A miraculous scene appeared. In the eyes of the fleeing civilians, the cavalry charging at that young man seemed to be made of paper—they raised their swords to clash with Brand, but the Fine Steel Longsword immediately bent backward, snapped, and shattered into thousands of steel needles that shot back. Then, an enormous force sent the rider and horse high into the air, both flying back in unison.
One, two, three—the refugees behind Brand couldn’t help but count out loud, counting all the way to seven. The three remaining cavalrymen were terrified, tightly pulling their reins and unwilling to come any closer.
Yulier stared at Brand, as if he had seen a ghost. Markov’s guards were even more frightened, completely forgetting their duties and letting the refugees breach their defensive line, rushing over to Brand’s side.
"Who are you?" The Cavalry Captain couldn’t help but feel a chill in his hands and feet. He had seen the Captain Level members of the White Mane Legion’s Swordsmen—those people were considered masters of their strength and swordsmanship. But compared to this young man in front of him, they seemed insignificant.
Who exactly is this miraculous figure?
Brand sheathed his sword and exhaled lightly. Using Power Burst seven times in a row consumed one-fifth of his overall stamina, and he could feel his arm faintly tingling.
"I told you, my name is Du’en." He pointed his sword at them: "So now you can settle down and listen to me, right?"
Yulier and Markov exchanged looks. Did they have a choice? His eleven subordinates might not be extremely strong, but they were still the best selected from the local Militia, mid-level White Rank Swordsmen. Combined with the impact from the horses, even ordinary soldiers from the White Mane Legion wouldn’t dare face them head-on.
And yet, executing seven consecutive strikes, with each sword strike sending someone flying, and still remaining calm afterward—only Luc Besson’s six squad captains could match such level.
Black Iron Middle Stage, so young—Yulier couldn’t help but swallow. Luc Besson’s squad captains were all seasoned soldiers in their thirties and forties.
"It seems you understand now." Brand saw Yulier and Markov’s dumbfounded expressions and nodded: "I asked you to leave earlier, but I regret it. So I take back what I said. Now, block the path. No matter how many Undead come, your task is to stop them."
"Here." Char jumped down from the carriage, and upon seeing Brand extend his hand, he handed him the pocket watch with understanding.
Brand checked the time, fifteen minutes until four. But Frey was nowhere to be seen, causing him to frown. Then he raised his head and said, "You are the Security Cavalry of Ridenburg. Assisting fleeing civilians is your duty, so without my reminder, you should be fighting bravely—"
"Lord, I am a merchant." Markov dared not act arrogant, replied cautiously.
Brand glanced at him, and replied irritably: "You have been requisitioned."
Markov opened his mouth.
"Of course," Brand looked at the Security Cavalry climbing up from the ground and replied: "I will personally supervise you all here. If anyone wants to desert, they can try my sword. You must choose between fighting me or the bone skeletons."
He turned to look at the civilians behind him—except for a small few remaining close to him due to Yulier’s threats earlier—further away, panic was spreading through the crowd, causing them to hasten northward. People pushed each other, crushing many beneath, who could never get up again. Cries, shouts, curses, and screams mixed, creating an apocalyptic scene. In comparison, his area seemed like the eye of a storm—calm.
And the center of this calm was Brand himself.
"You should leave too, make the best use of your time, don’t let the Security Cavalry of Ridenburg’s sacrifice be in vain." Brand waved at them. He wasn’t a Savior, but he could send people along their way for free.
Unexpectedly, aside from a few, most people refused to move. In fact, these people saw the tragic scene of pushing and squeezing among the crowd. Not being part of it, they certainly didn’t want to become part of it. They preferred to rely on Brand, hoping this formidable young man could lead them out.