The cold wind was like a line, passing through the battlefield, the gravel was like smoke across the dark ground, the collar of the count's coat swayed in one direction, a hand pressed it down and straightened it.
The purple jade marrow button reflected a thin line in the sky, Brando was like a straight spear on the horse's back, facing all of this. The big earthquake rumbled, the small stone pieces moved horizontally on the solid ground.
The light in the sky gradually dimmed, the setting sun was burning, emitting the last trace of heat.
A silver network stretched out from the clouds behind him, over his head, and stretched forward. Silver pulses of light cascaded forward, connected to each other, grid by grid, glittering.
The wind blew his long hair, the dark brown hair swept across his cheeks, strand by strand, Brando's expression was calm, as if he was standing and listening to a distant song.
That song was like a gust of wind that traveled tens of thousands of miles across the battlefield, carrying with it countless ideals and countless memories.
Thousands of voices, overlapping each other, thousands of wills, converged into one.
Clouds and mist walked on the battlefield.
The illusory Knight stopped, their blurry faces seemed to have a gaze, watching one end of the battlefield.
In every corner of the battlefield, twenty-seven ancient kings with laurel crowns on their heads turned their heads, they held their swords in their hands, but they all cast their gazes in one direction.
The Lionheart Sword shone brightly.
Seven hundred and eighty years ago, a team of Knight arrived at today's Gray Mane Valley.
A man held his sword in front of the Knight and said,
"I swear by my sword, Erouine will bear the glory, sweep away all oppression and injustice, my people, my subjects, will follow the oath of the sages and walk along this path, if one day, the glory abandons us, this sword will no longer protect this country."
One thousand six hundred years ago, a flag was slowly raised on the battlefield of the Great Plains, reflecting the first rays of the dawn of that day.
"Then why are we fighting? Knight, people of Cruz, my brothers – for victory, for the future, for tomorrow, for our descendants, no longer living under the shadow of the Miirnas. What we need is not charity, men, tell me, what do we need? "
The King holding the Golden Flame Blade listened attentively.
A long wind blew through the clouds.
The migratory bird spread its wings, making a rustling sound.
Nine hundred and ninety years ago, the Mist Elves established a country in the Supreme Court.
"This everlasting forest will be our kingdom from now on. Elves, we have traveled thousands of miles just to find this everlasting land. We were born here, and we will sleep here. From now on, there will be no more wars —"
An epoch ago, two great wills met above the clouds.
"Dusk, this era is different, the future will no longer belong to you and us."
The knight raised his spear and made an oath. A speck of green light appeared in the sky, as resplendent as the sunset.
Then, thousands upon thousands of voices resounded in his mind, creating a cacophony of noise.
"Then, why should we give up our authority?"
"Can you be sure of the consequences of failure?"
"What is Martha doing?"
"This is the last time we'll give in …"
"Restart the world. I'm sorry, we failed …"
Brando closed his eyes.
Listen, this is the voice of the sages.
The struggles of countless generations, the blood and sacrifice of countless generations, those that were recorded in history, and those that were forgotten by history. The long river flowed, like the sparkling light on the river, every memory fragment was like the flow of an epic.
And there was an ultimate answer to all of this.
When Brando opened his eyes again, the silver grid was reflected in the depths of his eyes, like a silver flame, burning fiercely. He looked up, his gaze seemed to be able to penetrate the clouds, seeing the rows of arrays outside the Wohnde world. Countless rays of light were hanging down from these satellites, penetrating the clouds and falling to the ground.
The entire battlefield seemed to be divided by the silver line.
"This is the law of Tiamat."
"Time and space, energy and mass, at this time and place, there is no distinction between them, what is the ultimate power in this world?"
"Existence — —"
"Countless people have sacrificed countless lives to achieve all of this, it is so that we can exist in this world, so that civilization and order can continue to exist, so that our ideals and beliefs can continue to shine."
"So," a voice said softly, "we have no reason to retreat."
A translucent female figure seemed to be projected from the clouds, landing beside Brando. Her figure moved slightly, as if she would disappear at any time.
"Lady Tiamat, perhaps I should call you Martha?"
"Me? Martha? Not even close, that is not a power that I can seize, it does not belong to me. "The woman smiled and shook her head.
"So, all of this was arranged by you? Who exactly are you?"
Brando felt the power resonating in his body, if he still did not understand what was going on at this moment, he would have wasted his life's experience. He asked softly.
Haku looked at him and mouthed three words.
The Ultimate Saint.
"Then, why?"
"You still don't have an answer in your heart?" Haku turned around, looking at the approaching Crystal Cluster army, and answered.
"What kind of power is this?" Brando raised his head and looked at the silver pillars of light descending from the sky, penetrating the clouds like raindrops, and falling on the horizon.
"This is the power, the power of the entire world."
"This world was formed by it, and was born for it, it is what the Twilight Dragon has been searching for — the truth of the world, but unfortunately, it only belongs to the true king."
"The true king, who are you talking about?"
Haku looked at him and shook his head, "Maybe it is you, but not really. But maybe one day, you will get that key. So, take the opportunity now, and feel it well, this may be the last thing I can do for you. "
Brando did not understand the meaning behind this sentence, he took a deep breath, the tremors of the earth becoming more and more obvious, the Crystal Cluster army was almost in front of him.
He raised his head and stared at the battlefield in front of him. At that moment, it was as if thousands of wills were added to him, countless voices lingering and echoing in his mind, converging into a sentence.
"This is our power, our country, our civilization, our history, this is time and space, the sharp blade given to us by God, this is amber, the sword that changes fate, one day, it will backtrack everything, change everything —"
"Take a step forward, our successor, our king, we will personally crown you, put on the laurel crown, bathe in the mountains, take over this power, and end all of this, fate and chains."
Brando raised his five fingers and gently pushed.
Directly opposite the Black Plague army —
The entire army facing the Crystal Cluster army.
With a loud bang, millions of Crystal Clusters left the ground, struggling helplessly in mid-air.
There was a moment of dead silence on the battlefield.
Outside Wohnde's atmosphere, in the array that was arranged like a star ring, the surface of tens of millions of satellites burst out bright light belts, emitting intense light, and operating wildly.
A bright river of light hung upside down in the sky above the entire world. It stretched across the sky, like a flowing Milky Way, emitting bright light.
At that moment.
The entire world resonated, and a voice seemed to reverberate in the depths of the world. The Scepter of Truth was slowly descending from the sky above the world.
It was held tightly in Brando's hand.
Her Majesty the Queen of Madara even forgot to pick up her mercury staff.
The Death Lords did not notice their monarch's loss of composure at all.
Adeline covered her mouth in disbelief.
Tarkus tightened the reins, looking at this scene with a complicated expression.
"Martha … above." The Knight squeezed out these few words from the depths of their throats.
Behind everyone, Metisha looked at this scene in high spirits, her eyes full of deep admiration. But she glanced at her companions, turned her horse around, and galloped in one direction without looking back.
"Attack … attack?"
Among the Death Lords, someone asked dryly.
Incirsta suddenly turned his head.
"Where are the reinforcements?"
"Where are the reinforcements?"
He asked sternly. The Crystal Cluster army's frontal attack was really stopped by that person alone, and a huge gap appeared in their front line. He suddenly realized that at this time, as long as there was a fresh force that could insert into this weak point on the battlefield from the flank, then this war would be settled.
But …
Where were the reinforcements?
The Black Plague Army?
No, they were not enough.
He and Brando turned their heads at the same time to look for Metisha's figure, but there was no trace of the Silver Elf Princess. Incirsta and the marshal looked at each other.
The wind on the battlefield suddenly became stronger.
Brando turned his head, his messy hair almost covering his eyes and blurring his vision, but he did not speak in silence. He was just waiting, waiting for the arrival of the fresh force that Metisha had mentioned.
He believed in this Silver Elf Princess as much as he believed in himself. He knew that Metisha would never lie to him.
He was waiting quietly.
But there was not much time left for him.
Above his head, the galaxy was still shining brightly.
Tiamas's projection was beside him, his expression unchanged.
The wind became wild.
The wind that swept across the battlefield seemed to come out of nowhere. In the camp of the Undead, the black flags were suddenly raised high one by one, flapping loudly. In the blink of an eye, it was a sea of flags.
The airflow swept up the gravel, like a dust storm, sweeping across the entire battlefield.
The Death Wizards and Liches raised their heads.
The Death Lords and the Death Lords turned their heads back at the same time.
In their throbbing Soulfire eyes, the fluttering Black Rose flags were reflected, but there was a trace of doubt in the depths of their eyes.
Where did this wind come from?
…
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