The Amber Sword

“Sy?”

Makaro glanced bitterly at Brando, which made him understand what the other person had previously asked him. But this is too critical, and Leewoods will never allow him to offend this young man, even if the group members are separated in front of him, only to smash his teeth and swallow his blood. However, this punch came quickly and harshly, even with his strength, even in the face of the eyes of a young girl who had adopted herself without believing, questioning or containing a hint of weak doubt, he could not help but overdo it.

Even if he had a thousand 10,000 excuses to explain it, even if he understood that the girl he considered herself an adoptive daughter on this weekday wanted him to at least argue, even if it was a single word, Makaro could not say anything at this moment.

Everyone here can feel the power of the Golden Heart beating on Sy, the Golden Step. Makaro had no idea what had happened to her, and the power had escalated so fast that he thought it was the potential for a life-and-death outbreak, which meant that the girl with the long tail of a red horse was at least a genius - a genius that they had neglected. But on the other hand, the golden tree in Brando's hands also exudes the power of a purer heart of gold.

That's where the golden bloodline comes from.

Eat it and you have the fate of the chosen one.

Makaro's words rolled down his throat a few times, and when he opened his mouth, he became: "Sy, you are...”

His words seemed to overwhelm the girl's full heart, and she looked straight at the man - the man who had long occupied the father's corner in her heart; her eyes were more than disappointed to contain a deep plea for even a mere lie about happiness, which she was willing to believe. She was helpless, like that silly daughter, waiting for her heartless loved one to change her mind. I hope he can tell her later: I'm sorry, welcome back...

But she waited for a euphemism from the left to the right, sounding like a concern, but pale as a stranger. The tall figure in the impression seemed distant and blurred. She grabbed her chest with one hand and tears broke out: “I'm sorry, why...” She whimpered like an injured animal, losing her last momentum and kneeling on her knees, her eyes closed and she fell to the ground with a blast.

Lost consciousness--

Seeing such a scene, Makaro could not say a word.

Brando looked at this man coldly.

He felt a gentle push behind his back, and the young man nodded to understand what he meant. Without Arnoz, the dragon girl, he could not have detected Sy's arrival at all. But it was not his intention to make her go through something so sad, maybe he knew what Makaro would answer, but even so, he had to understand that - the truth is not charity, but he cannot tolerate Makaro playing any further by his side.

“I'm sorry.” Brando sighed.

He stood up and walked over to lift Sy up and wipe the dirt off her face - the girl appeared weak in her sleep, her tear-stained face a little pale, but rested like an angel. The young man pulled her body upright, then leaned her under a cold fir tree and turned back to look at everyone across the street with a gaze.

“Mr. Brando?” Leewoods saw some emotional instability around Makaro and had to intervene.

“Makaro! ”

Brando interrupted, and his fury finally burned out of his chest, and his voice chilled like a blade of cold. Everyone was stunned, wondering why Brando's attitude suddenly changed, but the young man was angry and said, "Don't think I don't know where you came from.”

“Since Anson VII, Eru has declined, and the light in the darkness has floated up and down in chaos - obscure and dim, as if the time had passed. Ten years, you seize every chance to win, invest everything like a gambler, the whole plan is sophisticated, heartless, seemingly logical, yet it's all just to overthrow the power to the wild Grand Duke of Anlek. You are hiding from the world that the monstrous old thing of the Grand Duke of Lantoniland is just trying to preserve the last thing. Who else is there to help you, Silvak? ”

Brando's words were like a handlebar sword stabbed into the heart of everyone present, and Makaro and Leewoods' faces suddenly turned white. They consciously forgot to breathe for a moment and could only guess where this young man was sacred.

Young people have outlined all their plans, and they believe it is a sacred act of solitude. All the sacrifices were worth it, even giving their own lives if necessary, and political confrontation had become a fanatical belief. As Brando said, there is only one chance, and the dawn will sweep away all darkness as soon as we grasp it and expect defeat to prevail.

This legendary story has a legendary ending. But they didn't expect the plan to fall into the eyes of a strange young man, not even a single drop, as early as 10 years ago, with some details that were not even clear to the followers. So now this young man, alias Brando...

Who is he?

What's his plan?

But the more angry Brando said, the more he stood upright, his body was like a blade, and his voice was as cold as the winter cold: "- You thought you could represent the justice of the royal family behind you, your swords fighting for the future of this country! Unfortunately, your stupidity prevents you from seeing the fact that, assuming you fail, can you reasonably send someone else to die? ”

“Wait," Leewoods frowned slightly, somewhat annoyed. Although this young man has something very important to them, their plans are not desecrated - because it represents a royal glory.

“What are you saying, Master Leewoods?” Brando asked indifferently.

“Everything you say is based on a hypothesis...”

“You want the truth? ”

Brando grinned and raised his head and couldn't help but take a deep breath.

At this moment it was as if another soul stood with him, the young man's eyes seemed to see through the shackles of the world, and Sophie's words returned to the other side of his soul - so much so that time and space had collapsed before him - but after all that had calmed down, what he saw in his eyes was everything from the past. Palaces and city pools burn in flames, kingdoms overthrow, and everything familiar with the past ceases to exist at this moment.

Her Royal Highness's vision.

The vows of the goddess of martial arts.

As if the kingdom could be reborn from the flames, each player fought with all his heart, yet Madara's dead spirit failed fragilely in front of the invasion like the player's black tide. Seems like a doomed failure, and a tragic end. Yet these aristocrats are still here at this very moment, manipulating the fate of the country as if they could see the final end —— the victory that they claim. Then, like a cold reaper, hold onto the life you hold and throw them into this fanatical sacrifice.

Silent, unnamed lives are flowing out like cold blood in these people.

Disappeared.

In exchange for a cold ending.

No one will be held accountable for this.

Players remember that black humor, but where are these nobles? They just switched boards to continue their game. Each time they are sacred, representing a light or a dark, just or good party, a belief that cannot be blasphemed, as if it were blood flowing from a noble family, so unquestionable - superficially unquestionable.

“How can I tell you the truth...” Brando sighed a little tired and waved: “It's like this golden apple in my hand. And of course I know what it does to you, because it makes your game more glorious, and it's like a shiny weight that tilts the scales towards you —— that's what you imagine. ”

“Too bad I'm not going to hit you. In any case, your failure is doomed.” He replied.

“What did you say?” Even Buga couldn't bear to frown this time.

“Young people, not everyone can be a star.” Leewoods shook his head.

“Yet those witches who bewitched people with rumors were tied to the fire hanger -” Macaro added, glancing coldly at Brando.

Brando smiled.

Yes, but he happens to be the one who can predict -- no, the one who sees them fail. But he wouldn't say that. He just said, "Don't you believe me? ”

“Reason?” Buga simply asked.

“I remember in the brightest years of Eruin. The knights of Eruin held the trumpet and the flying swallowtail flag - when the trumpet sounded, the blade of the kingdom did not move forward. I remember the battlefield was a sea of flags embroidered with the golden Corcova crest, the Goran-Elson crest, the Anlek crest. I remember the nobles of that era, who kept their vows ——” Brando laughed. “Remember that vow? ”

Everyone was stunned.

“Don't you remember?” Brando's eyes are full of crumbs: “It's okay, I can read it to you. ”

“I take the oath of sainthood under this sword! I vow to lead my people away from strife and slaughter, from the arrogance and greed of the imperial nobility; I vow that, in order not to repeat this cold-blooded mistake of history, I will make the nobles of this nascent kingdom obey the spirit of the knights - just and clear, just and courageous, kind and generous, and I take this vow and abide by it with the rest of my life! ”

Brando reads the phrase forcefully and then looks at a group of people who are temporarily speechless.

“Remember who took that oath?” He asked softly.

Leewoods, Makaro and Buga took a look at each other and it was slightly hot on the face, of course they knew how they didn't know. They just forgot.

“Yes," Brando nodded: “This is the source of all your beliefs, the very essence of the spirit of the aristocracy, the oath made by your forefathers and wise benevolent monarchs, the first generation of kingdoms, His Majesty the Merciful Ecker, under the sword of the Lion's Heart. Do you remember what he said? If one day the nobles forget their duty, the sword comes from there and returns to it and no longer protects the country. ”

“Do you remember? ”

“Don't you remember...”

“That's too bad. ”

Brando sighed softly and his eyes cast into the forest.

The afternoon sun penetrated between the woodlands, and at this moment, for the first time, the forest in the south appeared so tranquil and...

……

(PS. Regarding some students' perceived delays, I will note that they will accelerate.) (To be continued, please go to www.qidian.com for more chapters, support the author, and support authentic reading!)