They storm by trying to rip the center of the Fontana army, made up of about 500 people.
With the peasant militias in the lead group blown up by me a lot, the number of things trying to stop that going was low.
Some peasant militias manage to stir up their minds and try to stop them, but let [the shotgun] go and stay away from them.
As such, he approached the men in metal armor in the central part of the Fontana army.
Armored soldiers build a defense by stacking a few of them together and overlapping each other's shields.
Apparently, we'll intercept.
I wish I could use the magic of flying a bigger rock like the one that knocked Vargas out, but that's hard to use now that I'm running on it.
Then let's simply crumble every defense formation with a cured brick stick.
With that in mind, I sifted the stick on the horizontal giraffe, letting my whole body regain its magic and strengthen its flesh.
Gakeen.
A collision between a metal shield and a hardened brick rings a deafening sound.
I took the stick off my hand in such a shock.
Pull out the hard tooth sword.
It could have been dangerous if it had been attacked at a handful of times.
But my assault seemed successful.
I don't mean to be jumped like a peasant militia, but the armored soldiers, who were shielded in multiple ways and thoroughly defended, were also overshadowed by what was behind them when the lead soldier was pushed down by the impact the stick hit.
The rest of the armored men rush to follow a repelling move as they manage to push it back.
That time was supposed to miss my ski.
"Go. You're not that strong, you guys"
"Don't be silly. The Admiral is just unscrupulous. Bakemon."
"Don't tell me, Vargas. Remember that later. And I'm gonna kick these guys in the ass."
"Ooh."
I'm going to the armored men while I hang out with Vargas.
The armored men are certainly strong and the quality of the equipment is good.
I suspect it is many times stronger than those peasant militias there.
But there's something that's clearly different from mine.
That was the quality of magic.
Armored soldiers with a clearly higher amount of magic than peasant militia.
But it was the same as a peasant militia in terms of the quality or intensity of magic.
A light-blue-colored magic that is standing up as it drains unconsciously from your body.
Only a lot, but that's all.
By contrast, my magic is completely different in quality from that.
The magic you take from the air and food is combined with your magic in your belly, resulting in a liquid-like magic that is drooling and viscous.
This difference in the quality of magic alone appears to be a difference in combat power.
There are about 30 armored men, but even 3 of us could handle this.
I might be able to take down about 10 people on my own.
It was when I thought so.
"I will not tolerate further misfortune."
Someone further behind the several armored soldiers I pushed down attacked us.
He rides the Valkyrie just like me.
Is this the great guy who came out of the other side before the fight started?
So this guy is the head of this enemy army?
It saved me a lot of trouble coming all the way out of the other side.
"Long time no see, Ars. How have you been?
"... Huh? I don't know anything about you."
At a time when I'm lucky enough to try to strike, the other guy talks to me.
Its exquisite timing has deprived us of the opportunity to attack.
Who is this guy?
"Hehe, you don't remember because you were still small? It's me, Raymond, the house of the Fontana family that rules the land."
Housekeeping?
Raymond?
There's no reason I don't remember.
Someone I've met the first time I left town.
Person who received the Valkyrie he dedicated to the Fontana family.
Someone who suddenly cut off that Valkyrie horn without any say.
And who directly authorized my land ownership and other rights.
A man is in front of me then.
He was the commander of Kako's army.
Could this not be the culprit of it all?
It was in an important position of house butcher of the Fontana family, and the man even issued a permit containing the Fontana family crest.
Even so, I've been trying to take what's in Barca, until I put a trick on this one.
Earlier, before the war, he said I was guilty.
There's blood on my head.
Whose fault is it that this happened?
Everything's this guy, Raymond's bad.
I'm not bad, am I?
Unexpectedly, my hands are powered and my nails are devoured.
Blood seeps through my palm.
That was the same as when I was once shown to be cut off the horn of Valkyrie in front of me and I had nothing to do but put up with it.
But not exactly the same.
Unlike then, I had strength.
Even the aristocrats became strong enough to try to do it against their teeth.
"Hey, Ars. Look around. We're surrounded."
It was when all my blood was gathered in my head and I was so excited that I thought even blood vessels might cut it.
My part-time brother speaks to me in a hurry.
For the first time since I heard that voice, my consciousness has turned to my surroundings.
Got hit.
Why Raymond suddenly spoke to me.
It was a time purchase to lure my anger around and let the armored men rebuild their posture.
Stupidly enough, I stopped and listened to Raymond when he said there was the most powerful way of attacking him: a rushing attack with him on board.
"Shit, Admiral. They're gonna use their magic."
Even worse still persists.
The armored men that surrounded us, but they've been trying to attack us by magic, not by weapons.
Magic attack.
Yes, I was completely alarmed that I had defeated my opponent so far with overwhelming strength.
Magic exists in this world.
That doesn't mean a magic attack is our only exclusive patent.
Because I use it, I know how troublesome that attack is.
The magic attack was unleashed simultaneously by the armored soldiers surrounding it.