Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1346: Chapter 1345: Life Is Always Full of Ups and Downs and Downs and Downs and Downs

Upon witnessing that brain, Bertrum realized that the situation might have exceeded his expectations. However, there was no time for further contemplation—accompanied by a dizzying mental shock, all the dark priests felt their perceptions momentarily scrambled. The next second, the heavily armed, muscular "brain" began its ferocious attack on its surroundings.

The magic cannon emitted a sharp whistle, as swords and spears filled with electric light and heat waves shot out arcs and flames. Heavy mechanical warhammers hurled down from the sky, turning everything they struck, be it wooden limbs or rocky pillars in the cave, into fragments scattering everywhere. The dark priests tried hastily to organize a counterattack, but whenever they attempted to mobilize stronger magic power, they felt a stabbing pain in their minds. Intense mental pulses interrupted their casting repeatedly, leaving even Bertrum struggling to maintain his barrier for protection and summon the most basic vines to disrupt the "brain’s" attack.

More than the relentless mental interference, the shock at the moment shook Bertrum’s cognition. Watching his followers retreat in the savage brain’s assault, wielding heavy weapons, he felt like he was experiencing a bizarre nightmare—a thought violently echoed in his mind: what on earth is this thing?!

"Boom!!"

A loud explosion came from nearby, and the ensuing gas waves staggered Bertrum back. His mutated, hardly human, plant-like body felt severe pain in the waves; he knew he had been impacted by the blast—the shockwave from the magical weapons penetrated the shield and harmed the biological tissues beneath his wooden skin, forcing him to wake up from the chaos and loudly command his followers: "It’s a trap! Withdraw to the passage!"

Yes, it was a trap. He knew from the very beginning that there was a trap here, but he never expected the truly dangerous part of the trap wasn’t the ambush outside—but his target itself. He brought plenty of cannon fodder and leveled every hostile unit inside this underground lair with cautious means, even sacrificing the root system allocated to him by the Archbishop in the cavern to completely lock this "final chamber." Yet he hadn’t anticipated the strongest combat force here... was a brain...

Indeed, he successfully sealed this place—locking himself and his followers together with this terrifying monster in front of them.

Whistling came from the side, a huge sense of crisis arose spontaneously. Bertrum instinctively raised a barrier and, at the next moment, saw the brain striking down with a giant stalagmite broken from an unknown place, wielded by its tentacles. The collision between the shield and the stone brought a surge of magic power that shattered Bertrum’s dry branches and leaves. Alongside the violent impact came a powerful mental shock released by the brain.

In that mental shock, he finally heard Beltira’s voice again—layered with several other voices, as if extended from the Plains of the Holy Spirits through a series of mental relay organs and ultimately released by the robust, aggressive brain in front of him: "Bertrum, I hope my hospitality is to your satisfaction."

"Beltira!!" Bertrum’s eyes widened in fury. He watched helplessly as one of his followers was knocked unconscious by a giant stone hurled by the brain and dragged into the dark depths by vines suddenly growing from the nearby cavern. A sense of immense failure and some inexplicable fear broke through, and he cursed loudly: "You abnormal freak, you miserable mongrel! What have you created?!"

"It’s quite humorous hearing that from you, my fellow," Beltira said leisurely, while the brain simultaneously raised its muscular tentacles high and struck Bertrum’s shaky barrier with a heavy warhammer. "Don’t always blame your defeat on the enemy being too strong; you need to admit you’re just a waste, reaching this far only to be pinned down by me."

As the scornful voice in the mental depths faded, a muffled sound interrupted all of Bertrum’s thoughts. The barrier he had maintained thus far was finally smashed into shimmering particles by the heavy warhammer. Amid a few swishing sounds, several strong tentacles directly entwined his wooden "arms" and several primary branches. In that instant, he felt as if he was constrained by metal-cast arms, forcibly pulled into mid-air, as the roots desperately clutching the ground were mercilessly torn away. Ultimately, he faced off against the massive "brain" at a very close distance where he could clearly see the slight rippling biological tissue and the ridges and protrusions on its surface.

He suddenly speculated whether those protrusions on the "brain" surface might each be solid, well-trained muscles.

"I don’t admit... I don’t admit such defeat..." Temporarily restrained, the Dark Hierarch struggled with all his might, vainly attempting to mobilize magic power while desperately resisting the will’s erosion transmitted by the brain before him in the depths of his consciousness, "What do you count as..."

"Fighting requires brains, Bertrum," Beltira’s voice interrupted scornfully, "you’re defeated solely by my intelligence."

All prior attacks and insults couldn’t compare in damage to this sentence—Bertrum instantly felt his reason pulled to the brink. He glared at the brain, akin to a mountain of muscles, and at the deadly weapons held by its tentacles and the large area its violent attacks had destroyed. Intense indignation surged through his heart: "You call this using brains?!"

"What else then?" The floating brain tightened its tentacles, Bertrum felt his branches gradually being stripped away. Beltira’s contemptuous voice echoed slowly in his mind, "I indeed have a very powerful brain—for today, these synthetic brains active on the front lines even do five sets of strength training and four hours of combat simulation daily..."

Bertrum suddenly fell into silence, speaking after a few seconds as if resigned, "...Enough, kill me already."

"No need to hurry; your death holds little value. The ’information’ stored in your mind is more meaningful to me. I will patiently strip away your mental core and absorb and process the memories stored within—your followers are already undergoing this process, yet I believe the secrets you know are far greater than theirs..."

Bertrum didn’t respond to the voice in his mind, as if he had truly given up resisting. Meanwhile, the followers he brought were mostly defeated by the brain and dragged into the dark depths by the vines growing from nearby caves. Only one last dark priest was still tottering at the cave’s edge, perhaps too insignificant, or maybe Beltira was focused entirely on stripping Bertrum’s "core." That remaining dark priest was actually untouched at the moment, cautiously moving small roots toward the cave exit, having now reached its edge.

Bertrum’s gaze shifted to that dark priest, silently sensing every magic fluctuation released by the brain restraining him until a moment when he finally seized the opportunity.

"Sandok!" Bertrum abruptly shouted, calling the dark priest’s name. His voice shattered the silence in the cave, halting the priest’s movements—his instincts sensing danger immediately, yet he reflexively turned out of habit from years of obedience, meeting Bertrum’s gradually torn, dissolving face and eyes glowing with magic power.

"No, Hierarch, I beg..."

The dark priest’s anguished cry was abruptly cut off, as the "mark" planted deep in his soul activated; he perceived his consciousness instantly transferred into a nearly torn and immobile body, the view filled entirely by the floating "brain." Before his consciousness sank into darkness, he saw "his" body begin to sprint towards the cave exit.

The next moment, the entire underground space filled with Beltira’s cold, angry killing intent.

The deadly intent surged from behind, cold enough to freeze the air completely. Bertrum sprinted madly through the dark underground cavern, relentlessly sending out orders to intercept and chase without regard, using every nearby activity-capable aberration and dark root system, until the immense fear gradually faded from his heart and he began to feel "life" return to his fate.

He knew he had escaped alive.

The power of that brain was limited to the "cave" covered in a sea of flowers, and the aberrations and sprawling roots he had brought from the wasteland had indeed dissolved the "enemies" outside the cave. After escaping from that terrifying brain, he had finally regained "safety" once more.

"Sandok... I will remember you, thank you for your ’sacrifice’..." Bertrum muttered under his breath, speaking quickly as he rushed towards a crack he sensed leading to the surface, "These things from the Eternal Sleepers are actually somewhat useful... Damn it, this body is still too weak, I must find a way to regain my strength later..."

He grumbled to himself, both as a plan for the future and as a method to dispel his inner fear and tension.

At the last critical moment, he had used a powerful secret technique he had learned when the Oblivion Association and the Eternal Sleepers cult were still in "collaboration," to exchange his soul with that of a subordinate—being a cautious and life-loving person, he had long ago embedded a corresponding "Soul Theft Mark" deep in every follower’s soul, but never imagined this arrangement would be useful in today’s situation.

In any case, he survived, which meant he had to start considering the problems he would face after surviving.

For instance... yet another disgraceful, miserable, infuriating failure, and in this failure, he not only lost all the manpower the Archbishop assigned him, but also a large branch of the root network, losing all his followers, and even... losing his own body.

And more terrifying than these losses was that some of his followers had been captured alive by the enemy...

He still clearly remembered Beltira’s words, knowing those captured dark priests would become sources of intelligence for mortals—and that would be his most terrifying crime to date.

"I need to find a way... The Archbishop will not accept this outcome... Attribute the failure to a subordinate? No, too clumsy... First figure out how to fabricate a ’result’ that is sufficient to make up for the loss? No, it might be uncovered... Damn, that damned madwoman, if it weren’t for her..."

Bertrum cursed viciously, as a faint light appeared at the end of his vision. Glancing down at his "arms" in this light, he saw unfamiliar bark and patterns, which gave him a new idea: "Wait, I don’t have to face the Archbishop’s wrath directly... The fault was Bertrum’s, but I can be Sandok... A loyal, obedient priest who fought to the death, only to be dragged down by inept superiors. Yes, this is it... I fought and escaped with vital intelligence; Bertrum failed, but a priest who survives a fierce battle need not endure the Archbishop’s wrath..."

A false sense of relief washed over him, as Bertrum felt he had somehow escaped the punishment that hadn’t yet arrived, beginning on this basis to ponder how he should quickly recuperate, quickly climb back up to the "Archbishop" position, and as for "revenge"... He had completely abandoned this unrealistic notion.

The crazy "ancient Saint Princess"... She was beyond his capability to deal with, let the other dark hierarchs figure something out. He wanted to stay far away from the whole Northern Front Battlefield, and if possible, preferably be transferred to the Southern Front Battlefield...

Just then, the light from ahead interrupted the dark priest’s wild thoughts.

The underground passage finally came to an end, and he... returned to the surface.

The not-so-bright sunlight poured down from the sky, and as the air currents of the surface world rustled the branches and leaves of Bertrum’s new body, he paused, a belated joy finally surging through his heart.

"Ah... I am lucky after all..."

He sighed softly, stepping out from the cave linking the surface with the underground, the cold wind brushing across his bark as he greedily savored the surrounding crisp air and the sensation of freedom and safety.

Moments later, he calmed his emotions and began to survey his surroundings – after a desperate escape, he urgently needed to understand his current location.

Then, to his surprise, he saw a small hill standing against the backdrop of a sky faintly illuminated by dawn, with an oddly styled mansion situated atop the hill.

A tall woman pushed open the mansion’s door and came out, watching the standing Bertrum on the flat ground with a hint of curiosity. After a moment, she smiled, and some glowing structures resembling magic symbol rings appeared and vanished around her as if removing certain restraints, while her form suddenly seemed blurry, mysterious, and imposing.

She smiled and opened her arms.

At that moment, Bertrum saw endless starlight, endless colors, endless light, and infinite truths and mysteries.

His eyes began to be filled with fear and madness.

Every eye opening on every branch was filled with fear and madness.

(Time for a book recommendation, a friendly recommendation of "I Kidnapped the Timeline" by "Typing Keyboard Daily," Sci-fi genre, the idea feels very creative, though there are not many words yet, but the future is promising.)