Amber Sword

There’s no more time for arguments, and finally, two groups were quickly decided upon. Ben knew he couldn’t convince the Princess, so he cast one last glance into the rain before pulling up his cloak.

The Princess took a lance from a knight beside her, and using a sword she cut a piece from her cloak and tied it to the lance’s tip. In the wind and rain, the pattern of the crescent moon and lilies soared high.

The knights looked at the flag representing Erune, already drenched by the rain.

The thin group began to move forward.

Indeed, they attracted the Demon army. The Hellhounds charging in a line resembled a rolling crimson wave, engulfing everything in their path as they headed towards the group of fewer than thirty warriors at the battlefield’s center.

This earned Ben precious breathing space. The group holding King of Giants, Buni’s cloak brushed along the edge of the battlefield, nearing the only remaining Flame Gate.

But even this path was not smooth.

The towering Hellhounds, though unable to see them, sometimes charged directly at them without any chance to evade. During such times, Ben could only lift the cloak and pierce the Demon’s throat with a sword from below, letting the foul-smelling blood spew out, causing these giant Demons to stumble and knock over several of their kind.

But the fallen Hellhounds did not attract much attention from their kin, as Demons naturally love to fight among themselves. Such trampling incidents were insignificant during a group charge, and no one would pay attention to the corner of this battlefield.

Demons gradually became more concentrated, and everyone felt the ground beneath their feet was churning.

The Barbarian Demons in the sky first approached the Humans at the battlefield’s center. Reid looked up, his grayed eyes reflecting those grotesque and terrifying faces. The creatures in the sky screeched and spread their wings, swooping down like arrows towards them.

Several Barbarian Demons crashed into the knights’ formation, sending a few knights flying. Their strength far exceeded that of the Hellhounds, and Reid saw those knights being smashed into pieces, their armor shattering like glass. Beneath, the flesh exploded under tremendous pressure, blood vessels burst, turning into a scattered mess of blood.

Several blood drops even splashed onto the Princess’ snow-white face behind them. Griffith remained motionless, her hand tightly gripping the lance, her knuckles turning white from the lack of blood, but the lance stood firm.

Barbarian Demons swept past. Their comrades behind them swooped down again, with one charging toward the Princess in the crowd. As the remaining two or three knights realized what was happening, the Barbarian Demon’s sharp claws almost reached the Half-Elf Girl’s chest.

"Watch out!"

A silver light pierced through the rain, nailing the Barbarian Demon on the head, causing it to crash down. The Old Knight, holding a longsword, stood before the Princess. Griffith looked at this lion of the Kingdom standing in front of her. Though he once betrayed the Kerkova Royal Family, she knew that this elder never betrayed Erune.

"Thank you, Lord Reid."

"As long as the Princess doesn’t blame me for being a traitor, it’s all part of my duty. I owe the Ancestor King a life, repaying it with these old bones isn’t a loss." Reid sighed, "But even with this old life of mine, it may not clear the blame."

"It’s not your fault," the Princess shot a cold glance: "Someone will pay for this, Ben won’t let them go."

Reid knew the Princess was referring to her power-hungry uncle; he sighed again. He hadn’t anticipated Duke Xifah would fall so low, bringing Demons into this world. No wonder Nicholas and Gallock mercilessly sided with the Princess immediately.

Regret lingered in his heart; had he known earlier, he would never have allowed the White Lion Legion to become accomplices. But saying such things now was too late; not even the Holy Temple would spare Duke Xifah.

And the White Lion Legion was destined to lose its past honor.

In fact, none of this mattered anymore. What mattered was whether Erune could continue to exist; whether their life-risking gamble today could succeed.

A streak of silver flew from the elder’s sword, resembling a crescent moon, the lunar arc sweeping through the Barbarian Demon’s formation. The flying Demons in the sky still maintained their forward momentum, but their bodies had already been shattered, pieces crashing to the ground, kicking up a storm of blood and wind.