Chapter 474: Act 223 – Twilight or Dawn
The Red Banner Cavalry shattered in the forest, their crimson tail flags crashing down with a thunderous noise.
Beside Parsons, there was a silence; this experienced general’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the sword hilt—these were indeed the mercenaries from Lubis, who had endured this long.
The old knight closed his eyes, weariness etched deeply in the wrinkles of his face. Sir Wade was a young man he held in high regard, but war allowed no room for regret; Erluin had already shed too much blood. When he opened his eyes again, all that remained in his dim gaze was a cold persistence.
Since the rebels had revealed their trump card, the outcome was already decided.
“Let the knights of Rendener charge forth, to add bold strokes to your glory.” He waved his hand, as if transferring the fate of the battle entirely to those young men.
A chorus of cheers erupted from all the knights of Rendener, the silver-tier warriors raised their voices in unison.
Yet such cheers did not stir the slightest joy in Parsons.
Because Erluin had already fallen asleep, much like himself. The old man’s gaze pierced through the twilight of the sky, as if he could already see the thick darkness. Once upon a time, even victory could not bring shades of hope; all he saw was merely the color of blood.
What had gone wrong?
“The knights are on the move.” A cold voice reached Yuta’s ears. The female mercenary band leader turned around and saw Medisa’s unchanging expression; the small fairy girl’s serious demeanor was, nonetheless, rather cute, exuding a hint of the elven royalty and generality.
Yuta nodded.
Victory and defeat were hanging by a thread, even she could tell. However, she could not yet see the opportunity for victory; the earlier battle had depleted her energy significantly, and even before this elven princess, she struggled to maintain her composure, slightly gasping for breath.
Like this defensive line, it was evident to everyone that it was on the verge of collapse.
But Yuta couldn’t help but look at Medisa in confusion. She wondered what kind of elven pride or unnamed confidence allowed this little girl to remain so composed in such circumstances.
But where did her confidence come from?
This female mercenary band leader panted lightly, for the first time disregarding the anxious glances from her ‘allies’ behind her, and sincerely asked, “How should we respond?”
A sense of feminine pride compelled her not to back down; she wanted to see where this general-like confidence of Medisa stemmed from. How could a mere child understand everything on the battlefield? Did this elven girl truly comprehend what she was facing?
Yuta had her doubts—
But Medisa was very clear.
“Sound the horn,” she said.
Yuta stared at the elven princess in disbelief; even though she was clad in silver armor, at this moment, she still looked like a child-like general.
“What about Madara?”
The horn was a signal to mobilize the troglodytes, but the troglodytes held back Madara’s final strength. This was no secret; both sides on the battlefield understood this well. It was the final reserve of both forces, and whoever deployed their reserves first would lose the war.
Medisa glanced at her, and with a nonchalant gesture, picked up the spear beside her, answering, “Prepare my horse; I will lead them personally.”
“I…” Yuta suddenly found herself at a loss for words; she grabbed Medisa’s shoulder. “My people cannot go with you to die…”
“And you?” Medisa tilted her head in question.
“I…” Yuta took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll accompany you, little sister.”
Medisa smiled.
When the long horn sounded through the forest, it resembled an ancient ballad, and both sides at war seemed to sense a vastness coming from the ancient wilderness.
The dragon horn resonated, and Parsons suddenly felt time reverse, returning to the days of armed conflict. On the battlefield of the holy war, only blood for blood remained, with no former allies in sight; it was a war devoid of glory, yet one marked by the medals of old soldiers.
He licked his parched lips.
“It’s the troglodytes.”
“The troglodytes have appeared.”
“Are they really going to fight to the death?”
“These rebels… truly respectable enemies.”
“Where on earth did they come from?”
Yes, where did these people come from? The old knight felt a wave of confusion; they were certainly not ordinary rebels; these were the finest warriors of Erluin. But why had the excellent people of Erluin been shedding their own blood for so long? The old knight suddenly felt the urge to meet that young man named Brendel.
He couldn’t help but think, perhaps one day, the people of Erluin could reunite. But who would be the one to bring this about? Was it the dukes of the north, or the isolated princess?
Parsons felt that he might not live to see that day; he closed his eyes, as if wishing to find the traces of his predecessor, Eke, in his dreams.
“My lord?” The surrounding knights hesitated to ask.
“Notify Madara.” Parsons, with his eyes closed, answered wearily. The knight nodded and stepped back, but just then, a sudden cheer erupted from the forest.
“What’s happening?”
Parsons squinted as he looked over. His guards turned back simultaneously. The cheers came from the direction of the mage camp, where those eccentric individuals seemed to be celebrating something.
The old knight frowned in displeasure.
“It seems the wizards have discovered that much of the forest constructed by the enemy isn’t real, and a significant part of it is an illusion. They had been looking for a way to resolve this illusion and have just now found a solution,” a messenger replied immediately.
Parsons let out a soft hmph. The thirty-member mage corps had barely made an impact in the previous battle, causing him to lose many of his capable young men; although those robed individuals had explained that this was because they had been contending against a powerful wizard from the enemy camp, much stronger than themselves, the old knight had always considered this mere excuses; wasn’t a wizard greater than them a golden-tier wizard? How could such talents exist among the rebels?
Indeed, those eccentric individuals were not trustworthy; he couldn’t help but think. However, at this moment, the enemy was still doing legitimate business. Though there was a suspicion of sharing the credit, he didn’t find it appropriate to say much, merely nodding to indicate he understood.
However, unexpectedly, the wizards acted quickly, and soon a chanting voice echoed through the forest. Following that, a massive wave of magical energy made even the ordinary soldiers in the forest stand on end.
The magical fluctuations perceptible even to ordinary people naturally did not escape the eyes of true magical professionals. In fact, as soon as the wizards on the Rendener side cast their spells, Charles sensed the movement across from them. Yet this young mage attendant, glancing at the apprentice who had come to consult him, simply shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it; let them dismantle it.”
“Let them dismantle?” The apprentice looked puzzled.
“Of course, that thing was meant to be frightening; since the war has come this far, what purpose does it serve? Those fools enjoy wasting magic; let them go ahead. What kind of intellect do you need to lose your mind alongside those idiots?” Charles showed an expression of disappointment, poking the apprentice’s forehead. “In a battle of wizards, one must use their brains, understand?”
The apprentice felt like he was being scolded, quickly nodding in agreement. In fact, as a mentor, Charles was absolutely not the best choice; at least in the patience department, this young mage attendant was no better than his own master.
He looked at the long-robed wizards and apprentices below, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t remind you, conserve your magical energy for the final battle. I brought you here not to let you perish here.”
“Of course,” Charles shrugged. “If one insists on being foolish, then I can do nothing about it.”
No sooner had he said this than a much louder cheer erupted from the forest. Everyone turned to look across the River Gris. This time, the cheer came from all the ordinary soldiers of Rendener, Parsons, the Mysterious Bears’ territory, and the Grus, even the mountain folk were cheering.
Because the illusion of the forest was dissolving.
This was good news for everyone in the Rendener army; it seemed to herald the arrival of ultimate victory. Their enemies had lost their last line of defense.
Tagus and his black knight guards stood like shadows in the forest, their bloodline’s unique golden pupils flashing with indifference, as if the outcome of this war—or perhaps the war itself—had nothing to do with them. Behind them was a legion of undead, silent as an iron wall because they did not need to breathe.
The one-eyed general’s gaze fell on the heavily armored troglodyte army.
“Troglodyte assault squad,” he said, lowering his iron gauntlet and turning around. “This is the human’s trump card. Let’s go; I want a Madara-style victory—for His Majesty the Emperor!”
The black knights unsheathed their shining curved swords, responding in a deep voice, “By the will of the Mercury Staff.”
But just at that moment, a horn sounded through the forest again.
A long, lingering sound echoing between the trees.
Tagus stopped.
It seemed he was straining to listen.
“It’s the advance signal.”
They actually dared to attack? Parsons felt his mouth suddenly clamped shut, and all the Rendener soldiers, who were cheering, fell silent. For behind the dissolving forest, they saw something that should not have belonged there.
“All troops, attention! An unfamiliar army has appeared on the left flank!”
“The enemy does not respond to signals; it could be foes!”
The messenger’s shouts echoed in succession.
…
As Brendel parted the layers of branches in front of him, what he saw was just this scene. A row of elf archers mounted on flying steeds also emerged from both sides. He turned back and glanced at Quinelle.
“Where do you suppose their chieftain is?”
“You humans probably call it a general, right? I think it’s on that hill.”
“I say this to blend in with the locals.” Brendel looked at the tree spirit leader in surprise.
“We don’t have a concept of a chieftain. What you described is of the orc…” Quinelle couldn’t help but bare her teeth.
“Close enough,” Brendel shrugged, gazing at the undulating forest and the River Gris that was nearly stained red. “But I don’t think Parsons is foolish enough to expose himself in such an obvious place; that’s likely the position of a knight lord under his command, hmm…”
He pondered for a moment. “But it’s about right; for a surprise, I think it’s adequate.”
Brendel turned his head again. “Scouts, have you cleared the enemy’s sentries?”
“They’ve been cleared,” a centaur immediately replied, “but my lord…”
“But?”
“We discovered a hunter’s cabin…”
“A hunter’s cabin?”
…
