Chapter 567: Act 315 – Oath and Sword IV
The beams of light shimmered in the rain, making the raindrops appear as if they were pure gold as they passed through.
Everyone looked up, their heads raised, hoping to catch a glimpse of sunlight through the heavy clouds above. A crack opened in the darkness, and pure white light descended like wings from behind the clouds, gently caressing the crowns of the people.
Rays of light pierced through the clouds, falling upon the harbor.
Reldor Duluso stood by the window, this old soldier seemed to pour all his life’s strength into his stance, standing tall and straight.
His hands were clenched tightly into fists.
The ancient king walked upon the clouds, silently observing, but the later generations could only respond with words left unspoken. Did the nobles of Erluin still remember the oath engraved upon their longswords?
They could not answer.
“Lord Knight,” Marquis Baltar fidgeted, feeling the same agitation within his heart, but what he feared even more was that this old knight might suddenly change his mind. Although he was the commander of the White Lion army, in terms of authority and the ability to rally troops, it was undoubtedly this aging imperial lion.
The old man slowly turned around, his expression resolute, only the depths of his dull gray eyes held a glimmer of light, as if nurturing a determination. He raised his head and slowly said, “Baltar, the White Lion army has lost its banner in heart for a long, long time, but because of this, we cannot lose the honor of being soldiers any further—”
“To this day, if the former king were to demand that answer from us, we have long strayed from that glorious path; we can only respond with the last dignity of this kingdom’s army to Your Majesty — the White Lion army, to death we shall go.”
The White Lion army, to death we shall go.
Marquis Baltar froze in place, watching the tall figure of the old knight. Outside the window, amidst the storm, lightning flickered in the distance. Yet, how many times had he himself been young and reckless, holding onto principles and ideals, only to have power struggles and court intrigues wear them all away? Even he himself was unclear about what he had lost for all of it.
At that moment, he suddenly saw that youth, holding a spear, galloping on high ground with banners flying, the spear glistening, and the war cries echoing – it turned out he had once been so close to his ideals.
That was the history of Erluin.
The marquis felt his eyes moisten, and bending deeply, he bowed to his teacher. It was at this moment that he finally understood, he had completed the last lesson of knighthood.
Persistence.
“The Crusians also had their glory,” a voice quietly said, “but we learned to compromise. Ideals and reality do not always coexist harmoniously; a heart steadfast in freedom is indeed admirable, but those who achieve it through self-sacrifice are equally worthy of respect.”
The owner of the voice bowed slightly to Reldor Duluso.
The old man shook his head, eyes reddened, and choked, “Wood, the people of Erluin are bleeding.”
“I understand, I understand,” the former high priest of Ampere Seale in the room could not help but close his eyelids slightly, his expression somewhat moved. He sighed heavily, “Eke established a kingdom filled with heroes, I am sorry…”
At that moment, a servant in priestly robes suddenly burst through the door, panicking as they shouted, “High Priest, the resonance is too intense, we are losing control!”
Wood seemed to not hear, only gazing out the window at Ampere Seale, the kingdom he knew, the people he understood, still had some fighting in them, even at the last moment.
But regardless of right or wrong, at least they still had courage; compared to those cowering in the dark, trembling cowards, at least someone was still battling against fate.
But one day, when Cruz also sees the sun set and the empire’s glory fades, what kind of scene would that be?
“High Priest?”
“Do your best; they—no… he will notice,” Wood replied without turning his head, recalling the young man he had seen that day, shaking his head. “But regardless of right or wrong, some things we must do.”
“As for the outcome…”
“Let history decide—”
……
The light falling through the clouds seemed like a giant hand, an immense pressure pinning everyone to the ground.
It was concluding!
Karlen stood in the torrential rain, clutching his longsword, wanting nothing more than to cry out loud, perhaps he had already shed tears, but the tears merged with the rain. When he saw that golden light seemingly part the rain curtain and fall upon the army opposite, at that moment he understood that no matter the outcome, this was the White Lion army’s final performance for the kingdom.
That person had personally handed the battle flag to this army, placed the crown upon their heads, and given them glory. Yet today, he was to stand opposed to them, demanding their surrender.
Never!
Karlen lifted his head defiantly, like a stubborn child, his gaze seemed to pierce through the heavy clouds, seeing that final moment.
“But a child must eventually grow into an adult, my liege…”
“Perhaps this is our answer.”
He gritted his teeth, tears had long since burst forth, “To the brethren of the White Lion army, my brothers! The claws of the White Lion once shone upon the heights, we once defended the territory for the kingdom,” the young commander’s voice roared in the wind and rain, “but whenever! Wherever! Do we not remember the White Lion’s creed!”
“The White Lion army, to death we shall go!”
“The White Lion army, to death we shall go!” Many soldiers wept; they suddenly realized what they were about to face, what they had once yearned for and once insisted upon, yet now stood on the opposite side. It seemed they were engaged in a battle they would inevitably lose, yet the soldiers still struggled to raise their swords.
This was a choice.
Because that was where their honor lay.
It was the courage of the White Lion.
Today anyone who fights alongside me shall be my brother for all time, until the end. Karlen raised his sword with tremendous effort, almost trembling as he shouted the two words: “Charge!”
In the midst of the light, an overwhelming pressure held everyone immobile.
But the kingdom’s White Lion army was advancing, seemingly crawling forward, slowly, every face bearing the last resolve and courage as they charged at Brendel’s resurrected White Lion Guard.
Slow as a snail, but unyielding.
Carglis looked up and happened to witness this scene. They had experienced the wolf disasters, endured the trials of the Black Forest, received Brendel’s teachings, learned the most systematic elven sword art, and inherited the oldest White Lion battle tactics, dressed in the finest White Lion armor.
They were proud because they were born with such pride; they thought they represented the most glorious history of this kingdom, believing they could conquer all.
But until today, they truly understood what the soul of an army was.
Everyone watched this scene, watching Karlen and his soldiers launching the slowest charge in history, yet they were not met with mockery, but rather the serious expressions of their opponents.
“Former king,” Carglis looked up, raising his hands high as he shouted, “let us have a fair duel.”
“Right or wrong does not matter.”
“Only because of mutual respect!”
In an instant, the light faded. Yet Carglis and his companions’ White Lion armor shimmered with an additional layer of brilliant gold, that gold light slowly converging, forming golden runes inscribed upon the armor. If Brendel were here, he would immediately recognize that this was the White Lion armor, modified by the late king Eke.
The historical set of White Lion armor.
This was the noble soul’s recognition of the righteous, until this very moment, Carglis finally understood they had truly gained the White Lion’s acknowledgment.
He too lifted his sword, needing no command—indeed, at the precise moment the light and pressure dissipated, the two armies, transcending history and the present, clashed as they crossed a mere ten meters.
This was the most direct dialogue between past and present, the most direct clash between two armies.
The swords of the kingdom’s White Lion army struck Carglis’s group’s White Lion armor, yet could not effectively penetrate its magical protections. The outer layer of the White Lion armor only shimmered with a faint golden ripple, and the kingdom’s soldiers’ longswords were repelled.
The White Lion armor was designed by Brendel based on Maximilian’s armor; its thickness did not exceed three millimeters, yet its equivalent protection value reached six, almost comparable to a double-layered hinged plate armor exceeding five millimeters thick. This kind of armor had never existed on Earth, and even in Vaunte, a swordsman at the peak of the black iron tier would find their mobility greatly restricted wearing it.
In fact, very few fourth-tier or lower infantry armies wore such heavy armor in battle; it was often the choice of cavalry.
Moreover, the White Lion armor had defense beyond just the armor itself; as it was magic armor, the wind-based protective spells surrounding it provided an additional five points of magical protection, making it difficult even for the average soldier of the White Lion army with peak black iron strength to penetrate.
Unless they too used enchanted weapons, but since the royal forces had waned, the plight of the White Lion army had similarly diminished. In the past, the White Lion army indeed had a glorious period where everyone was equipped with magical armor and enchanted swords. But to this day, only a few elite forces in the army could possess magical armor.
As for enchanted weapons, that was out of the question. Due to the size and material of weapons, they were often harder to enchant than armor, thus more precious. Erluin, including the royal knights, still lacked an army that could afford enchanted weapons.
Even more to the point, the Fourth Division of the White Lion army under Karlen was not considered an elite division. Among the more than two hundred men, only a few possessed magical swords, most of which were personal property.
In fact, when Karlen swung his sword at Carglis’s shoulder armor, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. The sword in his hand was also a family heirloom, though it was merely a faintly glowing magical sword, yet at least it was something akin to an enchanted weapon. But when he swung it down, it merely left a deep gash on the opponent’s armor.
Of course, he was unaware that the armor of several officers in Carglis’s White Lion Guard was specially fortified; he merely assumed everyone was like that, and for a moment felt a cold dread. Here he was, a silver initial-tier swordsman, striking with all his might yet unable to penetrate the opponent’s defenses; if he felt that way, how could the others fare?
But both Karlen and Carglis were equally shocked.
Without engaging the opponent, one would not know the fierceness of the White Lion army’s veterans. To say his strength had actually reached a mid-silver level after the experiences in the Black Forest, learning the white crow sword art that far surpassed the opponent, yet this simple military swordsmanship nearly caught him off guard.
It was just a matter of speed; the opposing party seemed to have predicted his intention, swiftly cutting off his attack path with a strike to his neck. Had it not been for the White Lion armor being stronger than he imagined, he surely would have been done for by now.
In that moment, Carglis felt the pain of Buja, the White Knight Alberon, and Brendel clashing.
For a time, Carglis could not help but sweat profusely.
And now, it wasn’t just him sweating. All the young men from Toniger were increasingly astonished. Although on the surface they still held the advantage—the kingdom’s White Lion army had suffered continuous losses from the beginning, yet their side hadn’t even seen a light injury.
But everyone knew this wasn’t their merit. Rather, it was the armor crafted by their lord that was too monstrous; in fact, they had been consistently pressed by the veterans of the opponent’s White Lion army, barely maintaining their stance, while the veterans of the White Lion army would strike at them multiple times, and their armor would sustain no issues; yet when they struck back with their lion swords, it often resulted in severe injuries or deaths for the other side.
The veterans of the kingdom’s White Lion army had no flashy battle techniques; they relied solely on the limited acceleration capabilities of their ‘imperfect’ White Lion armor to seize fleeting moments to attack, leaving Carglis’s group in chaos each time.
Yet the more Carglis fought on, the more astonished he became, while Karlen felt increasingly disheartened.
Regardless of how much advantage they held, victory would forever elude them.
Moreover, their opponents were not a rabble; Karlen could tell; Carglis’s group resembled those new recruits on the battlefield, lacking only experience.
But they were growing increasingly mature, their counterattacks and defenses becoming steadier, and in contrast, they had become the teachers of the White Lion army—teaching them how to kill themselves.
Karlen could not help but painfully close his eyes.
Carglis could no longer hold back; he was not a fool. Continuing on like this—let alone what they would learn—he feared the morale of the lord’s White Lion Guard would be completely ground down. Though pride and hubris have often led to demise, an army cannot be without its own pride.
He couldn’t help but glance with admiration at the White Lion veterans battling with such effort.
Simultaneously, he issued the command: “White Lion army, abandon defense, full-on attack!” He nearly shouted this sentence; it sounded somewhat ridiculous. Their clumsy defense was utterly ineffective against the opponent, and it would be more straightforward to let the White Lion armor handle the protection and go all out to break through the enemy.
Though this order sounded somewhat nonsensical, it was the best solution Carglis could think of.
And it was indeed the most effective.
Once the young men from Toniger abandoned defense, they instantly felt less flustered. They seemed to return to the vast Black Forest; their opponents still were those terrifying monsters. They no longer needed to be misled; they only needed to muster all their courage to rush forward, just like that day.
That would be enough.
Carglis and his White Lion Guard let out a collective roar, raising their lion swords to begin their charge forward. At that moment, the training they had undergone in the Black Forest began to yield results, and their fine blades swung toward the enemy before them—
At that moment.
Karlen understood—the failure that was so close at hand had arrived.
That sword was dazzlingly brilliant.
The dense air blades unleashed by the white crow sword art converged together, breaking through the rain curtain like a wave, creating a hazy white mist that made one realize—why it was named White Crow.
Because it resembled a flock of gray-white birds soaring in flight.
They passed through the throng.
Blood poured down like rain.
Karlen almost cried out in anguish, not understanding why he had come here; their enemies should have been the Crusians. Yet he led his subordinates to this place, causing them to lose their lives and all their glory.
Yet in this last moment, the entire Fourth Division of the kingdom’s White Lion army erupted with the greatest courage. They no longer retreated or defended but mingled completely with Carglis’s soldiers, and the battlefield could hardly be called skirmishing; the soldiers of the kingdom’s White Lion army were merely seeking to die.
Even Carglis could not bear to witness it.
“Enough!”
“Stop—!” he roared in the heavy rain, like a lion that had lost its temper: “Everyone, stop!”
In truth, it was not necessary for him to command; the young men from Toniger had already begun to cease fighting one after another. Then the soldiers of the kingdom’s White Lion army also halted, many of them had been turned into bloody figures, yet they still gasped for breath, staring closely at their enemies, grips tight around their weapons.
The street was bathed in crimson.
Both sides stood upon this street, a moment of silence passing between them.
“I don’t know who you are,” Carglis panted in the rain, his voice echoing, “Commander of the opposition, but I hope you make way for us… this slaughter should not continue any longer.”
“The White Lion army will never retreat, not even to the last man,” Karlen replied, looking at the heavily armored commander of the ‘White Lion army’ opposite him, who also panted heavily, weary and disheartened, yet still steadfast.
Carglis took a deep breath.
“This is not retreat,” he closed his eyes, “But must the kingdom’s White Lion army press forward against the Erluin people? Is this your only form of glory? Why have you come here? Answer me! Just to vie for power and profit?”
“No, this should not be what the White Lion army seeks!”
“Is this what you aspire to?”
“When you joined under this illustrious name, when you pledged allegiance to that banner, is this what you sought?”
“Open your eyes and see properly!” Carglis nearly shouted, his fists clenched tightly: “Look at your war banner; it is already stained red with blood! Look at this harbor; it has already run rampant with blood!”
“But it is the blood of the Erluin people…”
“Listen to that roaring sound, the sound of the kingdom’s dying moan—haven’t you heard it?”
“Is this what you swore to protect? This vast territory, where you wager your lives to defend everything sworn to ancient glory.”
He stared at them, enunciating each word.
“We are killing our own kingdom.”
“So please, make way… will you?”
With a clatter, Karlen’s sword fell to the ground. He saw, he saw the bloodied banner Carglis pointed to, the white lion, stained with the blood of the Erluin people.
Was that truly what they sought?
In the storm, this knight of the White Lion army knelt upon the ground, weeping aloud.
……(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please consider supporting it on Qidian (qidian.com) with recommendations or monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
