A collapse centered around one person.
On the battlefield, standing firm was Sir Glus's personal guard, along with his knights.
Brand remained staring into the distance at the other side, but now the gap between them was less than a hundred ters. Yet, it seed both sides had lost the will to resu fighting; Brand stood encircled by the wolf pack, watching the human knights in front part to make way.
Behind them was Sir Glus, mounted in full armor.
Glus actually understood that he was defeated, yet he did not concede.
This knight, who once left his comrades behind and fled the battlefield at Condor, now sat on horseback, holding a longsword. He commanded everyone else to stay behind, as he intended to battle Brand one-on-one.
He held the longsword in his right hand, sitting astride his horse, extending his left hand towards Brand from afar.
Brand looked at him, understanding his intent: it was a challenge.
He nodded.
Then Sir Glus raised his longsword, shouting, "Erune, your sword forever shines!"
The wolf pack parted.
Brand spurred his horse forward, his pace unhurried.
Glus charged down from the mountain, while Brand ascended slowly from below, the two passing each other. Brand directly transferred the longsword from his right hand to his left, using the Claw of Bahamut to seize Glus's longsword, without any flourish, and thrust his left sword into the opponent's chest.
With a loud thud, the enormous force knocked Glus off his steed. The veteran of the November War rolled several tis, ending up dusty on the ground, using the last of his strength to look up at the young man on horseback.
"The honor you brought back, cough..." ca the muffled voice from under his visor: "I accept it."
Brand gazed down at him and said, "In truth, I ca to tell you they do not bla you. That war was not your fault."
Sir Glus froze: "How... is that possible, cough, are you lying to ?"
"The oak tree in De Kota's hotown, you should know of it, he entrusted to ask you to take care of it. It was planted by his father when he was a child," Brand replied in a low voice.
"It truly is him... sob..." The knight cried like a child: "I failed them..."
Brand remained silent.
The November War itself was a mistake—he knew Glus's story originated from a quest in a ga. Sir Glus was filled with remorse over his actions, and ten years later, he would offer the quest to all recognized players—a famous quest known to everyone among the Southern Territory players. The quest's na was 'Redemption', and Brand held respect for this old knight, for at least he was willing to repent for his actions. In fact, at the battlefield of Condor, he had committed no significant wrongs.
He was rely following orders.
Sir Glus lost his breath amidst his tears, Brand sighed, for the blood on the battlefield was Erueins'. Yet, he had no choice but to end the kingdom's war through such actions. Perhaps only through a baptism of blood and fire could this country be reborn.
He looked up at the remaining knights of Gruding on the battlefield.
"Leave," he said, "this is no longer your battlefield."
But the knights shook their heads.
"We don't know what you know, sir, but you brought pride back to our lord, and that is noble. Thank you," a leading knight replied, "but this is where we die."
The sound of drawing swords filled the air.
Brand shook his head and turned away, the Black Wolf pounced.
...
The mountain people fled in fear, Sir Glus was dead, and the alliance of the Grusians fell apart. The Lord of the Grizzly Bear hesitated endlessly, unwilling to advance. Madara remained quiet, but that was fine, as the dead were not trustworthy.
The situation on the battlefield seed to have reversed in an instant. Though the advantage was solid, it vanished in monts. A desolate atmosphere began to pervade the mountains and forests.
On the frontline, Pallas suddenly felt a profound fatigue. He looked around; the eyes of the knights beside him were still filled with the hope of victory. Yet, the bodies of soldiers littered the battlefield, intermingled with broken long spears and smashed armor, while tattered flags dyed the color of the sunset seed like blood.
In reality, it had already failed.
But he could still retreat to the Pallas Territory – these Rebels could not trap him. As long as he was still around, he could reorganize the Alliance. Although Madara acted with duplicity, it was still a force to be reckoned on.
Just...
Victory was so close, almost within reach, clearly visible, yet why did it turn into nothing in an instant, or was it an unreasonable expectation in the first place? What had happened to Erune?
All that was familiar had drifted away, leaving only the taste of mories. The older knights led the younger ones into battle, teaching them the ideals of Erune before setting out, maintaining a belief passed down through the generations. Pallas had once been young, still rembering those knights' songs.
Yet those songs were no longer sung—
The decayed kingdom resembled a collapsing wall, shrouding all light. The old knight seed to see rays of new light piercing the dark wall, hoping to see the future beyond it, yet he was destined to be buried beneath the collapsing wall first.
After news from both battlefields arrived, he lost control over his army. Most soldiers from the external territories fled, and the lords, great and small, retreated with their forces to the back of the battlefield. Pallas didn't want to mock these cowards, for it was pointless.
He led three thousand n from the Pallas Territory onwards; the old knight's visor was stained with the blood-red hue of sunset, as he prepared to write the final chapter of this war.
...(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian) to vote with your recomndation ticket or monthly ticket. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
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