Amber Sword

The importance of the Flame Blade Odefis to the Flame Temple is self-evident. More crucially, the Sacred War is as significant to him as it is to Moros.

Those Northern Men are truly patient.

But unfortunately, they left him one last chance.

The Divine Artifact Resonance exposed his position, but it also exposed the opponent’s intentions. Brand couldn’t help but be a bit sarcastic; the Flame Temple still doesn’t understand that this battlefield has long been under his control.

The opponent will soon regret it; he turned back:

"Nemesia, please order the entire army to turn around, this is our last opportunity."

The Female Knight looked up and glanced at him.

She silently nodded.

The wailing horns sounded.

Orland tightened the reins; he could already hear the horns echoing in the air, signaling not an attack but a retreat. However, he had no choice but to follow through. He saw those soldiers in gray-white battle armor pouring out from the alleys before and behind.

The Kingdom White Lion Legion!

Orland felt his heart tighten, but his reaction was quick, "It’s an ambush, into that alley!" The five Officer Knights showed remarkable coordination at this moment, simultaneously pulling the reins, turning in unison, tightening their legs on the horse’s bellies, and leaping into a side alley.

"Speed up! Speed up! Don’t stop!" But soon, Orland saw almost identical soldiers appearing at the other end of the alley, seemingly heavy infantry, two rows, about a dozen men. He immediately shouted, "The White Lion Legion is infantry; speed up and break through them!"

But the White Lion Infantry reacted quickly, as if they had just appeared at the alley entrance, the front row raised Tower Shields, and the rear row raised long spears.

The type of all-white long spears they used were a special equipment of the White Lion Infantry, modified from the Dragon Spear of the Wind Elves, and were top-notch for dealing damage to cavalry.

Orland’s heart sank; the opponent’s tactical skill was too high. He could only wish he was riding a War Dragon of the Cruz Iron Cavalry since only such a beast with armor plating over seven millimeters thick could withstand a blow from the White Lion spear.

He turned his head; behind him, the White Lion Infantry had already surged in, led by a White Lion Guard holding a Heavy Shield and a War Axe. Further back, the White Lion Legion Light Infantry had already drawn their longbows — that’s when Orland realized the rain had stopped, and projectile weapons were starting to come into play.

This was certainly adding insult to injury.

Orland turned back, squinting his eyes involuntarily. In his view, the rows of White Lion spears became clearer and closer, the patterns on them distinct, though slightly different from what he’d seen in the North before.

Has the White Lion Legion improved their weapons again?

They truly deserve to be the Kingdom’s top elite. However, in such circumstances, the disadvantage was simply too great.

It was time for one last desperate attempt.

Orland tightened his grip on the cavalry sword in his hand, with the White Lion Light Infantry behind already having released bowstrings; a sharp sound piercing through the air grew from distant to near, then he felt a few heavy impacts on his back armor.

It hurt briefly but didn’t penetrate, though their aim was terrible. He couldn’t help but feel lucky that the Kingdom’s White Lion Legion was never known for remote strike forces, even though he regretted it more than once in the past. But now, facing them as opponents, Orland felt relieved he wasn’t a crow’s beak.

But the spear formation ahead was getting closer.

"Put in more effort, brothers!" He suddenly raised his sword, shouting with all his remaining strength.

"For Erune, advance!" The knights beside him roared in unison.

But at that very moment, Orland seemed to hear a faint voice shouting, "Split! Split!" What split? He was momentarily puzzled. Suddenly, he saw the White Lion Infantry ahead hustling aside, revealing a gap in the middle.

An opportunity!

Orland seemed like a drowning man grabbing a straw, immediately screaming like those knights charging enemy lines in the Golan-Elsen Plateau Campaign: "Charge through! Charge through!"

No one wants to die if they can avoid it. The Officer Cadets were the same, though they didn’t understand why the opponent left an opening, but they had no choice now.