My Wife, King Arthur

Chapter 675: My Love

No one can figure out what Kerall's white light came out of the sky after he slowly landed.

So when Keiral slowly put away the light and slowly, step by step, walked to the port, the wizards of the devil's heart couldn't help but be forced by Keiral's momentum, one or two to fall apart.

Keiral walked slowly to the port, people kept coming apart, and eventually people couldn't stand it. Keiral's seemingly idle walking gesture pissed off a lot of people. Unlike ordinary people, this group was basically magicians, wizards above level C.

Such a magician, with his own pride, would never want to lower his head in the face of Kerall - even though the power gap is between heaven and earth.

But someone couldn't help it.

They rushed towards Kerall with a magic weapon in their hand, as if to give them a little self-esteem and strength.

They scattered a swarm of bees and rushed towards Kerall.

And then in the middle of the sky, their bodies, their heads, their bodies, suddenly split apart.

The scene was horrible, and the whole scene suddenly quieted down, and then a beautiful young girl appeared on the battlefield.

The long blonde hair spread across her head like a waterfall, carrying a sword, and wearing a tight suit, she looked refreshed, incredibly handsome and beautiful.

Such a beautiful girl proved with a handsome sword collection that she had just killed the first magician to rush up.

A warrior killed a magician?

It's impossible to accomplish on a magical continent!

But they did it... it's like being human!

They didn't even see how they were doing it.

How the hell did they do that?

The pretty girl's eyes flashed with a happy light, then slowly lost her sword, kneeling on one knee.

Kerall smiled and gently touched her head: "Philia. ”

“Ha.” lowered the head to the girl's happy response.

“Are you kidding me...” A devil's heart magician has difficulty accepting this, he is a B-rated magician, and he is quite remarkable among magicians.

His gift allowed Hades to give him the magic he'd lost, and he was more powerful with the magic he'd lost, with no pressure whatsoever to challenge the superior.

The so-called lost magic is the restoration of the dark magic that Jerf taught 300 years ago through archaeology.

These dark magic, combined with ordinary magic, are basically more powerful than modern magic.

While modern magic can make it easier for a magician to advance to the Tenth Holy See, dark magic, which is difficult to advance, is more powerful.

It is hard to say how strong or weak these two sides are, but in the present day of modern magical rotten streets, the power of ancient magic is undoubtedly very exciting for a group of people.

Strength can be confusing.

There are so many people who have lost their judgment when they have power, and so many can be counted as rules - not everyone has their own insistence like a true “hero”.

He growled angrily and rushed up with strange fluctuations in his hand.

Kerall had no expression on his face and continued to walk to the port.

The other body seemed to have washed through an unknown laser channel, and after another two steps, it suddenly turned into a clot, falling very evenly on the ground.

A blood line was formed and the unintentional walls were stretched out in front of Kerall.

The silver-haired girl who gently wiped her sword over her shoulder took her sword and sheathed it, and the cape behind her was blown up.

She slowly knelt down on her knees with a sweet smile, her eyes filled with sweetness.

“Felix.” Kerall came to her and gently touched her head.

“Mm-hmm.” She enjoyed rubbing her face gently against Kerall's hands, like a kitten.

For a moment, most people in the devil's heart began to retreat like the tide.

No one dares to stay in front of these women even for a moment.

That moment is life and death. Nobody wants to die, so back off.

The reason these swords exist is to hunt dragons.

When the dragon's scales melted the magic, and the dragon's claw teeth tore through the defense, the magician became overwhelmed, obviously unable to fight the dragon.

So these scientists, who had been rushed away before Jerf even showed up, abandoned the study of magic and began to develop the limits of the human body.

In fact, the lack of magic on the Knights' continent has kept them from studying magic.

So physical strength development is on the agenda.

The sword's body is stronger than a dragon, faster than a dragon, and it can easily cut the dragon's scales with a hard and sharp sword.

Dozens of people in a group can simply hunt down a dragon.

Such warriors, on the other hand, can be fortified in pieces by simply planting demonic flesh.

Although the mortality rate is high, it is perfectly acceptable in comparison to the human race killed by the Dragons.

So when they ask themselves to develop a single weapon comparable to a dragon, comparable to, or even defeating, the ultimate weapon of a dragon.

They were backstabbed by these weapons.

Even if the weapons were more powerful, the group did not hold their hands, hold their hearts and their readiness to possess them.

They're just a bunch of scientists.

They're not warriors.

Only warriors, warriors, fighters can master weapons.

Kaylar is a warrior, a warrior, a fighter!

He's been fighting different things since birth, and he's had more lives, more struggles.

He never fears, retreats, or is afraid.

He is the hand of the sword.

And the sword, the sword.

In less than ten steps, a beautiful girl would appear on her half knees, as if waiting for Kerall to walk from them and from them.

It's an honor.

Their owners are back.

They also have a heart bone.

When Kerall came to the port.

It's already in the array.

Romans, Macedonians, Umas, Camelos.

For the same reason, these same dreams are gathered here, they are gathered here for the ambitions of their king, Kerall.

Abandoned life and fought for glory.

That's what Kerall saw.

What Kerall did not see must have been, and no longer knew, how many people had died, struggling for that ideal and goal and glory.

They have no hesitation, hesitation or fear whatsoever.

They are the true brave ones.

Keiral slowly arrived in front of Artoria, a woman standing beside her with a giant lion standing in the wind in front of everyone.

Look at him.

Her eyes were filled with water, fog, tenderness and excitement.

But her style was mature and steady, like a mountain, even if the sword stood in front of everyone, it was powerful and the tattoo was still intact.

She's mature.

Keiral was filled with emotion and comfort, and after eight months of absence, she grew more mature and steady.

Become more and more radiant and beautiful.

Her charm became more and more fascinating to him with her steady weight.

Kerall gently came to her.

On one knee and half kneeling in front of her, she gently kissed her extended right hand.

“I'm back, my king. ”

“I'm back, my love. ”

“Welcome back, my wise man. ”

“Welcome back, my love...”

All the magicians watched the scene with amazement.

The supreme power of the Fiore kingdom knelt so halfway in front of this woman, gently rubbing her back with her cheek.

It's like finding a home, like finding a psychological support.

He sealed it for a moment, but everyone was shocked by Kerall's ten-second tenderness.

This man, does he still have this tender gesture?

Everyone was in a dark surprise, forgetting the hundreds of warriors standing behind each other.

Keiral stood up and slowly patrolled the area, his eyes everywhere was the sound of an armored impact from the warriors' chests raised.

Keiral felt a lot of emotion in his heart. He said everything he wanted to say. Finally, he just lifted his fist and shouted, “Whoa!! ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!!” All the warriors roared wildly.

This is not only the roar of thousands of people in the port, but also the roar of all the warriors who have slowly entered the port on board.

Their roar is the roar of victory, the roar of pride against themselves, and they overcome the winds, the storms, the thunderstorms, the hails, and drove warships to this other shore.

They are not here to be charitable.

Never come to invite guests to dinner.

They come to fight, they come to fight, they even die in their homeland, and there is no fear of death for survival.

They are warriors, warriors, warriors.

They have nothing to fear.

Teams of warriors descended from the boat.

The Greeks, the Spartans, the Camelos, the Romans, the Uruks, the hardwearing men, just walked off the boat in simple armor and huge shields.

Their armor is so crude and sour. All the magicians look stunned.

How many years has this rudimentary armor not been seen?

These guys have strong muscles, but they look poorly equipped.

Where are these guys from?

It was at a time when this question arose in everyone's heart that a line of female fighters walked down from the battleship blinded all of them.

Hundreds more women dressed just like those who can kill a Class B Wizard in seconds!!