The sunlight reflected off the ivory white Lionheart Street of Ampere Seale. This street was built in the Year of the Dead Moon (Chaos. 1437). The Archbishop of Ampere Seale, Charlemagne, wrote the following: "The long street shines like snow, like a holy staircase leading to the clouds."
Four hundred and sixty-five years ago, the White Lion Legion had once been inspected by King Erik on this very street. Today, however, they had once again appeared on this land.
Their spears shone and their armor was as white as snow.
"The enemy is here."
Sir Franz stood at the temporary position and looked at the rows of silver spears appearing on the horizon at the other end of Lionheart Street. The corners of his mouth drooped slightly and a cold light flashed in his eyes.
If the enemy is the White Lion Legion, why should I? Cullen's failure was still in front of him. He slowly raised his right hand and clasped his fingers together.
However, Cullen was just a piece of trash.
The White Lion Legion's motto was, "Do not rest until death." However, no matter who the enemy was, the legion would lose. Whether it was true or false, the sword would reveal itself. This was a sharp blade stained with blood. Praises were not empty words. Sir Franz looked up at the battle flag of the White Lion Legion. This was a fortress built with the blood of the enemy and his own.
However, young people would never understand. He never thought that there would be an army in the kingdom that could defeat the White Lion Legion today. Other legions could not, not even the White Lion Guards of the past. Denying today was a betrayal of history. Sir Franz would never forget his comrades who died in the November War.
Their blood would not be spilled in vain.
Today, he would use swords and longbows to prove all of this. From today onwards, the White Lion Legion would stand on this land forever. Their flag would never fade because of this. How could the fate of today's people be bound by history?
Not everyone had to live a heavy life for the sake of carrying yesterday's ideals. Just existing was a kind of pride.
History was based on strength.
"Ready —"
A command with a thick accent from the Northern Highlands came in the wind.
Behind Sir Franz, the light infantrymen of the White Lion Legion took a step forward like a grey-white human wall. They raised their longbows one by one, and the iron horns on the bows shone under the sunlight, forming a swaying, flashing belt of light.
The commander narrowed his eyes and estimated the distance.
The archers of the Whitelion Legion held their breaths and adjusted their heartbeats to synchronize their hands and eyes.
The commanding officer finally nodded.
"One hundred steps away, no wind …"
"One hundred steps away, no wind …"
Sir Franz raised his hand high, as if it were a flag, and waved it violently before him.
"Release!"
Buzz —
The air seemed to have been sucked out, and the bowstring seemed to be vibrating at an extremely low frequency. The three hundred White Lion Legion archers released their arrows at the same time. Then, they slowly turned their bodies and pulled out another arrow from the quiver on their backs.
In an instant.
Arrows flew through the sky like locusts.
Wang Li Knight Academy's young non-commissioned officer's eyes followed the arrow as it flew higher, the orderly cavalry formation producing ripples like water ripples. Brando looked on coldly from the sidelines. Having experienced many wars, he knew that perhaps in every war, a concentrated volley of longbows was not the method of attack that caused the most casualties, but it was a huge test of the quality of the army.
Erouine had many examples that when faced with concentrated long-range attacks, the morale of a low-quality army would plummet. This was because people would always instinctively seek to escape from a predicament. Timidity and eagerness would tear apart the formation, and even lead to disarray.
But war was a process of overcoming instincts.
"Maintain the speed!"
"Maintain the speed!"
Mok, Bretton, and even Loca shouted at the top of their lungs. The non-commissioned officers steered their horses and raised their small shields.
Kan Meyr took a light breath on the back of his horse. His grayish-brown eyes stared at the arrows that were flying higher and higher in the sky, and his head was raised higher and higher.
Although they had experienced a few battles before, this was the first time they were thrown into a real battle. There were no tactical requirements for the battle between the two sides, and it was a competition of pure fighting spirit.
Their opponents were no longer the weak Coast Guards. Instead, they were the Kingdom's Whitelion Legion, who wore greyish-white armor. They looked solemn and moved in unison.
The most elite warriors of the kingdom —
"Swoosh —"
The rain of arrows was already upon them. All the Knight on horseback leaned back slightly, and the arrows clanged as they fell from their bodies. The arrows were slightly deformed before they even got close to them. A layer of invisible golden light extended in the direction of the arrows. When the arrows broke through the halo and hit everyone, they had already lost most of their strength.
"It's magic!"
"It's the Conflict Halo … There's a Templar Knight in the enemy camp!" The Whitelion Legion shouted.
The moment Meyr was hit by an arrow, his mind went blank. But when he shook his head and looked up, he saw that amidst the rain of arrows, the infantry regiment in white armor at the front of the army was separating from the main group.
They were withstanding the countless arrows.
They were attracting the enemy's firepower …
Kan Meyr swallowed a mouthful of saliva. Suddenly, he felt that his throat was a little dry.
Brando held his longsword and fixed his gaze on the northern nobles. He was waiting for an opportunity, and the opportunity was right in front of him.
He finally raised his sword and roared as if he was using all his strength.
"Whitelion Legion, listen to my command. Crush all your enemies!"
"You were born with glory, so spread your wings and embrace the victory that belongs to you —"
"No matter who the enemy is, the legion will win!"
The Halran Gaia was pointed to the sky like a flag flying in the wind. The Whitelion Legion roared in unison. This roar shook the heavens and the earth, causing the faces of their enemies to change color.
In just a dozen seconds, the longbowmen of the Whitelion Legion had already shot four rounds of arrows. The flying arrows were like a storm that swept through every inch of land within a hundred meters. Although the Whitelion Legion was not good at long-range attacks, that was only relatively speaking.
It was meaningless.
Sir Franz looked at the holy white army in shock. The Whitelion Legion was advancing courageously in the rain of arrows.
All the firepower was focused on them, but to no avail. Even the sharpest arrows could not get within a foot of their bodies. A layer of pale green light naturally bounced off the arrows.
The archers switched to hunting arrows and armor-piercing arrows, but none of them were effective.
On the contrary, the enemy was gradually accelerating.
They were faster than galloping horses.
Sir Franz's body was cold. He had seen Cruz's Broken Sword Legion on the plateau and Saint-ausol's Stag Guards in the November War. The army in front of him made him feel as if he had returned to that nightmarish era.
Less than one in ten survived.
The blood that flowed from the war seemed to have dyed his vision red.
"Let the Mages attack!" Sir Franz almost gritted his teeth as he shouted. His forehead was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat.
"Sir, the Mages are still behind!"
Sir Franz led the Whitelion Legion's Jude Legion's First Swordsman Legion. The purpose of this light infantry regiment was to take a detour to the back of the princess's party and cut off their escape route.
He led a column of archers and a column of light infantry to their destination first. They did not even have time to rest before they got into formation. He originally thought that five hundred people would be more than enough to stop two hundred people from the enemy.
But now, he only felt regret. He had underestimated the enemy. Sir Franz closed his eyes. "Quick, let the Great Knight Nicoloma come and help. Let the Holy Cathedral come and help!"
"Damn it, why is there a Templar Knight in the enemy's camp?! Those damn Cruz people, they are going back on their words … "
He turned around.
But they had to stop the enemy, even if it meant that they had to pay a price.
"Archers, back off and change to longswords! Whitelion Infantry, forward — "
Behind the archers, spears appeared like a forest.
But it was too late. The Whitelion Legion had already reached the front of the camp.
This army, which seemed to have walked out of a legend, was about to spread their wings and embrace their victory. The green lines that encircled their armor seemed to have come to life. They circled around each other and stretched out to both sides.
In an instant, a pair of green wings with a wingspan of nearly ten meters appeared on the backs of the Whitelion Legion's warriors.
"Ah!"
The infantrymen of the Whitelion Legion who had just raised their spears were dumbfounded when they saw their enemies suddenly leave the ground. It was not flying, but it was even more terrifying than flying. They leapt high into the air and crossed a distance of nearly twenty meters in a single leap, arriving above the Whitelion Legion's camp in an instant.
"Isn't this the Wind Elves' tactic?" When Sir Franz raised his head, his mind was blank.
This was the last thought in his life.
In the air, spears rained down like rain. One of the spears had unparalleled power, piercing through his heart before he could even react. Even at the moment of his death, the leader of the Whitelion Legion's First Swordsman Legion still had a look of shock on his face.
Shock.
Unwillingness.
There was also disbelief.
The Whitelion Legion left behind a sea of corpses as they retreated. However, they were not retreating. Instead, they were forming an encirclement. The lower ranked officers took over Sir Franz's command. Although their morale was greatly reduced, they still had to complete the legion's final mission.
The Whitelion Legion would not rest until they were dead.
Carglise was also troubled by this scene. The Whitelion Legion may not be the strongest army in the kingdom, but it was definitely the most difficult to deal with. The Whitelion Legion's glory supported them and they would not retreat. However, they only had one chance. They could not let the enemy entangle them.
More than three Swordsman Legions of the Whitelion Legion were surrounding them. If they were a second late, it would be the difference between heaven and hell.
When he and his Knight landed on the ground, they immediately made the same decision — to advance. They had to break through the enemy's camp and open up a path for the Knight Legionnaires behind them.
The young men from Tónigel did not care about anything else. However, they were facing an equally fearless opponent. Their powerful swordsmanship could only cause waves of blood in the crowd. However, this was not enough. It was far from enough.
Carglise unsheathed the Blade of the Lion and roared with bloodshot eyes, "Push them away! Even if you have to run into them, you have to open up a path for me! Listen up! You can only move forward, no retreat! "
"Ahhh!" Everyone's eyes were bloodshot.
The White Lion Legion had completely given up on defense, only advancing and not retreating in the sea of people. Although the White Lion Legion's attacks were unable to cause any damage to them, the soldiers who had no hesitation clung onto their arms and legs one after another, preventing them from moving forward.
Carglise single-handedly took on the attacks of more than ten people. Even though it was just a short fight, he felt like he had reached his limit. He was panting heavily, and the white steam he exhaled condensed under the mask of his helmet. The Whitelion Legion also began to suffer casualties. Finally, someone was pinned down by the Whitelion Legion and pierced to the ground with a sword.
However, this did not come without a price.
The Whitelion Legion's First Swordsman Regiment finally began to weaken.
Kan Meyr suddenly heard cheers. He looked around and saw that the cavalry formation was spreading out to the sides, forming a thinner and wider charging formation.
It's about to start, he suddenly thought. As expected, the two flanking squads of Knight were speeding up. They raised their flags high and took the lead.
Meyr recognized the Knight. It was the female Silver Elf Knight and the red-haired Miss Devil. The Highlanders believed that red-haired people had the blood of the Devil in them, and Kan Meyr was no exception. Moreover, Scarlet's fighting style was not elegant. Mercenaries were known for their ferocity in battle.
Next were Count Yanbao's three Knights. Meyr could not help but linger on the female Knight. Following closely behind were Braggs' Bretton, Senior Loca, and the cold-faced Moke.
Under their leadership, the cavalry formed a crescent shape, and gradually increased in speed, from a trot, to a gallop, where they kept their mounts.
The ground began to tremble and rumble like thunder.
Meyr heard someone shouting in his ears. "Speed up! Speed up! "
"We have entered the enemy's best shooting range!"
"Don't stop if you don't want to die!"
"Cavalry, speed up! Maintain formation!"
Before Meyr could react, he felt someone bump into him. He turned around and saw a black figure brushing past him. He looked up and saw a black cloak fluttering in the wind.
As well as the pitch-black, broad blade that was raised high in the air.
The Halran Gaia.
It was the 'Commander'.
That was how the officers addressed him. Meyr could not help but widen his eyes. Was he going to join the charge as well? In their impression, Brando was a strategist commander, not a Knight in the vanguard.
But just as he opened his mouth in surprise, he saw another slender figure walking side by side with the commander. It was Sir Oberwei. The Lone Wolf's name had long been known throughout the kingdom. The old minister of the kingdom, Oberwei, was actually going to charge side by side with him?
What kind of glory was this?
But who was the one honoring who?
Before Meyr could make a sound, one Knight after another had passed him to Brando's side. First was the Knight of the Mercenaries of Lopes. These experienced mercenaries clustered around their leader, making Brando look like a hunting king.
Brando quickly used practical actions to answer the doubts in Meyr's heart.
The Kingdom's First Swordsman Legion's formation was finally loosening.
The opportunity had come.
Brando retracted his gaze. On his left were Oberwei and Maynild, and on his right were The Shire, the Nightsong Tiger, Andrique, and Mephistopheles.
These people were his companions.
So-called companions.
They were all like-minded people.
He knew that some of these people had gone through thick and thin with him in this world, and some of them had fought side by side with him in another history. But at this moment, the two histories seemed to overlap.
It was close at hand, no matter how one looked at it. The wind whistled past his ear, and there seemed to be a sound in the wind. It was the sound of a Karsuk flute.
The sound of the flute floated above the battlefield.
That year, the enemy they faced was the endless army of Madara. Just like now, right in front of them, the Knight put on their helmets, told each other to take care, and was about to launch the final charge against the enemy.
What awaited them were countless cold, emotionless deaths that leaped like phosphorescence.
At that moment, history and reality overlapped.
Then, it was time to charge.
He raised his sword and took the lead. His cloak fluttered, like a black flame. Bucce, Fortress Riedon, Madara. Everything was left behind, and in front of him was an endless future.
History had changed.
The cavalry roared behind him, forming three unstoppable arrows. Their names were the Royal Knight Academy's students. Their names were the Kingdom's White Lion Guards. Their names were Erouine's young future.
On the battlefield, when the huge trident pierced the White Lion Legion's formation, this supposedly indestructible legion finally collapsed.
The cavalry howled, and the long sound of the horn was like a large hand that swept across the battlefield, carrying everyone's victory forward and forward.
A hole was broken in the encirclement of the White Lion Legion.
This hole finally tore apart the darkest corner of Erouine's history. When the Great Knight Nicoloma arrived with reinforcements, he saw a corner of the White Lion Legion collapsing with a pale face. This was a scene he had never seen in his life.
Then, he saw a black flame sweep out from the defeated soldiers.
Under the flame, it was the young man's steel-like eyes and the sharp blade in his hand. Head Knight Nicoloma unsheathed his long sword. What a Holy Knight. A circle of yellow light began to spread out from his body.
He was also a Templar Knight.
Meyr saw with his own eyes that their commander crossed paths with the Knight of the Holy Cathedral. He did not even have time to warn him. That was a Templar Knight of the Holy Cathedral. He even recognized him as Nicoloma, the Great Knight of Ampere Seale, one of the few Gold-ranked experts of the Holy Cathedral.
But all Kan- Meyr saw was a continuous shadow, and the head of the Great Knight flew high into the air.
"Ah …"
He could not even make a sound. All the students of the Royal Knight Academy were completely stunned at this moment. What kind of swordsmanship was that? It could not be described in the words of mortals.
The first swordsman regiment of the White Lion Legion collapsed.
The battlefield seemed to have formed a whirlpool of death. The men of the Great Knight Nicoloma were also swept into this whirlpool and were crushed in an instant.
However, Brando was still moving forward. The young cavalry swept past the flank of the Third Swordsman Regiment of the White Lion Legion, and then swept past the Fourth Swordsman Regiment that had just arrived. Kang En died in battle, and Owen was seriously injured.
The morale was high.
Ampere Seale's North Gate Barracks.
Balta looked at the report in his hand with a pale face. All the information on it told him only one thing: the princess and her subordinates of the Royal Knight Academy had broken out of the encirclement.
He raised his head stiffly.
Archbishop Wood's face was gloomy. "The growth of the young people is far beyond our expectations. It seems that we have to let the old guys take action."
Leider nodded, turned, and pushed the door open.
…
(PS: My cousin gave birth to a baby yesterday. She went to visit her today and only rushed back in the afternoon to write this chapter. Hehe, I can't believe I'm an uncle too.) If you like this work, you are welcome to come to qidian.com to vote for me. Your support is my biggest motivation.)
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