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Chapter 109: Unexpected Gains
Roma was not always the picture of demure grace. Kneeling before Brandon, her head bowed low and her expression one of practiced obedience, she managed to appear every bit the docile lady-in-waiting—save for the occasional flicker of mischief in her eyes as they darted up to gauge his reaction. Still, the illusion of refinement was marred by her disheveled state: streaks of dirt smeared across her face, her clothes torn and frayed from exertion.
Beside her knelt Antietta, a true noblewoman, clutching the tattered remains of her once-elegant shawl. Dust clung to her cheeks, and she kept her gaze fixed on the ground, silent and visibly tense.
"Brandon, I..." Roma began, sensing a slight softening in the young knight’s stern demeanor. But before she could finish, his glare cut her off like a blade through silk. She wilted under it, lowering her head once more with a sullen pout.
In her mind, the plan had been flawless—or nearly so. If only that small mishap hadn’t occurred, she would have been a tremendous help to Brandon. And even with the hiccup, hadn’t they crushed several lizardfolk? Hadn’t they sealed off their escape route? Surely those achievements counted for something.
Next time, she resolved, she’d use less explosive force. Though if Brandon knew she was already plotting another attempt, he might well throttle her where she sat. He and Minnis had surveyed the site themselves. Antietta’s original design had been sound—a calculated collapse of the cliffside meant to obliterate most of the fleeing lizardfolk. The flaw lay not in the plan itself but in its execution—or rather, in the partner Roma had chosen (or perhaps imposed upon) to carry it out. Antietta’s meticulous calculations remained theoretical until Roma stumbled upon them, turning ink and parchment into chaotic reality.
But hindsight, as Brandon bitterly reflected, was a luxury no battlefield afforded. And Roma, bless her reckless heart, seemed incapable of caution. Her philosophy was one of action over deliberation, a trait both infuriating and oddly admirable.
His thoughts drifted to Antietta, who flinched noticeably as his gaze settled on her. "Forgive me, Sir Brandon," she murmured, shrinking back. "It is all my fault..."
"No," Brandon replied, shaking his head. "This isn’t your doing."
He knew the truth: had Roma not altered the quantity of explosives at the last moment, everything might have gone according to plan. Instead, chaos erupted. Few lizardfolk were caught in the landslide, while Roma and Antietta narrowly avoided being buried alive. It was sheer luck—and Antietta’s quick thinking—that saved them from disaster.
At the memory, Brandon shot Roma another scathing look. His anger wasn’t about whether or not she’d helped him; it was about her penchant for throwing herself into danger without a second thought. Yet despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but sigh.
This girl from Buchi possessed an uncanny ability to see through certain matters, almost instinctively. But when it came to common sense, she could be maddeningly oblivious. Rubbing his temples, Brandon finally spoke. "Have you always made plans like this?"
Antietta blinked, startled. She had braced herself for retribution, fully expecting Brandon to vent his ire upon her. After all, everyone knew how fond he was of Roma. The mere thought of causing harm to her—however indirectly—left Antietta trembling with apprehension. Despite enduring hardships in the past, she found comfort in the life Brandon offered her now: respect, equality, and purpose. Even the physical toll of daily marches felt bearable compared to the emptiness of her former existence.
"I’m sorry..." she whispered, shame coloring her voice.
"No," Brandon interjected, glancing at Roma to ensure she was listening. "I mean those plans."
Antietta hesitated, unsure what he sought. Eventually, she nodded. Since joining Brandon’s company, she had crafted detailed strategies for each mission, initially proud of her work. Over time, however, reality exposed the flaws in her designs. Compared to Brandon’s seemingly prophetic decisions, her efforts felt amateurish, childish even. Her ambition to become his trusted advisor waned, replaced by self-doubt. Now, planning was less about proving herself and more about introspection—a way to measure her growth and shed impractical notions.
She never imagined Roma would stumble upon her boldest idea yet, mistaking it for something far simpler. Thinking back, it almost felt like Marsha herself was playing a cruel joke.
"Why didn’t you show them to me?" Brandon asked.
"I... "
Brandon paused, understanding dawning. "Lady Antietta," he said gently, "you recommended yourself as my strategist. Wasn’t offering counsel part of the role you envisioned?"
"I know," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But at the time, I didn’t realize how naive I was. I promise to improve..."
Before she could continue, Roma interrupted, ever eager to defend herself. "Brandon, it’s my fault, really! Don’t blame Antietta—"
If Tiger Finch and Minnis had been present, Brandon doubted he could have maintained any semblance of authority. Taking a deep breath, he ignored Roma and pressed on. "Lady Antietta, everyone starts out naive. What sets you apart is your intellect. To abandon this opportunity because of inexperience would dishonor Marsha’s favor."
Antietta looked up, confusion written across her features.
"One person’s perspective is limited," Brandon explained. "Tiger Finch is invaluable, yes, but there are areas where you surpass him." He tapped his temple meaningfully. "I hope you won’t distance yourself from this circle. I want your help, and I’m certain you can provide it—so, will you?"
Though Brandon’s words were partly meant to reassure Antietta, they also stemmed from necessity. His foresight, though powerful, was temporary. Without the involvement of players, the course of history was bound to shift in unforeseen ways in just a few years. By that time, though his experience and knowledge from the game would still hold some value, his ability to foresee future events would likely diminish significantly. In fact, the entire process of this dungeon unfolding into its perfect storyline had already served as a wake-up call for Brandon. He was beginning to realize that he needed assistance. In the past games, he had never been an elite warrior or a top-tier guild leader. While the former could be remedied with practice and experience, the latter required a different approach altogether.
He had the future Valkyrie, but that wasn’t enough. Antietta’s sharp ability to discern the bigger picture from small details was something he couldn’t match. As he looked at the young noblewoman, he believed she possessed the potential for such skills. While she might not reach the level of a "divine prophet," her talents would more than suffice as an advisor.
Antietta froze, deeply moved by his trust. For someone as proud as she, such faith was a gift beyond measure. Though she suspected Brandon merely sought to comfort her, she nodded resolutely. Yes, she would help him—not out of obligation, but because she believed in his vision.
Unaware of the impact his words had made, Brandon turned to Roma. "Do you still have those disintegration crystals?"
"Sir Brandon, you know disintegration crystals?" Antietta gasped, surprised he knew of them.
"Well, sort of," Brandon hedged, wondering if these artifacts were indeed her invention. "The tower wizards have similar tools. I was just curious."
"How coincidental," Antietta murmured. "I named them Disintegration Crystals too. They’re crafted from the wasted core of magic energy conduits. When activated, they destabilize elemental frameworks, triggering rapid activation and explosion."
So it was her creation. Brandon regarded her with newfound respect. Though outdated by the later stages of the Second Black Rose War, these crystals had once revolutionized warfare, earning comparisons to dynamite among players. Their instability made storage and transport perilous, limiting their utility in prolonged conflicts.
"Do you have more?" he asked.
"I still have some," Antietta replied. "But if you need them, I can craft more overnight."
"Overnight?" Brandon echoed, incredulous. In the past, crafting such items typically took weeks in the game.
Seeing Antietta nodded, Brandon almost thought history had been altered—perhaps this young lady had invented something entirely different. Disintegration crystals that could be manufactured in just a few hours? Calling it an "unfair advantage" would be an understatement. Just as he was about to ask her, his attention was drawn to the woods below, where Tiger Finch was urgently waving him over.
What was he doing here again? Weren’t they supposed to be clearing the battlefield with Red-Handed Softie? Brandon paused momentarily, but seeing the mercenary captain’s impatient demeanor, he quickly turned back to Antietta. “If possible, I’d like everyone to have one or two of these. By the way, this device is highly unstable, correct?”
Antietta looked at him in surprise, then nodded. She was growing somewhat numb to the young knight’s seemingly prophetic knowledge.
So it hasn’t changed, Brandon thought with relief. “Later, I’ll teach you a method to temporarily stabilize it, though the effect will be limited. You can work on improving it further yourself.”
“Ah?” Antietta couldn’t help but gasp softly.
How did he know about this too?
Her fragile confidence, which she had just begun to rebuild, shattered once more. She had assumed she still held some advantage in the field of magic engineering, but it seemed Brandon knew even more than she did. However, what Antietta didn’t realize was that she was grievously misjudging him this time. Brandon, in truth, knew nothing about magic engineering—it was a skill reserved for pure support-class players in the game, something a combat-focused player like him could never access.
But ignorance didn’t stop Brandon from knowing certain materials and formulas.
While Antietta was still reeling, Roma finally noticed that the one person who could keep her in line had left. Letting out a long sigh of relief, she turned to Antietta with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Antietta.”
Antietta glanced at her and quickly shook her head, thinking to herself that she’d be grateful if Roma simply stopped causing trouble. To be honest, she was thoroughly intimidated by this young woman now.
But Roma, ever persistent, wasn’t about to let the only person willing to talk to her slip away. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “By the way, Antietta, did you see that?”
“That?”
“Yes, when we were buried. It seemed like there were glowing points of light, like fireflies, flying toward us from the slope below. Did you notice them?”
“Uh…”
“Did you?”
“I think so… maybe…”
…
When Brandon finally approached Tiger Finch, the seasoned mercenary captain was holding a thick, black-covered book in his hands. Brandon blinked in surprise—it was unmistakably the relic of a Dark Priest, its identity betrayed by the three jagged lightning-like scratches on the cover. What astonished Brandon most, however, was something else entirely.
Red-Handed Softie really lives up to her reputation. How had she managed to loot gear from a Dark Priest, widely known as a “pauper” NPC? Back in the day, such a feat would have been flaunted on forums as a testament to one’s luck. But alas, there were no forums here, leaving Brandon feeling oddly out of place.
And besides, it wasn’t as if he had looted the body himself.
“What is this?” he asked.
Tiger Finch gave him a mysterious look, saying nothing. Instead, he slowly opened the book in front of Brandon.
Brandon took one glance—and froze, utterly shocked.
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