Chapter 230 80. Foreshadowing of the Ending
“A large warband like this is not held together by training or discipline, it is a clumsy weapon wielded tenuously by the opposing war leader. If the leader dies, the army They will kill each other like a bunch of mad dogs." Newkel said, pointing to the enemy forces on the sand table.
The powerful people next to him, headed by Darkus and Night Governor Draka, all nodded in approval when they heard Newkel's words, because this is the fact. This kind of war gang with a fragile structure needs to keep advancing and killing. Continuously obtain loot. If the offensive advancement is frustrated, these madmen controlled by the power of chaos will turn their eyes to the side and chop their axes on their former companions. They are killing anyway. If I can't kill the enemy, why can't I kill you? Isn't it?
"But it's a pity that the black blade wasted this precious opportunity. The night attack he commanded sent precious troops into his sister's ambush circle." Nukel sighed, then looked at Draka Night Governor and said , "In a moment, you will lead Hagrid Grave's mobile troops to rush in from the northwest! Krakalond's troops will rush in from the southeast. You are looking for opportunities to weaken the enemy's peripheral forces, but if you hear the order to return reinforcements, Return as soon as possible!"
"You mean that after Nagalia sees the troops in the walled city attacking, she will launch a reverse attack? For example, use teleportation magic or other methods to directly target the Witch King's hands?" Della Kayado nodded, raised his right hand symbolizing the Witch King's fist and said, his voice echoed throughout the entire tent along with the roar of steam.
"After analysis by the Witch King, I believe that these Chaos warbands are just tools for Nagaria to achieve her goals, a consumable. She is not responsible for destroying Grond and letting Nagaroth burn in blood and fire. The purpose." Nukel turned his gaze to Darkus as he said this.
"What if they don't come?" A fear lord from Krakalond suddenly asked. After asking, he seemed to have thought of something. He felt that he had asked a very stupid question, and suddenly laughed out loud.
This is the first day of the Battle of Grond. Nagalia has already withdrawn her troops. She has not surrounded Grond, nor is there any siege. She has not attacked Grond and the outside of the city at the same time. It would have been great if this was the case. Druchi's army could kill her, but they didn't.
At this time, the Chaos Warband's troops were concentrated in the northeast corner of Grond, which was the farthest place from the walled city outside Grond. The walled city was located high in the southwest corner of Grond.
"The only thing waiting for her is defeat! Unless she can break in from the northeast corner of Grond!" Newkel did not get angry because of this powerful man's stupidity. A sinister smile leaked out of his gentle and elegant face. Said sympathetically.
Newkel initially had the idea of directly organizing the battle, but Darkus persuaded him to adopt a steady approach. He did not agree at first, but asked Darkus to ask Malekith if he agreed. As a result, the battle was cancelled. Now, it has become this stupid battle that uses the city defense system to consume the enemy.
If you give up, you will get something, and Darkus also received a disguised grounding. As a result, he was temporarily unable to participate in the battle. He called it to learn the command experience of large-scale battles from Nukel's side.
——Marus
dreamed that he was back in the forest near Hal Gansey, walking through the dense woods under the light of the double moon. Something seemed to be following him, and he could hear heavy footsteps behind him and the crackling of branches as he forced his way through the woods. His armor and weapons were gone, and thorns tore through his face and Kaitan. Blood trickled down his skin, but he felt no pain. He felt nothing but pure, mortal fear that no matter how hard he ran, the thing seemed to catch up to him.
As if it were some kind of omen of fate, it kept approaching Malus and began to entangle him.
The heavy footsteps came closer, as if Malus's pursuer was a giant, each step spanning hundreds of meters. He suppressed a cry of fear and ran harder, branches and thorns piercing his skin deeper and deeper. He longed to find spite, but it was nowhere to be found. He couldn't hear anything from the beating of his heartbeat and the steady footsteps of his pursuer. It sounded like the pursuer was now a few meters behind him. The skin on the back of his neck began to tingle, but he didn't dare to look back for fear of someone. Something stretched out its claws towards him.
A moment later, Malus found himself standing next to a tree. The ancient trunk glowed softly in the moonlight, like a gift from the goddess. He suppressed a cry of relief and forced himself into the dark crevice in the trunk. As he straightened up in the darkness, a shower of insects and rotting wood splinters rained down on him, but he considered it a blessing from the gods.
The footsteps were getting closer, and Malus turned around, trying to avoid the moonlight coming in from outside. He could feel the ground shaking with every step his pursuer took. He held his breath and stared outside.
A shadow passed by, and Malus saw a pair of booted feet through the opening of the slit, only a meter away from his hiding place. He involuntarily took another step back, as if this would allow him to retreat deeper into the shadows and prevent his pursuers from seeing him.
"I know you are here, there is no use hiding. I can smell you." The boots moved to the left, then to the right, and a voice suddenly reached Malus's ears.
Malus shuddered at the sound.
"Are you in there? Yes! I think you are, why don't you come out to see me? Don't you like me?"
Malus, dominated by fear, could no longer control himself, and he let out a cry in his throat scream. He took another step back, as if he would become one with the tree trunk. He smelled the stench of rot and the wet stench of earthworms, and the tree trunks behind him bent slightly under his weight, like soft flesh.
Suddenly one hand reached out and hugged Malus, pressing it tightly on his mouth, while the other hand held his waist tightly. He smelled the stench of the tomb, and his lips touched the rotting flesh. Maggots squirmed on the wrist that held his mouth and squirmed and settled on his chest.
"My lord, don't be afraid. No one can own you, I'm here to protect you."
A familiar voice sounded in Malus's ears, and a cold breath, with the stench of rotting flesh, sprayed wetly on his cheeks .
Malus struggled and squirmed in Lunala's arms, but Lunala's dead limbs trapped him in a steely embrace. He could smell nothing now except the stench of rotting flesh and the bitter odor of grave earth. He tried to scream, to say Zarkhan's name. He would rather give his soul to Zarkhan's hunger than stay in Lunara's dirty arms for a moment longer!
But Lunara's cold hand was clamped over Malus' mouth, and he couldn't get enough air from the stench oozing from Lunara's rotting skin.
"I will protect your safety. No one will hurt you except me, sir!" The
cold and sticky tongue gently traced the side of Malus's neck. As Lunala said this, her breathing tightened. against his throat.
The next second, Lunala's teeth bit into Malus' skin.
(This paragraph is not a word count (it is!). This kind of dream is a manifestation of fear and avoidance, and it is also a kind of torture. It represents Druchi’s pain and torture, and it is also a foreshadowing of fate and ending.)
"Hey, what are you doing!" Julian looked at Malus who was going crazy in his sleep inexplicably. He suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Malus who was about to fall from the city wall.
Malus, who had woken up, looked at the edge of the city wall that was about to be empty under his feet, and then looked back at Julian who was holding him.
Julian looked at Malus's face in astonishment. It was a face that he could hardly recognize. Malus's face was even more haggard than he remembered before. The gray skin was tight between muscles and tiny On the white scars, pus flowed from the nose, ears and corners of the eyes, forming a fanatical mask of pain and hatred. "The enemy's third attack is coming soon." Julian pulled Malus back with force and immediately released his hand, looking at the haggard Malus with some caution. He could feel the pain in Malus, because he felt that pain too, and he opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he shook his head and said something about fighting.
Malekith issued no orders to Malus after declaring him champion. With no troops to command, not even his own retinue, it was as if he had been forgotten aside in the rush and chaos of the coming attack. He couldn't understand why he had that dream just now, and he couldn't understand what he was running from.
The Druchis on the city wall put their arms through the slightly broken shields at this time. Several Druchies still had flying axes embedded in their shields that could not be pulled out. Behind the battlements stood, resting and watching the waves of Chaos that were about to attack again.
But more Druch soldiers looked at Malus with resentment and hostility. They had heard more or less about Malus's deeds. Some stared at Julian, seeming to question why Julian held Malus just now and why he didn't let him fall.
Grond's soldiers had heard of Malus' previous disastrous battles and blamed him for the loss of their companions and their Dreadlord. But this is not the worst, because there are not many Grond soldiers on this section of the city wall.
Soldiers from Naggarond and Karondkar knew the story of Malus. They all believed that Malus was the darkest villain. They didn't care whether a scum like Malus was the Witch King's champion or not. If Julian hadn't been there, they would have stabbed Malus in the back or thrown him from the wall during the attack.
Julian felt the malicious eyes around him, but he didn't care. He shrugged and glared back fiercely. This shrug was something he learned from his brother Dorian, whom he had never liked, and Dorian learned it from Da I learned it from Keus.
"Dakeus!" Julian couldn't help but touch the scar on his face when he thought of this.
At this time, the Reaper ballista on the battlement fired, and Malus, who was still in confusion, could hear the screams of the dying men hit by the crossbow arrows.
A large number of Yankees fell to death under the crossbow fire, but more nimble-footed Yankees carried shields and raised ladders on the ground. Many Yankees had throwing axes in their mouths.
More Yankees waiting to climb up the ladder at the bottom of the city wall threw throwing axes at the Druch soldiers, but the Druch soldiers almost ignored the attack. After all, they were not stupid enough to stick their heads out and use them as targets for the Yankees, but continued Shoot with a repeating crossbow or drop rolling stones from the walls.
"Block it with crossbows and don't let them come up!" Lechkiel's voice echoed through this section of the city wall.
The Druch soldiers on the wall thought that Lechkiel's command was superfluous. They were now very familiar with the procedures of the Yankee attack. The ranks of Yankees crisscrossed the walls.
The Yankees, on the other hand, fearlessly charged into the storm of black crossbow bolts, and some continued to climb even though their bodies were full of crossbow bolts. Despite the terrible losses they had suffered, they were not at all afraid of death, and they slowly approached the battlements.
Julian raised his sword and roared, rushing forward to fight the first enemy who crossed the battlements. The sword blade directly cut through the Yankee's neck. The throwing ax in the Yankee's mouth fell down, and he looked shocked before he died. looked at him. He ignored the enemy's gaze. In his opinion, this was not a noble duel in Naggarond or an elegant sword show. This was a pure massacre, killing people as quickly and efficiently as possible. As long as the Yankees were not allowed to gain a foothold on the battlements, he thought he could massacre the oncoming enemy almost at will.
Suddenly, a thrown ax buzzed in the air. When it was about to approach Julian's head, cold sweat broke out on his forehead for a moment. He knew that he could not escape. The next second, the sound of weapons being swung passed his ears, and with a violent collision of steel, the flying ax deviated from its trajectory.
"Watch out for their axes! I suggest you put on your helmet," Lechkiel said lightly after swiping his double-headed halberd and knocking away the flying axes.
"Damn it, why don't you wear it?" Julian took a step back, looked at the exaggerated headdress of Lechkiel's helmet and muttered in a low voice. In his opinion, Lechkiel's headgear had no protective effect, only decoration. . But he still lowered his body and picked up the helmet from under the battlement. He came here to experience and gain military merit, not to throw his life away here and then let his damn brother stand in front of his body and laugh at his stupidity. He hated it, but it was better than nothing.
A face appeared at the top of the ladder, grinning like a demon. Malus roared and rushed forward. He swayed to avoid an ax that almost pierced his face, and directly knocked the ax away with his sword. His sudden move interrupted the Yankee's movement, and he knocked the Yankee away. The Yankee didn't know what to do. The Yankee never thought that someone could do such an operation at such a close distance. Before the Yankee came to his senses and pulled out another ax, he pierced the Yankee's chest.
Blood gushed out along the Yankee's tattooed chest. Before he died, he wanted to grab Malus's sword and take Malus down the city wall, but Malus reacted faster than him and drew out the sword directly. The sword didn't give him a chance. He threw his head back and howled.
After Julian put on his helmet, he dealt with the Yankees much more brutally than Malus did. The Yankee who was stabbed by him did not fall down, but tried to continue climbing up. He stabbed him again in disbelief. . The Dread Spearman next to him also rushed over, stabbing and slashing at the Yankee, but it seemed that the Yankee was unbeatable as if he was blessed by some mysterious power.
After a Druchi pirate who did not believe in evil had loaded the repeating crossbow in his hand, he cursed angrily, turned the repeating crossbow into close range mode, and fired it directly against the Yankee's head three times in a row. The North with six crossbow arrows stuck in his head The guy didn't even let out his dying roar, and just lay down at the connection between the ladder and the wall stack, motionless.
The tenacious Yankee's struggle in the last few seconds still bought more time for the Yankee behind him. But it was of no use. The Yankee who had just emerged was directly shot in the face with a repeating crossbow by another Druchi pirate who was filling in, and he fell directly.
To the north outside Grond City, Draka Nightmaster began to charge with Hagrid Grave's Cold Lizard Dread Knights.
At this time, scattered snowflakes fell from the temporarily stopped storm, and his hot breath melted the cold snowflakes in front of him. He did not look at the enemy in front of him anymore, but raised his head and looked at the storm with a smile. He knew that he belonged to His battle begins.
What will Darkus do? He was so idle that he was watching the Druch cook making bread in the walled city. He was even thinking about making a stew cannon.
Let’s talk about the content. What I’m thinking about is that these Druchi are not the kind of primitive people who know nothing. They have good military qualities because they have been fighting all year round. The protagonist has already done the most critical thing, which is to coordinate the transfer to bring the army to Grond. The rest are group portraits, all of which have more or less roles and play their respective roles in this battle. It's not that the protagonist rushes in with cavalry or rides a black dragon to start the unparalleled battle, and then the whole champion showdown or something, and then these Druchi guys shout 666 next to them. . . This is too much. . . A bit wise. Moreover, the theme of this book is Gou. Although the protagonist is a warrior, he is positioned as a politician and diplomat, coordinating and managing, stringing together the legends of this medieval warhammer. There is no shortage of people who can fight medieval warhammers. . .
(End of chapter)