"Birus' third line of defense has been breached!"
"Sir Laval's battalion asks for support!"
"The enemy flying unit appears in the Sphinx Spire—"
"They are in the twelve o'clock direction!"
Veronica had a cold face.
The female army commander gestured to the heavy crossbowman from Yadi not far away. The officer saluted her and rushed to the top of the city fortress with the crossbowman in heavy armor.
The purple arc lights up the sky from time to time, flashing and passing away, but it is enough to illuminate the entire huge battlefield.
Bright spots of light rise and fall one after another, reflecting the light blue network behind it—that is a light curtain about ten kilometers wide—behind it, a behemoth that has completely risen from the ground is suspended in mid-air, and the surface is shining with metallic luster. It's like a hexahedral prism that stretches thousands of meters in length and breadth.
And that is the Tower of Tongtian.
Against the backdrop of this huge tower, the criss-crossed mountains of the Alcash region are just like pocket sand tables, and the human defense system is better like linear dust.
As for the human soldiers who rely on these fortresses to resist, they are almost invisible.
However, no matter how small they are, when they are large enough to cover the entire valley, they still dye the whole land—the undulating mountains are surrounded by the red position of the Cruz people on one side, and the purple ocean is rushing forward on the other side. The fangs are criss-crossed with each other.
Veronica was watching from a distance the heavy crossbowmen advancing up the walkway of the city wall.
At this distance, more than sixty crossbowmen are as small as a wriggling black line. Nightmare screamed down in the sky, and the crossbowman had to stop and erect the tower shield, and from time to time someone fell off the city wall.
Here, death is nothing more than an ordinary thing.
Veronica felt a little calm in her heart, as if life and death were no longer difficult to make her heart turbulent, this mechanical indifference enveloped everyone on the battlefield. She frowned and put one hand on her lower abdomen. The scaly armor was covered with eye-catching rose red. There was a mouth torn apart by six-inch fangs.
In just a moment, another lavender arc flashed across the sky—
With the criss-crossing mountains and the intricate valleys hidden underneath, the whole world is illuminated by purple.
But after a while, the world returned to darkness, and the hideous battlefield disappeared instantly.
The imperial elemental envoys on the spire of Omniknowledge are brewing to launch a counterattack, and the singing echoes in the night sky, and bright golden flame rings appear above the clouds.
There was a rain of fire in the sky, and the golden-red flame beams had long tail marks, like molten steel pouring from the clouds, and the sparks fell into the depths of the valley of Arkas. And before the flame fell to the ground, what was reflected was a dense sea of crystal clusters.
They are advancing in the sea of fire.
It is also trampling on death.
Although the crystal clusters have not yet penetrated the last few lines of defense.
But it's not far away.
In the history of Vaughan, defense has never been isolated in the wars surrounding the fortresses and fortresses, even the legendary fortresses built by the gods like the'Tower of the Sky'.
It's just that with the fall of the era above the clouds, the defense system built by those great beings has disappeared this morning, and the glorious history has become the past and is buried under the dust. Today it is only scarred.
Although the wind elves and Cruz people rebuilt this system.
But how can the poor craftsmanship of mortals be compared with the miracles created by the gods and people? Babel once had the reputation of never falling, but now, no one dares to boast.
The defenders all understand that this fortress can be used as their spiritual support, but in fact they don't have too many cards.
Veronica stood still, occasionally looking westward, and that direction was the position of the elves, and arrows were falling like a rain at the moment.
The powerful dominance of the Golden Elf Archer on the battlefield effectively restrained the advancement of the crystal cluster army, but a huge siege-level crystal cluster appeared in the sea of crystal clusters, and the floating purple began to advance again. The elves were forced to retreat, and the complete defense line also eroded little gaps.
The wind elves have transferred from the Four Realms the most elite guards of the Hurricane Legion and the Elf Court. The former is the old enemy of the Scarlet Legion for six centuries, and the latter is the commander’s guard handed down from the era of the sage— Their predecessor was the twenty-four wind knights.
But Lord Isdoville, the commander of the Wind Elf, the King of Lorrainedale, knew better that the power he had at his disposal was not abundant.
He had to mobilize half of the most important elf shooter to support the human allies, otherwise the remnants of the cruz army and the black army that had been saved from East Metz might have lost blood in this war.
This is a consideration on the battlefield, but more importantly, the elves value their promise.
Although the two have been mortal enemies several times in the past few centuries, the vows engraved on the stone slabs a thousand years ago also existed. Perhaps on this day the elves decide to choose such a place to fight and die, they will Trust the people behind you without hesitation.
Even if the opponent is from Cruz.
The battle has reached the fiercest stage. The stormy waves are not enough to describe the offensive of the crystal clusters. The human fortresses that are still standing at the forefront have fallen one by one, and the knight who has sent the order is reading aloud the troops that have not fallen yet. Name-but this list is getting shorter and shorter.
"Sir Markles and his Highland Infantry Battalion are asking for help, and Sir Spruen is still there, Quasi Swordmaster Wade and his battalion are retreating..."
Pieces of parchment were thrown into the aisle.
In the end, there was the last one left on his skinny hand.
At this moment, the third line of defense has collapsed.
But there is one last reef in the raging waves.
"Sir Vallar is still there!"
"Sir Vallar and they retreated into the Golden Falcon Fortress."
When it was the third time, the knight looked up in astonishment, and said in a trembled, "Sir Laval...Sir Laval and they are still there."
Many people were stunned.
In Varachi, there is a place called Sheti, and a brown river flows through this place.
On that fertile soil, there is a group of people who have fought against the mountain people for generations. They are descendants of the Cruz people, but they are not allowed in the mainstream society of the empire. The Seti people like to ridicule the imperial people's petty, because they are the descendants of warriors, and for decades, every Seti people have held a grudge against the Empire's betrayal of them.
The empire tolerates the mountain people, but forgets the Sheti people.
Count Laval is an authentic Settite. He is stubborn and old-fashioned. He is not tolerated by the upper class. What is even more annoying is that he is a so-called dissident. Simply put, he is Kang The diehard of Queen Stanley.
Such people are naturally unlovable there, not to mention that after the fall of Constance, if it were not for the fall of the empire, people like him were originally meant to deprive the nobility of their status-maybe they would have to go to the gallows.
Duke Ludwig once ridiculed this person's ignorance, and the nobles who suffered losses in the East Metz War were even more angry, and publicly declared that these farmers from Sheti were a bunch of barbarians.
However, the Sheti people were brave and good at fighting, and the history of this area was rich in the best archers and light infantry of the entire empire.
In the middle of the battlefield—
When the crystal cluster climbed up the outer wall, the Sheti people retreated into Wengcheng; the crystal cluster broke the Wengcheng, and the Sheti people defended the inner wall; after even the inner city wall changed hands, the Sheti people retreated into the spire.
There are few of them, but the minaret still stands.
Like a fang pierced into a purple ocean.
Duke Ludwig approached the battlements subconsciously, "What are you still doing? Go and rescue them!" His veins bulged, like an angry lion, roaring at his knights.
A hand interrupted him, and Mangrove looked at the knight who had passed the order.
The knight’s voice was a little stiff: "Sir Laval and his soldiers ask for support..."
"What kind of support do they need?"
"My lord, see for yourself..."
A small figure climbed to the top of the spire, and a flag was raised on the top of the tower.
"It's Sir Laval!" someone exclaimed.
But more people watched the banner silently.
It was a brown flag with the shape of a piece of land. It was the land guarded by the Sheti people for generations, their homeland, the fertile field surrounded by brown rivers.
The brown white-bellied falcon represents the fearless spirit of the Sheti people, and the ears of rice contain the deepest hope of the land. Under the rice ears, the lion’s mouth holds a skylark, and the Sheti people are equally loyal and trustworthy.
It was a purple wave.
It is also a lonely banner.
Many people shed tears and regretted what they did in the past.
These farmers from Sheti have proved their loyalty and bravery to the empire, but the empire can no longer make up for its narrowness and prejudice, and perhaps this is the root cause of all the disintegration.
At this moment, Mangrove suddenly thought of the small border country in the south of the empire, the fearless monarch, and the sword he had taken away.
Duke Ludwig leaned weakly against the wall, silent.
"They, request the use of golden flame angels..." the commanding knight replied in a low voice.
"Target." Mangrove asked softly.
The legendary knight opened his mouth, but in fact everyone already had an answer.
Just like a king needs both a scepter and a sword to maintain his majesty, and the golden flame angel is Babel's sword that symbolizes justice and majesty. The golden light beams converge from bottom to top along the six-sided prism. They may have traveled several kilometers, but in fact, they have converged to a point in just a moment.
The sky seems to have been lit up, and the clouds are burning.
A fiery red light beam plunged into the dark mountains from top to bottom, and then dispersed into thousands of light beams, plowing through the sea of crystal clusters. With just one blow, tens of thousands of crystal clusters were wiped out.
The offensive of the entire purple ocean is stagnant.
But at the very center where the beam of light passed, only the charred remains of the towering minaret remained.
The flag turned into a bit of ashes and was scattered in the breeze before dawn.
Some aristocratic ladies actually covered their faces and lost their voices, and their mourning echoed on the city wall, but they couldn't suppress the sky-shaking fight.
The golden flame angel shouldn't be used at this time, but people know that only the bravest are worthy of a sword—the Sheti have proved their bravery. Mangrove patted the old man on the shoulder as he walked down the city, meaning to tell Duke Ludwig:
Many people will die here, but the living must continue to fight.
At the Spire of the Sphinx, a battle that hadn't been suspenseful is coming to an end, and mankind has no hope of winning.
The young officer from Adi stood on the wall and gave a knightly salute to his legion commander from a distance, with the kind of respect from the heart in his eyes, and then he jumped and fell down the cliff.
Countless nightmares are crawling up the city.
Veronica watched this scene blankly.
"It's time to retreat." Mephistopheles told her.
"I can't even remember his name, but I know that kid is a knight of the Knights of Folding Swords," she told Gray Sword Saint softly, "They are the best young people in the empire."
"I know them," Mephistopheles knew these former enemies: "It's worth admiring."
"Bring my horse, I'm going to see Isdoville."
With that, she turned around and left.
Mephistopheles grabbed her arm and shook her head: "Why bother, you know that there is no result, the elves also have difficulties, besides, you still have injuries."
"We might all die here, and this injury is nothing," Veronica replied softly, "Do you want me to give up? We can refund now, but there will always be no refund."
…
Aruta stared blankly at the mess left after the dispute...
The table was turned to the ground, the parchment paper and the map tube rolled to the ground, and the elf guards stood awkwardly at the door, moving forward and backward. The king of Lorrainedale, who was wearing a black fleece with a thin face, shook his head. He bent over and picked up the military map from the ground, his skinny palms as pale as a vampire.
The face of the elf lord can be described with a haggard. His deep-set eyes seem to contain a bright flame, but his lips are extremely thin, as if indifferent and unforgiving, yet extremely assertive.
Isdowell smiled bitterly again, shaking off the dust from the parchment in his hands. The fury of the female army commander left a deep impression on everyone present, but he just didn't expect that after so many years, she would still have sex with the little girl.
"Why didn't you agree to her?"
Aruta finally couldn't help but ask, although he was a little scared of the person in front of him, his anger and anger were indifferent.
"Why do you agree?" Isdowell looked at the young crown prince and asked rhetorically.
"Isn't this self-help... this time?"
"How can I save myself?" Isdoville asked, "Rely on Madara?"
"But Master Sage said..."
The King of Lorraindale raised his hand to signal him to stop speaking: "His Royal Highness, compared to the sages living in history, I know better than them what Saint Osor needs—well, this question is for you. It’s too complicated, maybe you should spend more time learning how to be a "elf" crown prince."
The guards outside the door looked at each other when they heard the words. But fortunately, maybe they were used to such a scene a long time ago, and they gave each other a look carefully, and the elven girls walked out calmly.
Maybe others can pretend that they didn't hear this sentence, but Yaruta can't.
He felt insulted.
He was just the son of a hunter, and he has been angry enough these days. The elves didn't put him and his sister in their eyes at all, and some people even ridiculed them as buns.
He removed the crown from his head and couldn't help saying loudly, "I know, you haven't seen us at all, but I didn't expect anything. If it weren't for the commission of Mr. Brando and Lord Sage, I wouldn't want to. Come here... You can take this crown if you want it, it doesn't belong to me in the first place."
With that, he threw the crown in his hand to the opponent.
Isdoville stopped suddenly, and did not reach out to take it, letting the crown fall to the ground with a thud.
A purple arc outside the hole window was crossing the sky, and the entire dark room was bright.
Aruta was taken aback. He looked at the rolling crown, and then he remembered that it was a symbol of elf kingship. He couldn't help being a little scared, and whispered: "I... I didn't mean it..."
The King of Lorrindale glanced at him, bent down, picked up the crown with both hands, "Don't let me hear that again." He said coldly.
"Then why do you have to keep us here!" Yaruta felt a tingling in his nose, and tears almost rolled in his eye sockets. He was really aggrieved and terrified: "Since you are unwilling, let us go back. My sister and I weren't elves either!"
"Because you don't understand its weight." Isdoville gently swept away the dust on the crown.
Then he raised the crown with both hands and put it on top of the young man's head.
Aruta was still in tears, and froze when he saw the other person approaching, but he saw the movements of Isdowell, but he was startled for a while.
"you-"
"I do know Saint Osor now better than Master Feng."
"But I have to admit that she knows better than me who is more suitable for this throne—"
Isdoville looked very serious: "The wind elves have long lacked an inclusive culture, so they cannot be included in the mainstream of civilization. Perhaps a human king is the opportunity to change everything. Staying alone is just a helpless choice, especially today. In fact, we all know that no one can face this enemy alone."
"In that case... Why didn't you agree?" Yaruta wiped away her tears, sniffing her nose and asked, "You clearly know that Madara is not behind Baishan... I'm sorry, I eavesdropped on your conversation."
Isdoville didn't care, and seriously corrected Aruta's words: "It's us, not you."
The elf lord looked out the window, with a thin face, the light reflected in the depths of his pupils—the dark clouds outside the window were drooping, and the empty knights of Cruz and Faenza in the sky also joined the fight. The battle was extremely anxious, and the light of magic Almost lit up the entire cloud.
"A thousand years ago, it was the same situation." He muttered to himself.
Turning around again: "His Royal Highness, have you ever understood the basis for the Wind Elf to stand up?"
Aruta shook her head blankly.
"It's because of pride." But Isdowell's tone was even more proud.
"pride?"
"For those people in this world who think they are superior to others, the wind elves will never accept their mercy."
He stretched out his hand to straighten Aruta's crown: "It didn't work in the past, so it won't be today either."
Aruta was stunned.
He felt as if he understood something, but he was not quite sure.
…