Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 442 - 441: Fire

This is a war.

Sir Maryland certainly knew this was a war, he knew it from the very beginning, but at this moment, he couldn’t understand what Gawain meant by saying this—is there something special about war?

Aristocrats make declarations, submit letters, documents, and war notices according to etiquette, gather knights and conscription soldiers, agree on time and place, form ranks, charge, fight, capture prisoners, exchange interests—in necessary times, decide everything through honorable duels and oaths, isn’t this war?

The legendary Sword of Pioneers, as famous as the Grand Duke, once again struck his knight’s sword. The blazing fire on the blade made it almost impossible to breathe. The flaming black blade made one think of the dark and corrupted Gondor wasteland, and the flames on the blade were reminiscent of the lights that illuminated the wasteland seven hundred years ago—but at this moment, Sir Maryland had no extra energy to think about these things with admiration.

It is said that after the resurrection of the founding hero, his strength declined and he is in a temporary period of weakness.

It is said that the long sword, after seven hundred years of slumber, has completely lost its magic power. Now, it is just an ordinary sharp blade made of legendary materials.

It is said that Duke Gawain Cecil, who rose from the dead, almost never left his territory because the hidden injuries he suffered seven hundred years ago have not healed, and he still cannot step onto the battlefield.

Bullshit.

The power contained in that black longsword is astonishingly strong. Every slash or thrust is just right. Gawain Cecil’s moves can hardly be called glamorous; they are even as simple and rustic as the ordinary soldiers in a battle formation. Besides some basic knight skills, the Grand Duke hardly used any so-called ”legendary forbidden arts.” However, this simple and rustic fighting style made Sir Maryland break out in cold sweat.

Unlike the aristocratic knights trained and nurtured with rigorous and formulaic methods, Gawain Cecil’s battle experience all came from the battlefield and the fights with aberrations. Aberrations have no knight etiquette, no subtle variations in moves, nothing that can be called a routine. Fighting those non-human entities can often be simplified to the most basic phrase: hit the opponent before they hit you, and ensure your attack is powerful enough to prevent them from making a second attack.

This pure ”combat” made the knight very uncomfortable.

He has experienced battles, fights with various strong enemies, and it was not his first time challenging an enemy stronger than himself in aristocratic warfare. In his youth, he even eradicated the largest exiled knights’ group on the Plains of the Holy Spirits with only eight family knights—those who were all merciless and oath-breaking mercenaries and Oathbreaker Knights.

But it was clear that none of this could compare to the chaotic wave from seven hundred years ago.

If there was a general from the eastern border here, perhaps they could have done better than him...

Gawain found himself almost fully assimilated and absorbed the experience from Gawain Cecil. Although his control over this body hadn’t reached its peak, it wasn’t far off.

After more than a year, he finally regained to be a legend, perhaps just at a beginner level, but defeating the high-level knight in front of him was not an issue.

However, facing this high-level knight named Maryland, he couldn’t help but remember another enemy he faced last year:

The fallen Druid of the Oblivion Association, the man named Bard Wendell, once the Typhon Wolf General.

Although Bard Wendell was ultimately defeated by Gawain due to a significant difference in power, his swordsmanship, which came entirely from the battlefield and was honed through countless battles, still left a deep impression on the latter. The high-level knight in front of Gawain, although he retained complete extraordinary abilities and surpassed Bard Wendell in pure strength, lacked battle experience and awareness on an entirely different level.

It’s no wonder that one was the strongest ”Wolf General” the Typhon Empire had seen in a century, while the other was merely a commander of a domestic fortress in Anzu. The high-level knight named Maryland had already done very well.

On the river, a layer of fog gradually spread. The battle between the two powerful transcendents heated the surrounding water, creating a thick mist, and due to Gawain’s deliberate control, all the battle impacts were confined within the safe distance of the two battleships, and the fog did not spread further.

In a brief moment, Sir Maryland and the Grand Duke moved past each other, a massive force pressing on his sword-wielding hand, nearly causing him to lose his knight’s sword. When he regained his balance, he found that Gawain’s figure had disappeared from sight.

The next moment, he noticed the surrounding fog suddenly stiffening. The fog, originally formless and formless, had somehow been dominated by the power of the legendary Duke, ”cast” into a massive cage like steel. The armor on his body cracked under the weight of the steel fog, and the knight’s sword in his hand slowly twisted under the pressure.

He struggled for a moment, then fell silent. The black Sword of Pioneers was already pressing against his shoulder. The blade no longer burned with raging fire, but it exuded a suffocating oppressive force.

The thick fog dissipated, and the oppressive force that seemed to be cast in steel faded away as well. Sir Maryland raised his head to see those two destructive Arcane Torrents slowly sweeping across the sky—at the end of the Arcane Torrent, Rocky Ridges Fortress’s barrier shattered into a shower of light particles with a series of roars and whistles. The Arcane Torrent then pierced through the now-defunct barrier, cutting a shocking huge crack on the black walls that had stood for a century.

On high ground number two, Sir Philip witnessed the collapse of the magic barrier of Rocky Ridges Fortress and unhesitatingly gave the order to open fire: ”Target’s shield is gone, all artillery, begin shooting!”

The single-shot, powerful ”Righteousness-I” accelaration cannon and the fiercely powerful ”Persuader-I” accelaration cannon erupted with deafening explosions. Over a hundred pale blue trajectories once again pierced the sky and, beyond the vast battlefield plains, crashed heavily upon the walls of the black fortress.

This time, all of the Cecil Clan’s ”Skyfire” finally engaged.

The stone fortress walls, built with huge stones and filled with metal castings, directly faced the power of Skyfire for the first time. The bricks, once considered impregnable, shattered in an instant, exploding into a sky filled with fragmented stones and scorching molten metal. The few soldiers who remained on the walls began to retreat after the barrier collapsed, but some who didn’t retreat in time were either shaken off the walls or hit directly by artillery fire and shrapnel, dying on the spot. The anticipated defensive counterattack forces vanished the moment the barrier collapsed.

The knights, officers, and southern aristocracy who stayed in the city were thrown into chaos. Though some officers tried to maintain order, they couldn’t stop the impending disaster with the fortress broken. What was even more frightening was that two terrible beams of energy reappeared after a mere ten-minute silence.

They continuously swept the sky, their low hum becoming something even more terrifying to the southern nobles than the whistling of falling Skyfire. The beams no longer lingered on cutting the fortress walls but kept destroying the mage towers, archer towers, sentinel towers, and the upper areas of the castle both inside and on the walls.

All high-level facilities that could serve as defensive strongholds were being cleared one by one.

Viscount Mari Oran and Viscount Konsko ran desperately on the outer steps of the castle, trying their best to escape from this purgatory on earth.

Explosions and cries came from all directions, the sky constantly echoed with the shrill sound of falling Skyfire and the humming of beams sweeping through the air. At this moment, they recalled the terrifying memories of Broken Stone Ridge and the even more horrifying and desperate wilderness escape that followed. They could no longer care about the dignity and basic etiquette of nobles—all the attendants were abandoned, all dignity could be discarded. They changed into the clothes of servants and grooms in the castle, gathered all the gold and jewels in sight before leaving the room, and then ran non-stop along these seemingly endless steps.

Once again, a tooth-numbing hum came from high above. The short and stout Viscount Mari Oran looked back in fear and saw a blinding white beam slowly sweeping across the turrets in the upper districts of the castle. Wherever the beam reached, the stone-built turret was obliterated in a series of explosions, with the remaining parts turning into a ”stone rain” falling from the sky, and further away, the original rooftop of the castle—disappeared under the beam’s sweep.

Though they didn’t understand why the Cecil Clan had not used Skyfire to bomb the castle area, and instead only used beams to sweep the castle’s upper levels, Viscount Mari Oran and Viscount Konsko couldn’t afford to think about these things now. They were intimidated by the formidable power of the beam, and their only thought was to quickly turn around and continue escaping northward.

They ran past the steps, along a path, through the already chaotic Inner City District, gradually approaching the northern gate of rocky ridges Fortress—here, the attack from the Cecil Clan became somewhat weaker because the linear beams couldn’t sweep the lower North City District after crossing the high walls. Additionally, the Cecil Clan’s Skyfire had never bombed here, but the two Viscounts still dared not linger at all.

They kept running forward, breathing heavily as they ran, and the gold and jewels in their arms felt exceptionally heavy at this moment. Though these should have brought them hope, each step now consumed their energy manifold, yet the northern fortress wall was soon within reach.

A pungent smell wafted into Viscount Konsko’s nostrils. He couldn’t help but glance quickly around him as he ran and saw smoke and flames rising from several nearby military facilities in his view.

This was a fire that came from somewhere... Someone was setting fires within the city... The already chaotic and crumbling fortress would plunge straight into the abyss once these fires got going.

But this no longer concerned him.

”I... I can’t run anymore...” The already physically weak Viscount Mari Oran said intermittently beside him, his breath increasingly erratic, ”You... you wait for me...”

Viscount Konsko glanced back at Viscount Mari Oran but barely paused, not even opening his mouth to speak.

Even saying one more word now would be a waste of the energy needed to save their lives.

The fire in the city burned more and more fiercely, black smoke columns rising from more places, as if hundreds of people were setting fires all over the Inner City District. Smoke and dust rolled in from all directions, irritating Viscount Konsko’s already sensitive trachea, but he persevered through the thick smoke because the walls were only a few hundred meters away.

Only two hundred meters left.

Only one hundred meters left.

Salvation was in sight, the path out of hell was right there. At this moment, even Viscount Mari Oran beside him revived, speeding up to catch up with Viscount Konsko’s pace.

Through the swirling dust, Viscount Konsko vaguely saw what appeared to be some figures standing ahead, in the way of the path to the north gate.

As they got closer, he finally saw the faces of those figures; it was Lady Lopene Glen.

The Viscountess stood there, a slight smile on her face, elegantly and appropriately observing the two Viscounts dressed as grooms and servants.

A male elf with blonde hair, whom they had never seen before, stood beside her. Not far behind the two of them stood dozens of fully armed warriors.

”Goddess of the Night!” Viscount Konsko was taken aback. Due to the smoke and his own chaotic thoughts, he did not pay much attention to the soldiers not far behind Ropeni and instead exclaimed, ”Viscountess Gran, it turns out you have already...”

”Viscount Konsko, and Viscount Oran, good day,” Ropeni slightly bowed, smiling warmly, her words clearly reaching the two Viscounts’ ears, ”What do you think of today’s massive fire?”

Viscount Konsko’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment, his tone somewhat trembling: ”Your words are...”

Ropeni, however, ignored him and continued in a soft voice, ”Doesn’t it resemble the one eleven years ago?”