Chapter 637: Act 378 – The Valkyrie’s Charge (Part 2)
On the battlefield, the war flag of the White Lion began to move slowly once again.
At the very front leading the charge was Nemeses, the Lady Knight, holding the war flag in one hand and a longsword in the other, embodying the forefront of the White Lion army’s assault. When she engaged the Lesser Demons, they were often defeated in a single clash, with her sword cutting them down from the city walls.
This fierce combat style was something Freya witnessed for the first time, and she couldn’t help but feel amazed, as it bore striking similarities to Brendel’s swordsmanship. In that moment, Nemeses seemed to be the very incarnation of the White Lion, baring her fangs and claws to shred all her enemies, leading everyone forward.
Behind her, the soldiers of the White Lion army and the cadets from the Royal Knight Academy erupted with their fullest potential, and their attack finally became smooth as they stormed up the city wall.
“Minotaurs!”
The heart-wrenching shout echoed.
Freya also saw it; she flipped over the city walls and was shocked to find another wall behind it, filled with Minotaurs wielding massive axes. There were easily over a hundred. Before she could widen her eyes in disbelief, the soldiers charging ahead suddenly flew into the air.
Behind the Minotaurs, a group of women with snake hair, armed with longbows, appeared. They were Medusas. Although the girl from Buche had limited experience, she recognized these mythical beings.
“Ah…” Freya couldn’t help but gasp involuntarily.
It was a trap.
Everyone suddenly realized this. Nemeses’ face turned deadly pale, and Freya could even see the color drain from the Lady Knight’s hand gripping the flag, which began to tremble slightly.
“Don’t look over there, let’s keep moving.”
She shouted with great difficulty.
But a rain of arrows had already descended upon the battlements. This was the shooting of the Medusas; the ghostly green arrows could penetrate any armor, and the soldiers in the front turned to stone before they had a chance to struggle.
After one volley, one-third of the forefront soldiers had fallen. The Medusas, quick to react, began to nock arrows again.
…
The war flag of the White Lion suddenly vanished.
Marquis Baltar witnessed this scene with his own eyes—he saw the White Lion flag fall and disappear in the rain. A sense of despair washed over him, and he suddenly felt a bit dazed, with only one voice echoing in his mind:
Erluin had lost its last chance.
“Marquis!”
A raging beast charged over the city walls, brushing past Baltar. The marquis momentarily lost his focus, and his longsword was yanked away by the beast. He reacted instinctively, turning around to see a horned monster, one of the demons, leap in front of him.
What a terrible aura.
That was the last thought of Baltar. The horned demon mercilessly grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, with power that far surpassed that of the marquis, leaving him no chance to resist.
“Marquis!”
“Commander!”
As the soldiers of the White Lion army screamed, Baltar completed the last journey of his life. In that moment, he imagined seeing a light in the darkness, a tall and familiar figure standing at the other end, just like on the battlefield back then.
The Marshal.
The horned demon effortlessly snapped the neck of the Marquis of Erluin, the commander of the White Lion army, and tossed his lifeless body aside. Then, it stepped on the Erluin flag atop the city walls.
It disdainfully looked down at all the human soldiers within the city; to it, these soldiers were no more than garbage, inferior creatures worse than the lowest beings in hell. Had it not been for the portal still unable to transfer more elite troops, this place should have been obliterated ten times over already.
Dealing with these pests bored it.
Nonetheless, in any case, this damned garrison had finally fallen—
The garrison of Bu Noan was breached.
Wood watched the flag disappear in the rain through the crystal ball, finally realizing the impending doom. Erluin would fall because of this, and his path would end here. No one knew better than him what this event meant for the Temple of Fire.
He could almost imagine losing everything he had. But more importantly, the Temple of Fire would be shamed by this; the old man couldn’t help but cover his face and let out a deep sigh.
It was all his fault.
“Prepare to retreat; let those nobles have their wishes. I’m sure they’ll regret this.” This once-prominent High Priest, at this moment, couldn’t help but answer with some exasperation.
“Please wait a moment, High Priest.” Yula, who was sitting beside him, suddenly spoke up.
“Hmm?”
Everyone turned to look at the blind girl.
…
A long spear appeared in Freya’s line of sight, and the arcs of lightning danced upon the spearhead as it darted toward a Minotaur. The spear thrust forward, piercing the monster’s chest, and blood gushed forth as the girl with a long ponytail withdrew her spear, making the beast crash to the ground.
She looked at her with curious golden eyes and extended her hand, “You are… Freya?”
“I am.” Freya recognized the girl: “You are Xi?”
The girl smiled slightly, revealing her adorable fangs: “Mm.”
“Have you seen Medisa, Freya?”
Freya shook her head, one hand clutching her shoulder wound, looking around in panic. Soon she spotted Nemeses lying amongst the ruins.
“Senior!”
Her heart tightened, and she rushed over. The black-haired lady knight lay with her eyes tightly shut and breath faint, an arrow lodged in her chest—but even so, her hand still tightly gripped the flag of the White Lion army.
It seemed hearing Freya’s call, Nemeses opened her eyes with great difficulty, her beautiful eyes narrowing as she stared at Freya. “Freya, listen well…”
“Senior…”
“Hold this war flag… you are the commander now.”
“How can that be…”
Has it already failed?
Freya looked at the stern face that appeared serious due to its long-held indifference, yet she always felt that Nemeses’ care for her was more like that of a relative, or rather, like an older sister; she had no sister and no older brothers, thus she cherished this relationship even more.
Nemeses smiled faintly, though the smile was more pained than happy.
“Go, Freya.”
“But you?”
“I am not dead yet…” Nemeses’ smile turned more tragic than tears, “Hurry, this is an order, you idiot. I believe in you…”
Why do you believe in me? Freya couldn’t understand why Nemeses and Brendel always believed in her unconditionally. She clearly couldn’t do anything and struggled to learn; compared to others, she was as clumsy as an ugly duckling.
Everyone had fallen—Senior, Carlo, Enlock, and Mikko. Only Brensen and Kargris were still holding out in their final resistance. She turned to look at the scattered battles near Medao Village; without leadership, defeat seemed imminent.
What else could she do?
But it seemed Nemeses saw through the girl’s confusion and offered her a faint smile, mouthing a sentence to her. Freya didn’t catch its meaning, but the mercenary Xi understood.
“Because you are the Valkyrie, silly child.”
“Because this is my request, Freya, alright?” Nemeses weakly asked.
Those words made the girl from Buche clench her fists. Across the battlefield, the soldiers of the White Lion army began to retreat.
But Freya turned back, “Xi.”
The girl with the long ponytail looked at her in confusion.
“Can you help me?”
Xi did not respond. She understood Brendel’s trust in this girl; having followed Brendel the longest, he would not hesitate to share his thoughts on the people and matters around him. The girl found satisfaction in such a life, merely listening quietly.
Then she nodded.
“Thank you.” Freya took the flag of the White Lion army, inhaling deeply. Although her anxiety hadn’t faded, she cast one last look at Nemeses.
She leaned the lady knight against the wall and answered earnestly, “Senior, I will make this flag shine on the battlefield as long as I am alive.”
“Erluin will not fall—”
…
The death of Marquis Baltar was like the final toll for the garrison of Bu Noan; in that moment, the entire battlefield seemed to collapse. Yet in every corner of the city, the officers of the White Lion army continued to hold firm in their last fight.
“Owen, do you remember that book called The Summer of Wisteria?”
A young officer from the White Lion, clad in silver-gray armor, stood dazed in the pouring rain as if still reeling from their defeat. Baltar had died, and the White Lion army seemed to have truly reached an end amidst a series of failures.
Countless demons rushed toward the city walls with an air of despair.
“We’ve lost, Charlotte; don’t even mention that book of yours.”
“Yes, I think so too, Owen. So let’s order the soldiers to open the south gate of the garrison and retreat from there, how about that?”
Owen suddenly turned his head, glaring blood-red at his companion: “You’re crazy!” He yelled through gritted teeth, “We absolutely cannot retreat; our comrades are still ahead!”
Charlotte smiled lightly.
“Then remember to buy me that book, the one with the golden-edged cover, the collector’s edition released in the Year of the Crescent Moon—you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go pick up the flag, Owen.”
Minutes later, the south gate of the garrison of Bu Noan was thrown open.
The remaining soldiers of the White Lion army began to retreat. The demon commander—the horned demon at once noticed this; it could not allow those humans who had caused it such great trouble to escape.
It let out a long howl and the demonic army surged toward the south gate, leading the way to crush those pests.
But as it charged down the city walls, weaving through a few alleys, it arrived beneath the only square in the city. Here, it saw humans ready for battle—not just the guards of the White Lion army but also ragged men and even children.
The horned demon suddenly sensed something was off.
Sherlock stood among the crowd, raising his longsword mockingly:
“I know you’re listening—fire at me, Victory!”
…
“Fire at me, Victory!”
The distorted voice coming from the crystal ball still did not conceal the determination within. The communicating mage paused for a moment before turning to look at the Count behind him.
Dressed in a long coat, his face a bit pale and marked by fatigue, Earl Yanilasu kept his eyes closed. He rubbed his forehead as if making a monumental decision before responding:
“The demon commander is there—fire at him.”
“But my lord.”
“All responsibility falls on me.” The count replied flatly.
If someone dared to gamble with their life, what was there to fear in sacrificing one’s own reputation?
The earth trembled as dazzling golden light filled the garrison of Bu Noan like a sea of fire. Owen could only watch as the lower-ranking demons scattered in the blaze, watching as his comrades turned to ash in the explosions, tears streaming from his eyes.
He righted the corpse of Marquis Baltar and raised that battered flag of Erluin high.
That action seemed almost sacred.
…
Two flags reappeared on the battlefield.
They were a glimmer of hope earned through the blood of countless, shining like radiant conviction, stirring the hearts of everyone present. Even on the Victory, the naval officers of Erluin couldn’t help closing their eyes.
High Priest Wood silently observed this scene.
Although Yula could not see, she could hear the ecstatic cheers echoing from outside. She wasn’t from Erluin, but a smile still graced her face.
“Come on, Erluin.”
However, on the frontlines of the battle near Medao Village, Kargris, who was on the offensive, suddenly halted.
What was happening?
He and all the young soldiers from Toniger felt a strange sensation; it wasn’t just them. Soon, the entire White Lion army sensed a tremor coming from deep within their hearts.
Before them stood the unstoppable Minotaurs. The White Lion army was in full retreat; under the dual onslaught of the Medusas and the cavern lizard archers, they had effectively lost most of their earlier gains.
All seemed on the verge of crumbling into nothing.
But a flag caught their sight, one that seemed not to be made of fabric but forged of gold. The flag billowed in the heavy rain, the white lion upon it coming to life.
It was Freya.
The Lady Knight held the flag aloft in one hand, the Lionheart Sword in the other, stepping forward against the terrifying monsters from Jotungrund.
In that moment, Xi stood by her side, and the White Lion army was right behind her.
On her left was the mountaineer, on her right the white lion.
As she advanced, she was unstoppable.
At that moment, history seemed to be rewritten.
The scenes from seven centuries ago echoed, reappearing anew after seven centuries.
Only their enemies had changed from Crusian to demon. The subtle coincidences of history seemed to make the air tremble slightly, and everyone felt this intensifying pulse of destiny.
Freya raised her longsword.
“White Lion army, heed my command, charge forward.”
“Even if we die, we shall perish on the path of attack.”
“Perhaps one day, the White Lion will be reborn from the ashes rather than extinguished forever.”
The voice of the lady knight clearly cut through the downpour; her promise was like a vow, reminiscent of the pledge made by the late Emperor Eke before the Lionheart Sword. In that moment, a miracle occurred, and the cadets of the Royal Knight Academy were astonished to see the armor of the White Lion army begin to glow.
Then a faint golden light seemed to descend from the heavens, encircling every soldier of the White Lion army, ultimately forming a golden emblem.
If Brendel were there, he might recognize this as the last mark on the White Lion armor.
It was also the source of the legendary capabilities of the White Lion army that neither he nor Master Berun had been able to decipher—
The Lion’s Mark, bestowing bravery upon its wearers. Armies donning this mark would no longer fear, forever maintaining high morale without succumbing to panic in any situation.
The spirit of the lion seemed to be revived.
Kargris looked up and suddenly felt that the gaze that had been watching this place so intently had vanished. It was as if the ancient kings had departed, but Erluin had a new successor.
All surviving soldiers of the White Lion army roared and charged at the countless Minotaurs. In that moment, fear and hesitation transformed into the driving force to overcome everything.
Though they might ultimately perish, the tales of Erluin and the White Lion would endure.
They would never be forgotten.
Unfortunately, the Minotaurs from Jotungrund were not creatures of thought; otherwise, they would have trembled at facing such a determined army that had cast everything aside. But against these fearless humans, all they could do was raise their giant axes.
They might not fully understand why, despite the impending doom, these humans could accept their fate with such calmness. For creatures arising from the dark depths, survival was the only glory.
Behind the Minotaurs, the Medusas also raised their bows.
The two armies clashed in a thunderous collision.
Courage, honor, or merely a desire to survive mixed together at that moment, indistinguishable. Humans achieved a tense stalemate with the Minotaurs at great cost, but the price was staggering losses.
Freya charged at the forefront, her sword resolute as if it could break through any barrier—
Xi looked at the Lady Knight’s silhouette with admiration, but her stirring was not from that fearless courage, but from an indomitable belief. It was the first time she knew someone could be so resolute, able to fight alone without relying on anyone else.
That was a quality that moved her, one she had thought only noble lords possessed.
But it turned out a girl could do it too.
That moment, Freya’s figure became like a profound memory, just a fleeting instant, yet deeply engraved in Xi’s heart.
Suddenly she found herself willingly wielding her spear, clearing a path alongside her.
…
“Can we win?”
“Probably not.”
Wood spoke briefly with the cunning fox Makarolo and Overwell. This high priest of the Crusian stood tall, as a servant quickly draped a robe over him.
“High Priest?”
“The people of Erluin are fighting for their fate; to be frank, I too must gamble for my own fate and faith.” Wood sighed and responded, “Just standing by here fills me with shame, and brings shame to the King of Flames.”
“But my lord, the demons must have a trump card; if you act now…”
“Now is not the time to consider that.”
Wood answered calmly.
At that moment, the door of the ship’s cabin was suddenly flung open. Everyone couldn’t help but frown. Were the people below already so panic-stricken that they’d forgotten basic etiquette?
They turned back to see the somewhat unusual expression on the face of Count Violet Balt.
“They’re coming!”
“Who?”
Xi pierced a Minotaur and suddenly turned her head back. She yanked Freya forward, slightly furrowing her pretty brow.
“Xi?”
“Something is coming.”
The ground began to tremble slightly, and soon, everyone felt this subtle change. The soldiers of the White Lion army in the back were the first to turn around.
There was still a long time before dawn.
But on the southern horizon appeared a sliver of silver light.
It was no dawn.
It was a line of undulating silver armor. Countless cavalry were thundering across the hills, raising their banners, roaring like an ocean while singing songs from the era of the Saint’s War.
“Cavalry!?”
“Whose cavalry is this?”
“How can there still be such an army in the south?”
Freya furrowed her brow slightly as she saw a banner leading the army forward, singing those songs she had never heard before, as if it belonged to an army from mythology.
“Once more, the horn shall sound; may the tribes not forget the sacred covenant.”
“Though dark wings obscure the sky, the silver dawn shall rise.”
“Ancient oaths ring out across the land, armor renewed, longswords still ringing.”
“The saints have come as heralds; battle flames ignite once more.”
On that battle flag, a pure silver sacred lily emblem shone almost blindingly.
Silver Elves.
They had returned to this land once again.
…
(PS: Volume 3 ends here, … I suddenly feel it has been long.) (To be continued. If you like this work, please cast your recommendation or monthly votes on qidian.com; your support is my greatest motivation.)
