Chapter 207: Exterminate the Enemy, Leave No One Behind

Lying on the ground, he gazed up at the moonlit night stained with blood.

Blood seeped into his eyes.

What reflected in his eyes were the tribesmen on the ground, howling in pain, caught in chaos. Pain spread throughout his body.

"——"

In the distance, the roars of the Saxons could be heard.

The enemy pressed their advantage, not giving them a chance to escape, as if even the gods had decided to let them die here.

"Guh…"

It felt like an earthquake was happening inside the man, his organs like misaligned gears, desperately trying to turn but causing him great pain.

He didn't know how long he could live.

He absolutely could not let these guys take a step forward.

He could imagine the horrific fate that awaited his tribesmen if they were caught by these Saxons.

At this point, as a warrior, he should be holding a sword to kill the enemy, not holding people's hands.

He should be listening to the enemy's breath, not wasting energy listening to the surrounding wails.

This was the only way to efficiently exterminate the Saxons.

A warrior's instinct was clearer than anyone else's.

But he couldn't become a demon focused solely on killing; he still wanted to let one more person escape from here as quickly as possible.

"Puh——!"

As he braced himself to rise, he spat out blood.

There were fragments of his kidney in the blood.

The man could not defy the limits of his body with sheer will; he couldn't help but lose strength in his knees and kneel on the ground.

The figure of the enemy swaying in the firelight has already been seen.

Yet, I don't even have the strength to move.

"Damn it… move… move, damn it… kill all these Saxons… even if there's only a glimmer of hope! I want to, I want to! How can I let them trample…! Puhwa—!"

The man's body is on the brink of collapse.

To force himself to speak like this will naturally have consequences; a sweet taste fills his throat, followed by a sharp pain as he coughs up blood.

Indeed, it is an utterly boring act.

It is probably just the mad words of a man facing death, trying to cling to his last shred of dignity.

No, is it really just that?

"Come on! You bastards! Can't you even see me!?"

Before the Saxons discover the other tribesmen.

The man lets out a roar that seems to tear his throat apart, disregarding what fate awaits him next.

Will he be pierced by arrows and turned into a beehive?

Or will he be smashed into meat paste by stones from a catapult?

There is no time for further thought.

The massive blood loss causes the man to begin losing consciousness, a heavy dizziness sweeping over him from the back of his head.

As a loser, dying is not a pity.

But at least he wants his death to have meaning, to at least serve as a candle to guide the surviving tribesmen.

[The man is ready to be tortured by the Saxons; he has killed countless of their companions.]

[Losers should have a tragic end.]

[Even if he falls into a situation as miserable as dog shit, it is his own doing, and he will never blame others.]

[The man thinks of himself as bait.]

[Even though he deeply desires victory, he still has to submit to this cruel reality.]

[So, what happens next is something he could never have imagined—]

"Enemy low-life detected, approximately one thousand in number, following the orders of the elder brother, engaging in battle."

[A cold, indifferent voice echoes from above.]

[In this hellish battlefield, it sounds like the voice of an angel, but as a battle-hardened warrior, the man knows it is bad news.]

[It is a feeling he has never experienced while fighting the Saxons—fear and unease.]

[His instincts urge him to lunge forward and drop to the ground.]

[Boom—!!]

[In an instant, white light envelops his vision.]

[The power far exceeds the bombardment from the catapult earlier, making one wonder if the sky has exploded.]

[The man quickly understands.]

[That is firepower that should not exist here, an anomaly that should not be present in reality, a force that no human should possess.]

[Yet, it is now manifesting before him.]

[His thoughts are still tangled in confusion and shock.]

"Guh…"

The severely injured man swallows the blood in his throat.

The white light turns the street into scorched earth.

Although it takes time for his vision and hearing to recover, even after so long, he still cannot comprehend the situation.

The only thing that can be understood is that.

The more than thirty Saxons who had just approached him have now completely vanished without a trace.

It is not just thirty; it has effortlessly wiped out the small group of Saxons gathered not far away.

"Enemy attack! There is an enemy attack!"

"Besides the Fraser clan, are there other enemies? Where is the attack coming from? Can no one see clearly!?"

"From the sky—it's coming from the sky—!!"

[The Saxons are thrown into disarray by this white light.]

[An enemy that appeared from nowhere struck them, annihilating a hundred of their companions with a single blow.]

[What is most terrifying is that they have no idea where the attack came from or what the enemy looks like.]

[As natural as breathing,]

[Hundreds of lives vanish just like that; it is impossible for the Saxons not to fall into panic.]

"No one is allowed to escape. You invaders of Great Britain have only one path—death."

[A beautiful girl's voice resonates in the sky.]

[This voice is incredibly beautiful.]

[It is more melodious than even the church choir, but the owner of this voice carries no emotion.]

[As if merely completing a mechanical task,]

[It declares the end of its targets.]

"There! She is in the sky!"

A shout pierces the battlefield.

Everyone immediately looks up at the sky.

Floating in the air is a figure clad in deep blue armor, her face concealed by a mask adorned with a rose.

Her entire being is filled with a sense of magnificent functionality.

Her swaying silver hair refracts the moonlight, radiating the cold killing intent of the beautiful knight.

"—Exterminate the enemies, leave not a single one."

The tone of the young knight is calm.

The severely injured man watches the suddenly appearing knight, his whole body unable to stop trembling.

Just as his unease is fulfilled.

Puhch, puhch, puhch—!!

Before he can even see the figure of the enemy's ambush, he hears the sound of blades piercing flesh in advance.

Like a symphony, rich in melody.

The azure light descends from the sky, crashing into the crowd, directly charging into the center of the Saxon forces.