Chapter 778

Chapter 778: Shattered Sunset

“Raise your guns, fire!”

On the hillside, rows of white metal shields stood firm. At the command, dense gun barrels emerged from behind the shields and opened fire.

Short bursts of light flashed in succession. Metal pellets streaked through the air, instantly shattering the enemy’s armor, piercing their flesh, and blooming bloodstains.

A swath of soldiers from the Crimson Empire fell, but more quickly filled their ranks.

“Quickly, quickly, quickly! Charge while they reload!” The mounted officer raised his sword and shouted, running back and forth along the front line.

The Imperial soldiers below began to jog up the hill.

After multiple confrontations with Clancia, the Crimson Empire naturally recognized the advantages of muskets, even though they couldn’t produce enough at once. They had developed some general tactics to counter musket fire.

Close combat, night battles, rain, bombardment, and archery were all ways to counter musket fire.

In the current era, crossbows were much faster than muskets, but the shortage of crossbowmen limited their effectiveness at range. (Rapid-fire rifles would come much later.)

From the undulating hills, soldiers clad in iron-gray armor, wearing black and red plumed helmets, surged forward like a tide. The clanking of metal armor was deafening.

Facing the afternoon sun, the raised gun barrels reflected flashes of light, creating a shimmering sea. Dry grass was kicked up with each step, filling the air with tension.

Load, insert ammunition, reassemble, close, raise the barrel, aim, fire.

Bang!

With the recoil against his shoulder, a sharp sound rang out. Blood blossomed on an enemy nearby, who then struggled to his knees.

But behind him, dark figures loomed, charging forward again.

After three rounds of firing, the soldiers of the Crimson Empire and Clancia clashed in close combat.

Both sides held wide steel shields, and long spears bristled behind them, ready to charge. With the infusion of magic, the blades glimmered sharply.

Finally, the two forces collided like trains, spears piercing each other, blood spraying. Thousands of lives vanished instantly. Behind them, soldiers pressed forward, engaging in close-quarters combat.

Looking down at the fierce battle on the hill, hundreds of nobles in deep crimson cloaks rose into the sky, their flight enabled by blood-colored magical wings.

These nobles of the Crimson Empire ranged from Demon Sequence 4 to 5. Their crimson wings allowed them to agilely enter the battlefield, break through the rear lines, and execute ambushes, blockades, or escapes effortlessly.

Seeing these blood-winged nobles, Clancia’s rear also spread pairs of white wings. Nearly a hundred angels from the Holy Land or Sage Academy rose into the sky.

Though fewer in number and less powerful, they could at least somewhat restrain the enemy’s attacks and reduce casualties.

“How delightful,” Pan Sede said with a sinister smile as he watched the white-robed priests and healers.

He spread his right hand, and blood magic gathered in the air, forming a twisted sphere.

Blood Magic · Scarlet Poison Snare!

Like a signal, the red-cloaked nobles threw their blood spheres toward the enemy lines.

Halfway through, a pale golden barrier rose, deflecting half the spheres, but soon they corroded and dissipated. Some spheres exploded below, spreading dark red blood in all directions. Anyone hit by the spray would be poisoned instantly.

Seeing many soldiers spitting blood and convulsing, Albert furrowed his brows. He could no longer hold back his magic and energy.

“White Shield of Sanctity, deploy!” he shouted. His large shield with gold edges glowed brightly.

The 600 shield bearers beside him raised their shields, activating their extraordinary cores and casting spells together.

Golden light flowed between the shields, forming layers of pale golden barriers. These barriers blocked the subsequent blood magic projectiles.

“Heh, even you, Albert, how long can you last?” Pan Sede said, flapping his wings and soaring upward. Hundreds of red-clothed nobles followed him.

Like birds of prey diving, these crimson figures swooped in arcs, avoiding ground fire and circling around to attack the enemy’s flank.

Facing the reloading musket troops, these noble warriors with blood swords swung freely, leaving trails of blood.

“You all will die!”

Seeing his comrades fall one by one, a soldier gritted his teeth. He lifted his musket and charged, pulling the trigger only when he was meters away from the enemy.

Although this action left a small bloodstain on the enemy, it cost him his life.

The blood sword swept, and a head flew off. The nearly three hundred red-clothed nobles wreaked havoc among the low-ranking soldiers.

White-robed priests arrived, wielding swords of white flame. Despite being outnumbered, they could only hold the enemy back.

White flames and red swords intermingled, and people fell from the sky, blood splattering.

As the white shields on the hillside were surrounded by a black and red tide, a strange song echoed on the horizon.

The voice was hoarse yet solemn.

As the song began, an invisible breeze seemed to blow across the battlefield. Demon Sequence magic was suppressed, and pure white magic sand filled the air.

“From the mountainside!” a shout reverberated.

Pan Sede turned to see hundreds of gray-cloaked nuns appearing on a distant hill. These nuns wore uniform capes, hoods, and veils.

They sang in unison, creating a wind of light.

“The gray-cloaked nuns of the Holy Land!”

Seeing reinforcements, Pan Sede growled and led the red-clothed nobles towards them.

If these nuns continued their hymns and domain techniques, the Empire’s extraordinary power would be greatly suppressed, while the enemy could strengthen their holy shields and heal many wounded priests.

Drawing his golden-red longsword with a metal-constructed rose guard, Pan Sede gripped his family’s blood-red rose sword. A sense of honor and mission surged within him.

This was one of the 27 blood-red rose swords granted by King Alin to his vassals, and he was from one of the 27 pure-blood noble families. Now, he aimed to restore his ancestors’ glory and engrave his name on the honor roll.

This noble genius of Demon Sequence 6 leaped like a red lightning bolt, slashing at the gray-cloaked nuns.

Clang!

Unfortunately, today he wasn’t as fortunate as his ancestors. Two special long swords deflected his crimson blade with engravings.

These swords were blunt, like rulers, with grooves that caught the sharp and dangerous blade.

“You are!?” he exclaimed, surprised by the blind nun blocking him.

But she didn’t respond. Instead, two iron-gray swords crossed, easily piercing his body, making him collapse to the ground.

His blood-red wings faded, and blood oozed from his wounds. This was a gift from the angels, a wound demons couldn’t heal, draining all warmth.

Pan Sede couldn’t understand why he had suddenly failed. His consciousness blurred, the sounds of battle and explosions fading into a distant dream. The world grew silent and cold.

Was this death? He slowly closed his eyes, falling onto the plain gray dress.

—

Windhowl Province, Central Battlefield.

The battle raged fiercely. The air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke. Corpses and craters littered the ground.

Clancia’s lines retreated further and further, seemingly on the brink of collapse, but the battle wouldn’t end here.

As the black and red tide threatened to engulf the white and gold-lined lines, reinforcements finally arrived.

One after another, pure white banners appeared on the horizon, accompanied by the galloping horses. Young lives rushed from the distant sky.

These cavalrymen, clad in simple armor, wielded lances, urging their steeds toward the battlefield under the sunset.

They were reserve soldiers from various counties within Clancia, not yet fully equipped but time was of the essence. Now they marched toward the decisive battle, ready to defend their beloved country with their lives and blood.

Nearly 300,000 lances pointed to the sky, charging into the chaotic battlefield amidst clouds of dust.

Since the war began, Clancia had continuously recruited reserve soldiers. Military training was conducted everywhere, ensuring every young man was prepared for war.

Now, the first batch of reserves had completed their training. They gathered from all corners, assembling in Soland before arriving at the battlefield today.

Gales howled, dust flying with the pounding hooves. Dust and smoke filled their nostrils, but their hearts beat like the scorching sun.

Once, they lived in a lifeless gray world, enduring hardships they could never forget.

Dry, sandy black bread, hard labor under the scorching sun, emaciated fathers, siblings dying in their arms, unjust laws, cold mockery and disdain, narrow houses offering no shelter.

It seemed there was no hope, no future.

Then, a ray of light pierced the dark clouds, bringing warmth and hope.

From that day on, he raised this banner, swearing to defend it until the end of his life and the world.

Now, it was time to fulfill that promise.

“Long live Clancia!”

Lances were lowered, pointing skyward, carrying an unstoppable momentum as they charged into the black and red world.

Gales howled, the sunset bloody.

Accompanied by the ultimate charge, young cavalrymen bravely rushed into the enemy lines, tearing them apart. With each burst of blood, young and fiery lives were lost.

Courage isn’t fearlessness; it’s choosing to move forward despite knowing the danger.

“You shall advance like a chariot, until death.”

(End of Chapter)