Amber Sword

The sunlight was like a bright sharp sword, piercing through the mist. On the highlands, flowers carpeted the ground, and the river flowed brilliantly like silver. Yet, from the forest emerged rows upon rows of long spears cutting through the fog, and the highland infantry advanced in unison, clad in armor. Countless swallowtail banners and spear banners came into view one after another, each painted with the shield emblem of their leading knight, from lions to pelicans, thorns to garlands, none were repeated.

Finn Column, Constantine Column, Blei Formation, the Northern Alliance was assembling, long spears stood mightier than forests on the flower-bloomed plains, the snow-white spear tips slightly rising and falling with the breaths of the noble infantry, weaving a shining ribbon miles away.

From atop Angkel Mountain, looking into the distance, the south seemed to be a vast black ocean, flags floating above it, occasionally reflecting patches of weapons’ gleams. Brand pursed his lips; this was the true grand war. Only at this moment did he experience the illusion of returning to the past.

Everyone gripped the longswords in their hands, oblivious to their whitening knuckles; the noble private soldiers even forgot to breathe, gaping at the vast army beyond sight.

Behind the great army, several tails continued to merge. Tens of thousands, this term manifested its unprecedented oppression at this moment, tens of thousands breathing as one seemed to halt even the wind.

The gentle wind on Mar Highlands was calming.

The air turned sweltering and heavy, a sign of the impending storm. On the radiant green meadows, a knight was accelerating away from the Northern Alliance’s dark-cloud-like main formation, brandishing a long spear boastfully as he trotted along the northern front.

"Look there, that’s the prodigious knight of the Harbor People (1), the Count intends to name him a squad leader, I hear he’s replacing his father’s position."

"A squad leader at twenty?"

"Because he’s a genius. I heard the Viscount won several brilliant victories against the Donitokui Lion-men, miraculous victories. The veterans who fought alongside him call him ’Wanage’, you know? ’Wanage’ is a hero from mountain people’s legends."

"Veterans?"

"Those veterans who fought in the November War, he can command them. Only he can command them, I hear the Count intends to cultivate him into the next generation of commanders."

"That’s a bit outrageous."

"Possibly, there’s a rumor the Viscount is the Earth Sword Saint Darius’ last disciple. Think about it, before the Sword Saint became famous, people called him ’Wanage’ too, didn’t they?"

"I don’t think it’s likely, but I’ve heard Lord Darius has descendants, who knows where he went after all, maybe the Viscount is indeed that lord’s descendant. After all, Lord Darius wouldn’t want to see Erune divided..."

The soldiers discussed fervently, yet ultimately felt a solemn respect. During the kingdom’s revival era, Sword Saint Darius left a legendary reputation in Erune, his final mysterious retirement added striking colors to this tale. Civilians all believed the Earth Sword Saint was the kingdom’s Guardian God, destined to arise with a sword when the kingdom faces peril.

In "Amber Sword," such rumors even widely circulated among some players. Erune players even sought to refine the military swordsmanship left by Darius, but including Brand, no one could have predicted that the kingdom’s Guardian God would eventually be judged by time.

And that last hope was also swallowed in Buqi’s ashes.

Brand caressed the longsword, a sense of melancholy filling his heart.

Viscount von Doggen, however, held his head high, full of vigor. With careful observation, you would find that this rider, clad in silver armor, was the same young man who stood beside Vitokin a few days ago, and the Knight Captain who clashed with Brand before the auction house. He was the Nayue People’s prodigious knight, praised by even the November War veterans, thought to be the next Earth Sword Saint.

Viscount von Doggen wholeheartedly agreed.

He raised his long spear, riding the heavy Earth Dragon around the Northern Alliance’s main formation, trotting slowly; the cloak behind him streamed like a golden flame, where he passed, the Northern Alliance soldiers erupted in landslide cheers, shouting:

"Wagner! Wagner!"

"Wagner! Wagner!"

With a glistening forehead of sweat, the young man kept his head high as he approached Count Vitojin. The Count nodded with satisfaction. The White Lion Legion was replete with heroes, but the Black Blade Legion was not without successors; especially one praised by the November War veterans was unparalleled. This young man’s battles against the Tuokui Lion-men in the north were perfect, akin to the young Sword Saint Darius of old.