Amber Sword

The surroundings abruptly plunged into darkness—

Immediately, the ladies' screams echoed through the area. Brand and the Limp Man didn't have time to look around, already drawing their longswords from under their cloaks. Batom and Char were only a moment slower; the mercenary with the red beard unclasped his broad giant sword from his back, and with one hand on the Limp Man's shoulder—not trusting that guy—and positioned himself and the young wizard apprentice to protect the ladies on either side.

The Limp Man let out a light snort, seemingly unbothered on the surface.

After the ladies' panic, the voices of men shouting angrily and questioning came from all around and above.

However, the first-floor hall remained relatively quiet because it was occupied mostly by experienced adventurers and mercenaries. Most of them had gone through numerous battles, staying calm enough to prevent further chaos from spreading.

"Brand, what's happening?" Miss Merchant's voice asked curiously in the darkness, with no trace of fear.

Antitina, sitting behind her, nervously clutched the skirt over her knees, her fingertips turning white. But she squinted her bright eyes, not showing the fear in her heart.

"Shush—" Brand said. He already saw some young nobles fumbling with matches or lighting gemstones on their staffs not far away.

But some lights flickered and went out again.

Basic light magic was not uncommon in the everyday life of people in Vorn; in some big cities, even the streetlights on both sides of the roads were made of enchanted light-element crystals.

The Limp Man had a ring that could emit light, but he was in no hurry to light it. Holding up a light source in the dark would only make one a conspicuous target.

But sometimes, things don't go as planned.

Just as Brand and the Limp Man were on alert for any dangers, the treasure sword in the young man's hand flashed. He hesitated momentarily, then watched the longsword in his hand emit a faint glow.

At first, the light was like a layer of phosphorescence on the sword blade, but in the next instant, it brightened suddenly, and the light from the raised sword illuminated the surroundings as white as snow—

By this brilliant light, Brand and the Limp Man didn't even have time to be astonished before spotting four cloaked intruders rapidly maneuvering through the narrow aisles between the rows of seats, charging straight toward them.

Their hands were concealed under their cloaks, clearly gripping weapons underneath.

Enemies, not friends.

"Brand!" Batom had already shouted from behind.

Brand said nothing, decisively raising his left hand. From the sleeve flew a series of crossbow arrows straight at the leading cloaked stranger.

The all-steel arrows, at such close range, carried immense force. The lead cloaked figure grunted and fell face-up, rolling backward. His companions sidestepped, then looked up at Brand.

Brand happened to see the orange-red flames burning deeply under their hoods.

"Undead..." He was taken aback. How did these damn things appear here, and at this time? But there was no time to ponder; the three cloaked strangers revealed their hands—shrivelled, armored hands tightly grasping strange single scythes.

Brand actually didn't know if those eerie weapons should be called scythes because they looked more like bright, semi-circular starfish, except the barbs and sharp edges indicated they were clearly not just decorative.

Curses had only a weak effect on undead, so the young man immediately abandoned the idea of wasting his curse crossbow arrows. He pulled Little Roman behind him while retreating between Batom and the Limp Man.

But the three cloaked strangers already pushed aside those in front, closing in. Their target was clearly Brand—three scythes swung toward him without hesitation.

Brand raised his sword to block one of the cloaked strangers' scythes with a resounding 'clang.' The enormous force in the sword's response nearly made him stagger back three or four steps, almost knocking over the seats behind him.

Little Roman screamed, but was already grabbed and dragged away by Antitina. The noble daughter wrapped Miss Merchant in her arms, lowered herself, and crawled in another direction.

She was extremely tense, but her mind was exceptionally clear, as if every move was instinctive.