This is not her battle.
Brand knew that the Crusader Executioner possessed nearly 47 energy levels of power, which Bartom and Char were absolutely no match for currently. Letting them face off against this monster would probably only lead to their instant deaths. Char might be okay since he would only be unable to use the Highland Servant Card for a period of time. However, losing any one of Bartom, the Limp Man, Antitina or Little Roman was something he couldn't afford.
In an instant, he had already thought it through. At this moment, he was the only one who could use his familiarity with this terrible monster to divert it and seek an opportunity to escape. But as he watched the large monster, which had just turned its head—the two red Soul Fires within its dark eye sockets locking onto their group—he felt no confidence in his heart. After all, it was nearly a Silver Middle-tier monster, not comparable to the Spirit Statue Captain or the likes of Albton of this era, who were either below Silver rank or just newly advanced to it.
Brand had thought about abandoning Bartom, the Limp Man, and even Antitina, to buy himself time with these nominal subordinates. He was completely capable of doing so, as he was the only one familiar with this horrifying undead creature. Sometimes, a small misjudgment could change many things.
In fact, this thought had flashed through his mind, but the young man shuddered and rejected this tempting idea almost immediately. He couldn't tolerate himself doing such a thing; even thinking about it made him shiver. He thought if he could break his promise and abandon Bartom, the Limp Man, and even Antitina, there would be a day he could abandon even more people.
Frey, Romantic, the princess, and everything he insisted on would turn him into a cold-blooded monster who only cared for himself.
Brand shook his head to dispel this chilling thought from his mind. In just an instant, he was drenched in sweat as if experiencing a battle between heaven and man. He said in a deep voice, "You all run first, scatter and go separate ways. I'll hold this guy off."
Bartom stopped in his tracks. "My lord, you are the lord. How can we abandon you and leave?" The experienced mercenary, with his fiery red beard and some skill in reading signs, had completely assumed the role of a house servant at this moment, without even realizing it himself, naturally.
"My lord, this is the General's Guard of the Madara Undead Army. You are not its match. Please let me buy you some time," Char said earnestly, placing a hand on his chest.
"You recognize it?" Brand was taken aback.
"Brand," Antitina pulled her hand out of Bartom's grasp, turned around with a serious face, and asked, "We don't need you to play hero. We've placed our ideals on you. At least think seriously about a promise to a weak woman!"
"What are you saying, Antitina?" Bartom grabbed the girl's shoulder angrily.
But the second impact came quickly, and the three of them felt the terrible power at the door. Brand realized that time was running out. He waved his sword behind him and said in a deep voice, "Since when did men's battles have women interrupt? Bartom, take her down."
"Mr. Brand, you—" Antitina was stunned, but she took a breath, as if she suddenly understood Brand's meaning. She stopped and looked at the knight with a complex expression.
"Brand, what about me?" Romantic blinked and asked.
"Aren't you a woman?" Brand responded irritatedly.
"Oh—" Little Roman was somewhat disappointed.
Since it was an order, Bartom had no room for defiance. He could only nod and take Antitina and Romantic away from the other side of the platform. Looking back, he could already see a hidden small door behind the curtain. Most underground auction houses had such an emergency passage directly leading to the display room—sometimes an elevator driven by either manual or magical means—for both the convenience of transporting goods and dealing with possible inspections.
Of course, the likelihood of the latter happening was almost zero.
Simultaneously, Brand also breathed a sigh of relief. If he had dared to say that women shouldn't participate in wars in 'Amber Sword,' his Senior Sister and Squad Leader would have certainly beaten him to a pulp. Yet, unwittingly, he himself had become a competent squad leader. The old players and predecessors who had braved the wind and rain with him were leaving one by one, leaving him to fight alone.