Chapter 743: Act 100 – Eternity I
In the moment of the dragon’s roar, the lofty mountains trembled. The Minren said that the shadow of the dragon swept across the plains, and the wind from its wings could blow for a day and a night. Alorze spread its wings, yet miles away, the gusts ravaged the forests. The triangular flags on the halfling’s spear in the icy plains rattled fiercely in the wind, waving threateningly, but the darkness gripping their souls was boundless fear.
“Dragon!” Someone screamed, and the neatly organized lines scattered across the snowy plains. Kuwo, seeing that he could no longer control his troops, had no choice but to flee northwest with his escort knights. In the blink of an eye, Alorze had already flown above these insignificant beings. It lowered its head, casting a massive shadow over the hundreds of soldiers. Its golden eyes reflected the scattering Minren, and out of sheer interest, it first targeted a small group to the south—about twenty or thirty halflings on dwarf ponies fleeing toward the crystal forest on the hillside. But Alorze would not give them this chance and directly lowered its head to unleash a breath of golden flames.
A giant fireball descended from the sky, landing on the glacier, instantly engulfing the fleeing halflings and turning them to ashes. The flames continued to burn on the solid ice, even making the ice crackle, layer upon layer melting to reveal the black volcanic rock beneath. Those rocks, having melted hundreds of years ago, turned to lava once more within the flame, with white steam rising up to dozens of meters in the air.
The searing flames seemed to pluck the strings of excitement in the young female dragon’s heart. It let out a sharp cry, flapping its wings to soar high, spitting flames that acted like a golden sword plowing through the glacier, burning deep into the forest and transforming that ice crystal woodland into towering pillars of fire. But this was not yet over; its golden gaze then locked onto another group, but this time it didn’t intend to continue breathing fire. Even a dragon could not endlessly spew flames; that was merely the folly of mortals in tales. Alorze shot up like an arrow, then dove toward the halfling team, sweeping over their heads, sending a fierce wind that slashed through them like a blade, scattering the halflings. Some knights were even ripped from their saddles by the immense pressure of the wind, crashing onto the hard ice, rolling for dozens of meters before coming to a stop, their skulls shattered.
Alorze looked at these unfortunate creatures with increasing delight, as if all the pent-up frustration from before had been released. It let out a chorus of giggles in mid-air, but to outsiders, it sounded like deafening thunder. The young female dragon circled in the sky, landing heavily on the glacier. It extended its sharp claws to grip the ice, stabilizing itself, the enormous impact sending ice shards flying, leaving more than a dozen deep claw marks spanning several meters on the ice surface.
With a turn, Alorze swiped its tail to send the halfling cavalry at the front soaring through the air. It turned to block the path of these small creatures, extending its claws to slap a reckless rider into the air. Its sharp claws were like four finely crafted steel swords made by dwarves; a gentle stroke tore open the knight’s belly, and then Alorze lowered its head to swallow the halfling along with his pony in one bite.
Dragons are not embodiments of justice in any legend—
Those halflings of Enhor under Duke Anlek seemed to finally realize their escape was hopeless and took up their spears to charge in anger. Although they appeared weak as children before the dragon, these halflings were no innocent lambs; they were Duke Anlek’s private troops—veterans seasoned by war, responsible for the deaths of soldiers and civilians alike. Once in battle, they became desperate mongrels, though even the undead are not necessarily brave enough to confront a dragon.
Alorze regarded these tiny beings with boredom, unable to suppress a yawn. It casually severed a few of the thrown spears and then lifted its claws, squashing the approaching halfling cavalry one by one as if playing whack-a-mole. By the time it struck the seventh one, the halflings finally broke down, fleeing in panic, crying out in fear.
When Kuwo turned to look, he happened to witness this scene. Those were his kin, and his heart ached like being cut by a knife. He knew they would not escape; the dragon was merely a cat playing with mice. The wind howled in his ears as he gripped the reins tightly, leaning low over his pony’s back. The scenery around him flew by on both sides, but he did not intend to retreat into the forest; instead, he continued to retreat north across the snowy plains. The previous two troops had been targeted by that horrible dragon precisely because they rushed into the forest. The dragon was a clever creature, and while most people remembered only their savage nature, Kuwo knew better. That was why he led his escort knights to escape this calamity.
He no longer expected to survive this battle, but he was determined to first find the Temple of the Slumberer before he died, to at least imprint that frost dragon. That was the last thing he could do for Duke Anlek. But it was not that simple. This large-eared halfling turned to see a glimmer of silver light flickering on the horizon.
On horseback, a determined maiden was commanding over a hundred knights chasing forward along the glacier. The Valkyrie was clad in Erluin knight armor, two capes flowing behind her like wings. After experiencing the dragon and the spirit warhorse, the Crusian knights finally begrudgingly accepted this maiden as their temporary commander. It was not merely about Freya’s leadership skills, but battlefield prowess could dictate many things; the military revered strength, and it was an ancient truth that only the strong could lead.
The knights of the Broken Sword Order rode shimmering warhorses, sweeping across the icefield like a rolling wave of snow. Unlike the halflings’ dwarf ponies, these spirit warhorses did not sink into the snow, seemingly gliding upon the surface, with incredible speed. Freya organized the knights into tiers, forming a diagonal line from left to right, commanding them to storm into the forest and then advance northward along the western side of the snowy plain, quickly catching up to the first fleeing halfling cavalry.
“Roji—! The others continue forward; do not slow down!” the maiden shouted, her voice amplified through the strength of her silver step, echoing across the battlefield.
Freya was calling out the name of a somewhat emaciated female knight who frowned at the mention. The knight even looked up to glance ahead but did not respond. Being commanded by an Erluin made her feel quite uncomfortable, but as a military person, her instinct of obedience took over, and she boldly drew her sword, shouting, “Tenth squad, prepare to charge!” The knights behind her responded in unison, the sound of drawing swords ringing out like a chorus. The Crusian knights raised their long swords high, the gleaming blades reflecting a shimmering line across the snowy plains.
From above, looking down upon the snowy field, a diagonal black line surged forward, swallowing a scattered fleeing team into its left flank. The tenth squad of Crusian knights slowed down, but the other nine squads continued to press forward. Freya leaned over her horse, glancing nervously behind her, but was generally satisfied with the unfolding events—the knights of the Broken Sword Order exhibited exceptionally high tactical prowess, almost perfectly executing her strategy.
Freya seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief. She lifted her head, the future Valkyrie’s grace shining brightly in this moment, her eyes sparkling. She drew her sword and pointed forward, resolutely commanding, “Third, fourth, and fifth squads break east, second, sixth, and seventh squads execute free attacks, eighth and ninth squads take care of the rear!”
“Everyone else, follow me!”
Under Freya’s command, the battlefield quickly changed. The Crusian knights suddenly scattered like a pack of wolves, heading toward their targets, subtly forming a pincer move—although the enemies they aimed to encircle were several times their number—yet a dragon was also in pursuit of these halflings, and no one harbored a shred of fear. Moreover, they were proud Crusian elites; how could they bow to the country bumpkins from Erluin? Even without Alorze on the battlefield, they could still charge fiercely toward the halfling cavalry.
Freya’s tactics almost immediately showed results. The halflings under Anlek faced imminent disaster; the Crusian knights were far more purposeful than the playful Alorze. They executed what was essentially a wolf pack strategy, driving their prey forward in small, organized teams while constantly eliminating those who fell behind. If any halfling cavalry attempted to break free from the net, the Crusian knights of the eighth and ninth squads would immediately stifle any hope they had.
The battlefield was littered with bodies. Some halflings, seeing no hope of escape, had no choice but to turn back and launch a desperate final charge. They were all fierce mountain men, but unfortunately, their opponents were among the most outstanding of the Crusian academia. While their battlefield experience might have been somewhat lacking, their overall strength was sufficient to offset any gaps.
Almost all the Crusian knights had gained achievements. From the second squad to the tenth squad, they quickly became embroiled in fierce combat, but only Freya continued to advance. She had locked her sights on the distant group fleeing ahead; she did not know it was Kuwo and his escort knights, but she was certain that opponent was an excellent commander. Freya had been mindful of that group since Alorze entered the battlefield; that commander’s every choice had seemed nearly perfect.
They had not made a single mistake.
Kuwo was fleeing desperately along the edge of the glacier to the north, and the dwarf ponies thrived in such terrain. Wild dwarf ponies had grown in the fierce winds of the plateau, often crossing icy gaps between valleys to forage further fields, seemingly having an inborn instinct for finding cracks in the glacier. In contrast, while Freya’s spirit warhorses could glide over the ice’s surface, they could not really fly; sometimes, a break in the ice would cost everyone their lives, which forced the future Valkyrie to proceed cautiously.
The two were in a game of chase, and in the blink of an eye, a distance of one or two miles vanished. Undulating ridges appeared on the icy plain. Freya frowned, feeling anxious; the further they advanced, the closer they got to the zone where magic communication was disrupted. However, both she and Kuwo were feeling the same pressure. While looking back, Kuwo saw those knights’ warhorses seemed to need no rest, while his and his escort knights’ mounts were already overwhelmed.
The outcome had to be decided in a short time.
The thought flashed through both their minds almost simultaneously.
Freya gritted her teeth, tightening the reins, but Brendel beside her could no longer contain himself. Although he had long abandoned any prejudice against the commander, it was hard to stand out in a battle like this. Yet Freya had maintained the required decisiveness of a commander throughout and had not made a mistake up to this point. This indicated she was at least calm and analytical enough—qualities that every excellent commander must possess. Yet like Freya, Brendel realized that if they continued the chase, their mission would likely end in failure.
“We need to find a way to corner them,” he shouted intermittently against the wind.
Freya paused slightly, then nodded. That was indeed her own thought, but with the ever-changing terrain of the icy plain, determining the right choice was a problem.
“Xiao Peiluo, we should head that way!” Brendel called back to someone beside him. Freya recognized the young man, an outstanding graduate of the Saint Eberton—this frail young man might not be suitable for a soldier, but his graduation results were said to be enough to make all his peers envious.
Freya, also from academia, understood what that meant.
But Xiao Peiluo shook his head, “The terrain of the snowy plains is too complex; luck plays a significant role. If you want me to be honest, I can only say that I can’t judge at all. We can only gamble on luck and see if Lady Martha favors us.”
As he spoke, he shrugged against the wind.
Everyone’s hearts sank, knowing this was no excuse. “Knight Nemeses,” Brendel turned his head to the other side, aware of this knight beside the Erluin princess. Compared to Freya, Nemeses was already renowned as the best graduate in the first batch of the Royal Knight Academy: “What do you think?”
But Nemeses, unfazed, stood like a spear in the wind and snow, replying calmly, “Follow the commander’s orders.”
Brendel fell silent.
But all eyes turned to Freya. This girl from the countryside of Buche was momentarily taken aback, gripping the reins instinctively. She bit her lip, yet did not voice any refusal.
She raised her head and glanced to the northeast—
… (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please feel welcome to support it with votes on Qidian (qidian.com), as your support is my greatest motivation.)
