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Chapter 49: Fishing in Troubled Waters Part 1
The rows of gleaming bone constructs came to a halt, raising their iron bows in unison. The creaking and groaning of their metallic limbs echoed ominously through the hall. Below, the mercenaries and adventurers finally realized the gravity of the situation—but they were pinned down by the Soul Puppets that had scattered throughout the room, unable to break free.
Brandon’s first thought was for Roma. He scanned the upper levels but could no longer see her or Antietta. Panic gripped him briefly before he swung his sword with practiced precision—a silver arc slicing through three chairs and cleaving the Soul Puppet locked in combat with Barthom.
The undead staggered, giving the red-bearded mercenary the opening he needed. With a mighty swing of his greatsword, Barthom split the creature nearly in half.
A cascade of clattering followed as the Soul Puppet collapsed into fragments. Several silvery orbs rose from its remains and shot toward Brandon, vanishing into his body.
Meanwhile, the cripple, aided by Chael, forced another Soul Puppet back. Turning around, they heard Brandon shout, “Have you seen Roma?”
“We’re here!” Antietta called out, pulling Roma to her feet on the other side of the hall. The merchant girl waved enthusiastically, seemingly unfazed by the chaos around her.
“Get down!” Brandon yelled at them. Then, addressing Chael, he commanded, “Chael, the wall.”
The young apprentice mage nodded, raising his ruby ring. Lines of energy radiated outward in all directions as Chael poured every ounce of focus and mana into the spell. A barrier of rules extended fifty meters, encompassing Antietta and Roma on the far side.
Hundreds of glowing threads flickered briefly before vanishing, leaving behind an invisible wall of air.
At that moment, the skeletal archers completed their preparations. Their bowstrings vibrated in unison like a storm’s roar, launching volleys of arrows in sweeping black lines across the hall. The front row of guests fell en masse, while those behind them grunted and collapsed one after another.
But Chael’s intervention saved countless lives. Each arrow striking the air wall sparked a burst of white light. Dozens of flashes illuminated the barrier, merging into a rippling glow.
This display snapped the stunned crowd out of their shock. Among them were apprentice mages, lower-tier elementalists, and even one or two mid-tier wizards. Many had initially been confused, but now they understood the direness of the situation. Some stood up, twisting rings on their fingers or chanting incantations aloud.
White streaks of magic shot upward toward the auction house’s grand exit, accompanied by weak fireballs. Explosions rang out, sending splinters of bone, wood, and dust flying everywhere. Brandon watched as several skulls bounced past him, rolling down the aisles.
Smoke filled the hall. Brandon coughed twice, though the sound was lost amidst the cacophony. He shoved aside a panicked mercenary who stumbled into him and shouted upward:
“Chael, Roma, come down! To me!”
He worried his voice might not carry over the din, but soon Barthom emerged from the smoke, carrying the unconscious cripple under one arm. Behind him came Chael, then Antietta and little Roma. The latter looked disheveled, her face smudged with soot like a mischievous fox cub. When she noticed Brandon watching her, she stuck out her tongue sheepishly.
“I thought we’d be safe behind Chael’s wall,” she said apologetically, though her wide eyes betrayed excitement rather than fear. “Sorry, Brandon.”
Brandon swatted her forehead lightly. Glancing at Antietta, he replied, “Thank her later. Right now, follow me—we need to leave this place.”
Antietta coughed softly behind them, murmuring, “No need.” But she tilted her chin slightly, pride flickering in her gaze. As a member of the nobility, she carried traces of the ancient Eruin aristocracy’s haughtiness—though her family’s fortunes had long since waned.
What Antietta didn’t mention was the prominent lily emblem adorning the top corner of the Borg Nesson family crest. This symbol mirrored the royal lilies of Colcova, hinting at a distant connection to the monarchy centuries ago. Though fallen from grace, the bloodline still bore echoes of its former glory.
In fact, the inspiration for her magic energy conduit device came from a dusty blueprint hidden in her family’s basement. Without it, her modest magical talent might never have led her down this path.
Yet Antietta refused to succumb to despair. The more impoverished her household became, the more determined she grew to restore her ancestors’ legacy. Unlike her small-time noble father, she had always been fiercely ambitious.
Barthom interrupted her thoughts. The red-bearded mercenary asked cautiously, “Where do we go, Sir Brandon? We don’t know how many of these creatures are outside—or how they got in. The cripple said this underground market was supposed to be secure. Damn it—”
“We’ll take the back route,” Brandon answered, glancing at the smoke-shrouded surroundings. His mind was already made up. It seemed Madara’s primary targets were Braggs’ high-ranking nobles attending the auction—likely those in the upper balconies.
Still, something chilled him. Those three Soul Puppets earlier had clearly targeted him specifically. After much thought, Brandon suspected his leadership of the refugees might have drawn Madara’s attention somehow. But why would Enstallone invest such effort into gathering intelligence and planning this operation just because he killed one company captain?
It felt excessive—even obsessive.
Brandon hoped he was merely a secondary objective in this raid. Regardless, he couldn’t deny that his actions were beginning to shape the course of history—and the realization filled him with urgency. If he didn’t act decisively, his advantages would slip away entirely.
Chael agreed with Brandon’s plan but took it further. Having deeply analyzed their previous discussions about equipment, attributes, and experience, the young apprentice mage suggested using the confusion to seize some of the unclaimed auction items and funds—a veritable treasure trove waiting to be claimed.
Had Freya been present, she likely would have objected to Chael’s opportunism. Alas, the kind-hearted future Valkyrie was currently awaiting commendation at the Silver Wing Cavalry headquarters.
Instead, Antietta—now serving as Brandon’s second-in-command and strategist—embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Despite her noble upbringing, her practical nature aligned well with the notion. She quickly refined the plan, ensuring its feasibility.
As for little Roma and Barthom, neither raised objections. Roma thrived on adventure, regardless of legality, while Barthom, as Brandon’s retainer, followed without question. And the unconscious cripple? Even awake, he’d probably cheer the scheme. Rumors in Black Pepper Alley claimed there was nothing the man enjoyed more than a good bargain—except perhaps a great one.
Seeing his nominal subordinates prioritize profit amid such peril left Brandon unsure whether to admire or lament their priorities. Still, their mindset mirrored his own tendencies in Amber Sword. Back then, “Su Fei, who risked life for coin,” earned quite the reputation during the game’s early stages when desperation drove him to reckless lengths. Though that persona faded after joining the Church Knight Order, the adventurous streak remained ingrained in his blood.
Whether Su Fei or Brandon, both were gamblers at heart—and this trait rubbed off on Barthom, Roma, and Chael. Antietta, too, shared a similar pragmatism. Brandon glanced at her, noting the resemblance.
With their plan set, the group moved toward the auction platform. They soon discovered others harboring similar intentions—but few possessed their resources: two near-upper-tier iron-rank fighters and fifteen Wind Spirit Spiders paving the way. Thus, they became the first to breach Madara’s “assassins” and reach the platform below.
Brandon’s eyes immediately fell on the auctioneer and his assistant, sprawled lifelessly in pools of blood. Where the Ember should have rested lay only emptiness—the priceless artifact gone. Frowning, Brandon considered two possibilities: either the undead had taken it—or something else was at play.
He exchanged a glance with Chael, reading the same uncertainty in the apprentice’s expression.
To most sentient beings, the Ember was invaluable. Yet to the undead, it held little worth. Madara relied on soulfire and necrotic towers to expand its dominion; the Ember offered no strategic value. Such knowledge might elude ordinary folk but not a seasoned gamer like Brandon or a studious apprentice like Chael.
“Something isn’t right,” Brandon declared, raising his sword defensively.
Simultaneously, Chael positioned himself to guard their rear.
“What’s wrong?” Barthom asked.
Before anyone could answer, a colossal red figure plummeted from above, landing heavily on the platform with a thunderous crash. Its massive foot crushed the wooden stage, creating a gaping hole and sending clouds of dust billowing into the air.
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