Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 493 - 492: The First Toll of Dawn’s Bell

In the darkness.

Pinpricks of artificial light flickered weakly in the dark alleys.

The increasingly chilly night wind swept between buildings, carrying the stench from the gutter corners through streets and alleys. Ancient edifices stood in this dead and cold night sky, with starlight cascading from the eternal sky upon rooftops, spires, and city walls, revealing vague outlines of these dark silhouettes, amidst which shadows occasionally flitted by.

Those fleeting shadows carried an air of tension and resolve, with slightly hurried steps in the darkness, they passed along a hushed message among neighbors, friends, and kin: ”Wait for the first toll at dawn.”

Cobbler Brum, wrapped in a scarf, walked on the darkened streets. The night wind at dawn seemed to carry malice, making him shiver slightly—he couldn’t tell if the shiver was from fear, excitement, or merely the cold, but he felt as if a flame burned in his chest. With this fire, he dared to step outside and onto the street.

The curfew decreed by the priests of the church district had long been void, and patrolling soldiers and Church Knights had vanished. The Outer City District had been uncontrolled for several days, while a current once hidden in darkness began to rise, now reaching its moment of breakthrough.

New shadows appeared on the darkened street; the cobbler’s steps hesitated, but soon he recognized the familiar shadow of the Mender, and their steps quickly converged. They looked at each other in the darkness, lowering their voices to ask quietly: ”Waiting for the bell?” ”Waiting for the bell.”

A flickering light emerged from the corner not far away. The cobbler and mender immediately looked toward the source of light. They saw a man known for his daring reputation, a blacksmith, approaching them. Behind the blacksmith was a woman carrying an oil lamp, a farmer holding a pitchfork, and an apprentice wielding a stick.

The blacksmith handed the torch to the cobbler: ”There’s no need to hide; stepping outside is already a crime punishable by death.”

More and more people emerged from their homes, some were craftsmen, others farmers, and apprentices. These emaciated individuals seemed to emerge from hell, but flames danced in each of their eyes as they gathered between streets, with more torches and oil lamps gradually illuminating the street corners. Amongst the wavering lights were pairs of still muddled yet remarkably determined eyes.

”Act when the bell tolls. Remember, those with white bands on their arms are friends.” ”What about friends outside the city?” ”They’ve already arrived...”

No one could clearly say where the rumors first started, nor could anyone say who propelled tonight’s events, but everyone knew—they’d consumed the last of their household food, gathered the last of their strength, and they might not survive the night. But as long as the morning sun rose, each would achieve freedom.

Cobbler Brum held the torch aloft, his gaze directed towards the western direction of the city wall, where a flickering light appeared.

The soldier guarding the gate nervously held an oil lamp, eyeing the situation beneath the city walls. Beside him were two similarly tense soldiers, and before their eyes sprawled a dark mass of people on the vast plain outside, accompanied by countless flickering lights within the crowd.

These people, from villages near Lu’an City, neighboring cities, and even territories next door gathered on the plains. Their commotion grew increasingly loud, and from the rear of the gathering, more approached along the gravel road. The torchlight stretched across the plains, like a giant burning serpent slowly enclosing this church city that stood for centuries.

Most striking upon these plains were those at the forefront of the crowd, clad in heavy white armor, bearing giant hammers, enveloped by radiance.

Those were the White Knights from the Cecil Clan.

At this moment, they represented not the armed forces of Cecil but the new Holy Light Order.

”Do we... do we open the gates?” The soldier asked, trembling as he turned to the veteran beside him, touching the white band on his arm, his voice filled with fear, ”Won’t they also...”