Chapter 90 Conflict (Request for Collection)

"Ahhhhhhh! Why! Why is this happening! The attackers were not found!

Once again the city has taken a huge hit!

It was possible to use spells to bombard one after another! Why didn't he do this from the beginning? Is he playing a trick on us? What does he take us for?

My city ... my city! It's over!"

In the basement, in the soft light, the Viscount of Ireland let out an unbearable howl and fell to his knees in a cry and wail of pain and despair.

Having just now, after learning of the losses and the dead and wounded, he almost collapsed, and he could guess how many more of his lordship's people would be leaving the city early tomorrow morning.

If the momentum was not stopped.

Even if all the people in the city were not burnt to death, they would probably all flee!

Then the whole of Ireland would be an empty city!

And he, as a Viscount, would be dead in name only!

"Send someone! Send someone to inform His Majesty the King! Tell His Majesty to call upon the legendary saint of the law, Maael! Only he! He is the only one who can save us!"

The Viscountess covered her head and shouted as if she had found a lifeline.

"Madame! With all due respect! His Excellency, the legendary Law Sage, was not present at the magic convention two years ago, he might ..."

The Archmage of Nanga, with a superior face, paused at this point.

"Might what? You don't want to tell me that His Eminence the Law Sage has fallen?"

"No, what I mean is that His Eminence, the Law Sage, may still be travelling around the other realms, and you should know, Madam, that by reaching the level of a legendary spellcaster, the entire world is no longer in their chains.

The universe is infinite, and His Eminence the Law Sage may have left long ago to explore new paths."

"What then? Are the raiders left to run rampant? His Holiness the Law is not there! Then invite those level 19, level 18 spellcasters over!"

Everyone smiled and there was another moment of silence; were spellcasters of this level really willing to go against a spellcaster who was infinitely close to a legend for them?

They did not know.

But neither did they go on to persuade the Viscountess, who was already close to madness.

"By the way, how many people have probably run away from the city now?"

The Viscount of Ireland suddenly spoke, his voice a little tired, a little lowered.

"Probably nearly ten thousand people have run away."

"Ten thousand ...," the Irish Viscount sniffed, stifling a sigh.

"If this continues, it won't be more than a few days before the city is destroyed at my hands! This is absolutely unacceptable! You ... go and give me orders ..."

By the end of his words, Viscount Ireland's face had turned as gloomy as a stern ghost.

Those around him heard the last words he said and their faces changed several times in quick succession.

The next day, early in the morning.

It was grey and dull, not yet light, but the city was buzzing with activity.

Of course, this bustle was without a trace of festivity!

The streets were lined with people.

Groups of people, families in tow, carrying suitcases, flocked towards the city gates!

They were ready to leave a city cursed by the gods and punished by the heavens!

By now, there were more and more people, pessimistic about the future of the city, more and more convinced that the Viscount had sinned against the gods in order to suffer this disaster!

If you want to live, you must leave the city!

The people could no longer bear the reality and the future of a city where they could die at any moment, anywhere!

Even if, by leaving, many of their possessions and properties will be reduced to nothing!

But at least they would still have their lives, wouldn't they?

But they had just reached the gates of the city when they found a large group of people had already gathered here.

The gates were closed and a large group of soldiers in armour formed a human wall, blocking the way.

"Open up! Open up! Why don't you let us out of the city? We are not prisoners! You bastards have no right to do this!"

A group of the townspeople shouted from the front and kept pounding the wall of soldiers.

The soldiers had a bitter look on their faces as they faced the onslaught of the townspeople.

"Silence, everyone! Be quiet! The disaster will soon be over! Please believe in our Lord Viscount! He will soon find the attackers! The city will be peaceful again! Quiet, everyone!"

"You don't know what you're talking about! It's been over a month! How many times has the Viscount of Ireland said that? Do you think we still believe it?"

"This is divine punishment! The Viscount of Ireland has sinned against the gods! We are innocent! We will never die with this bastard! Let us go now!"

"You bastards! Do you really want us all to die here? Let us go!

Do you think I don't know that? You bastards! You've already moved your families away, haven't you?

You want us to stay and die!"

The people yelled and shouted, and the onslaught intensified in vain.

But this was still held back by the soldiers.

Until one of them lost his temper and drew a dagger from behind him, killing one of the soldiers!

"Damn you all! All of you deserve to die! It's because of you, you bastards! All this talk about finding the attackers! That the city would soon be quiet!

I believed you! And then what happened? My wife! My children! And my parents!

They're all dead! And now! You want to lie to me! It's unforgivable! Unforgivable!"

The lord roared, drew his dagger and stabbed another soldier with a vengeance!

But the next moment, an archer on the wall suddenly struck and shot an arrow right through the lord's throat!

At this, all the lords burst out in howls of fear.

More impatiently, they surged towards the front.

"Stop it, all of you! Get back! I'll count to ten and if there's anyone within ten metres of the walls! I'll shoot whoever's left!"

A cold bellow rang out, silencing all the people.

But not many paid attention.

Until ... whoosh! Another cracking sound rang out, and a lord's neck was shot through, falling into a pool of blood.

This time, many of the lordsfolk were scared and backed away.

But some others burst out with even more fury, storming the human wall and initiating a clash with the soldiers.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh ...

At this moment, arrow after arrow, more and more people were wounded and killed, and it was not until a quarter of an hour or so later that all the townspeople retreated.

But this left a mess of bodies, at least a dozen of them, staring at the soldiers with fierce faces, as if they were evil spirits.

When the soldiers saw this, their hearts were filled with sorrow, but at the same time their hearts were relieved and they laughed bitterly, saying.

"Captain, is it really right for us to do this?"

"It can't be helped! Who would have thought that in just a month's time, the once prosperous city of Aire would turn into such a mess!

Almost 10,000 people have left the whole territory! If this goes on, the city will simply be ruined!

That's why the Viscount gave the order to die."

The captain with the longbow sighed bitterly.

The mood of all of them was even heavier, they didn't know when this kind of day would come to an end.