
- stau: symbolizing the mana guiding the spell.
- ee: the eye of the god of magic.
The card’s cost was three teal-colored wind crystals.
Flipping the card over, Brandon instinctively scanned its text:
Energy Drain
(Tower x)
Wind Element 3
[Spell - Instant]
Target a spell, forcing it to choose a new target.
"Your magic, under my control—Tower Guardian, Audu."
Chael watched Brandon’s expression and chimed in at the right moment: “It’s a rare white spell card, my lord. It seems our luck hasn’t run out yet.”
“White spell card?” Brandon asked.
“A spell card with no prerequisites.”
“But doesn’t it have a cost?”
“No, my lord. Most spells and summons in Fate Cards require specific conditions beyond basic land cards. For instance, the Knight Deck locks onto the Heroic Path of knights and warriors, which is why you, my lord, can use it.”
“And white spell cards have no requirements?”
“Exactly, my lord.”
Brandon frowned, recalling the scene in Jared’s tomb. Was there a connection? In his past life within the game, he’d never heard of Fate Cards. This question had lingered in his mind for some time, but only now did he have the chance to reflect on it.
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