Amber Sword

These Scroll Wizards are immersed in the world of texts, rarely appearing anywhere outside the library. Heaven knows why they’d participate in this war.

The remaining Fire Claw Lizardman Lord appears the easiest to deal with, yet in the Elemental Realm, neither elemental creatures nor half-elemental beings are easy to handle. This is common knowledge.

Seeing these few people, not only did the Templars below, but even Williams observing at the top, furrowed his brow in an instant. Char’s appearance made him feel uneasy; if the Silver People were to intervene in this war, the Holy Temple might be dragged into a long-lasting diplomatic dispute.

But the Bujia people shouldn’t be so reckless.

He could only hope Char’s appearance was a personal act.

Williams pressed the sword hilt, regaining his composure. Although there were some variables, the balance on the battlefield still heavily tilted to his side. Since the Princess’s side was ignorant of the consequences, he didn’t mind using facts to teach the other side a lesson.

Indeed,

Brand ordered his Summoned Creatures to temporarily block the Flame Temple’s summit strength in the air; however, this was not enough to change the overall situation on the battlefield.

Coordinating with the Flame Temple’s attack, the Northern Alliance blew their horns, a massive army regrouping and advancing after overcoming various difficulties. But the soldiers weren’t very enthusiastic; the Eruein realized they unwilling to fight alongside the Cruz people, slaughtering their own compatriots.

The nobles had to curse while driving their soldiers forward, creating a bizarre scene on the battlefield. Noble Lords and their Knights had to form rows of supervision teams at the rear to oversee their army’s advance — it was almost like Cruz people driving their slave army.

Nonetheless, the vast army pressing forward remained suffocating. Count Oting’s private noble troops were ignorant; they watched the sky as a golden meteor streaked across, shooting directly toward Angerk Mountain. Meanwhile, a dark cloud-like mass of troops advanced on the ground, resembling an apocalyptic scene.

If before they still had the confidence to fight the Northern Alliance, now only bewilderment remained.

Can this battle still be fought? Across from them is the Flame Temple and Northern Alliance union, making either side seem undefeatable, let alone combined.

Count Oting attempted to rally his men’s morale but achieved limited results. The Count sighed helplessly. At this time, the Northern Alliance had already crossed the creek, rapidly swelling in the heavy rain, and was preparing to enter the forest.

Everyone momentarily felt a bit desperate.

"Mr. Brand," Princess Griffine asked softly, "Should we retreat some?"

Brand finally withdrew his gaze from above, looking up at the main battlefield — the enemy seemed so numerous they could be described as an ocean, but he shook his head: "Give me a little more time."

He was waiting for an opportunity.

But at that moment, suddenly on the battlefield, a sound rang out. It was a horn, but not the Northern Alliance’s Bull Horn — it was a deeper, longer horn.

New enemies? Or reinforcements?

Everyone couldn’t help but be slightly startled and then raised their heads. Subsequently, amidst the endless rain curtain, a commotion quickly erupted in the array of the Northern Alliance toward the south, rapidly expanding. In virtually an instant, a massive breach opened there.

It’s reinforcements!

Everyone’s hearts lightly skipped.

But where could reinforcements come from now? Could it be the Princess’s troops have arrived? Impossible, everyone internally shook their heads. Even the First Royal Fleet hasn’t entered the scene; how could the Princess’s troops be first to arrive?

"It’s Lantoniyan’s army!"

Count Oting suddenly lowered his monocular, calling out with a trembling voice.

"It’s the Royalists!" A stir erupted among the officer cadets of the Royal Knight Academy, "Impossible! They left long ago!"

But indeed, it was the Royalist’s army.

Lantoniyan’s shield emblem, Macaro’s personal flag, Count Violet’s personal banner, each shining on this battlefield, cutting into the Northern Alliance’s main formation like a sharp blade.