The proud and fearso army of Madara always hesitates to step across the Thunder Pool.
Because there are always two people standing before this Undead Army - a man and a woman. The woman is an Elf, proud and calm as if possessing the radiance of the stars in the sky. Her young age seems incapable of displaying such poise, yet it does not hinder her commanding presence in the slightest.
disha, holding a silver long shuttle, stands quietly before Tagus, less than a hundred paces away. In her eyes, Madara's army seems to have long been nonexistent.
And the man is a middle-aged swordsman. He hasn't looked at Madara's army even once, yet the tens of thousands of the Undead dare not ignore his existence.
Because he is phisto, the Gray Sword Saint.
"Pallas has initiated the charge." A Black Knight whispered in Tagus's ear.
Tagus nodded.
"What did Lord Instarlon say?"
"The Lord said, Erune... never lacks heroes. It's the choice of a soldier, and we must respect the glory on the battlefield." The Black Knight replied softly.
Tagus nodded.
"Then we shall retreat, hoping to set foot on this land once more in our lifeti." The Vampire Commander glanced at disha, then at phisto, answering thus.
"We are already dead, Lord." The Black Knight replied softly.
Tagus thought for a mont and nodded.
The shadows of the Undead faded gradually from the forest.
...
On the battlefield, there were fewer than two thousand left, and their enemy was rely an alliance of hundreds of rcenaries and Tree Elves, Centaurs.
But the outco was already decided.
The two thousand soldiers, rely at the Black Iron Early Stage, less than a hundred Silver Rank Knights—against hundreds of real Silver Middle Rank, even Silver Peak, battle-hardened warriors who survived the Wolf Calamity.
The Flying Horse soared, and the arrows from the Tree Elf's longbows never missed. It was a one-sided massacre on the battlefield. Pallas listened to the screams of young people around him, his heart wrenching with pain. These were the future he once believed was Erune's—yes, generation after generation, Erune's elder knights leading the young onto the battlefield, singing the knight's battle anthem, granting them supre glory—but the old knight found himself powerless.
The charge had long been stopped, and even on this battlefield alone, Pallas saw at least four Golden Rank combatants.
A red-haired ponytail girl wielding a spear, a Tree Elf, a Centaur, and a short-haired girl wearing n's clothing, unbelievably beautiful.
This was the so-called Rebel Army—
Unknown when, the golden flags on the battlefield began to be stained with the color of blood. The old knight watched generations of young faces disappear before him, suddenly feeling this farce should end.
Yes, it should end.
The long spear in Qian's hand was no longer the original Thunder Gun because the Thunder Gun was lost in the Black Forest, and it couldn't be found again later. Now she held rely an ordinary Magic Spear. Brand had once promised her to find a suitable weapon after leaving the Black Forest, but subconsciously the girl didn't want to bother her Lord with this matter.
She now feared Brand would find her troubleso, fearing one day he too might disdain her like Macaro.
But going without a weapon was impossible; her strength was already the undisputed number one in Brand's camp. Although still far from phisto's level, phisto seriously wasn't truly one of Brand's own people, at most an ally. As for Brand, though his combat power was high, his rank was only Middle Gold. Yet Qian was genuinely at the Golden Peak, just a step away from entering the Realm of Elents.
Such power was really limited using just an ordinary Magic Gun, but the girl was a bit anxious, gripping her spear tightly, biting her lip, and killing several in and out within the remnants of Jandener's troops.
The remaining troops of Jandener were rely Pallas's own forces; the knights and Golden Knights supplented from elsewhere had long fled, leaving those who posed no real threat to her.
Together with the cross-dressing vampire dphis, she wove through their formations, attempting to thoroughly divide and crush them. Actually, by this point even Qian herself felt that the opposite was already a spent force.
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