The Legend of Fatality

Bai En paced back and forth outside the temporary command account at the temporary dock, and was almost going crazy. The Billy Fleet hiding in Billy Harbor rushed out of the harbor. Although the Earl of Cordoba had expected it, the two sides began to fight not far from the coast.

Netska's fleet had the upper hand, hiding behind the side of the Margarita Coalition Fleet frantically pouring artillery shells at the enemy. But even so, Bill Barry's fleet still held its ground as if they could win the battle at sea.

He didn't even need to go to see the battle outside the camp. He knew what it was like. The Bill Pali didn't have time to transport the artillery to the front, but it didn't stop them from going crazy. The corpses left in the first round of the attack alone filled the trenches outside the camp, and there were even a lot of wounded people who had not died.

The battlefield was full of broken bodies. The wounded crushed one cart after another. The pale flesh was burned by fire, minced by long swords, gnawed by mice and crows, eaten by men and women, and children . This is the scene he has witnessed, and he does not want to see it again now.

And now, the shock and fear in his mind had come out again, and he could feel his heart throbbing. This inexplicable sense of fear made Bai En wonder whether it was a sign.

Bai En raised his head and then stopped. He heard the horn, and if he heard it right, it was the horn of the Margaritas retreating. He also noticed that the light from the distant sky became brighter, just like a meteor. He stared at the light for a while, and suddenly found that the light disappeared. What does this represent? He was puzzled in his heart. He turned his head towards the Margarita Front on the south. Is the war over? Did we win or lose?

But reality tells him that the battle is not over, and the killing outside the camp has not stopped.

"Master, the boat is not enough." Morris trotting all the way to Bai En said.

"Why wouldn't it be enough?" Bai En turned his gaze back to the temporary dock, where countless boats were still parked, densely packed into the dock.

"The bridge closest to us on the Douro River was occupied by the Runes, and they rushed towards the pier." Morris said worriedly. "They are evacuating."

"What about our people? Didn't I have you ready?" Bai En felt his anger surge.

"The original wounded were all transported away, but" Morris did not continue, but turned to the camp wall, where the area was filled with new wounded.

"Damn, **** it!" Bai En cursed angrily, then raised his finger to the ship docked at the temporary dock. "Are those ships still loaded with supplies? Throw them all away to use for the wounded."

"But those are Margaritas"

"Do what I said!" Bai En shouted loudly.

"Follow your orders, Master." Morris turned around again and trot all the way to the temporary dock.

Bai En feels like a person who is oppressed to retreat to nowhere, or rather, all directions around him are desperate, trust is shaky, and faith is on the verge of destruction. The last thing that keeps him in faith is his team and the most important person for him. But he still insisted that he stood firm against that pressure. He thinks no, he wants to believe that in the end, he can win, he will live and escape from here.

Fatalin has no long history, but they have a **** history. Morris could not count how many people survived and died during this period. And the reason why they often survive is because of the protection of the mages.

But when Bill Barry was besieging the city, he was also on the plains. He and hundreds of colleagues watched the elite of the Masters be torn apart, and the scene had gone beyond despair. Such meaningless casualties are rare in the Fatalin Association.

Moreover, although he is a mage, the faces of those people still emerge around him, surrounding him. Those hopes and despairs are sometimes even fatal obedience. Those faces are like their own mirrors, every time they appear He is challenging his own creed. The feelings and memories of being a master apprentice in those years were blurred, crushed, and replaced by what I saw and heard at the Fatalin Association in those years.

Morris turned over the memories he had buried for years. For Morris, it was a turning point in fate, but for himself, it was only one of countless nightmares. Despite this, it brought him heavy pressure that no other crime had. The reason why he joined the mages was that he was sent here as an apprentice, but he has changed, a complete circle.

"Unload the materials on these ships, or throw them directly into the river, and the empty ships are all used to transport soldiers." Morris shouted to the soldiers on the dock. He understood that this would be another escape.

He noticed that several mages wearing the robes of the Fatalin coat of arms hurriedly jumped into the ship that had just been emptied, and even rebuked the soldiers for sailing even before the ship was full.

Morris was too clear about this kind of thing, because similar things happened to him. Every mage used to be so selfish that he only cared about himself and not anyone else.

Morris even once wanted to be a deserter, to escape the horror he was involved in, but also out of selfishness, and wanted to go away to escape the condemnation of his conscience. But at this point, his mentor denied it he.

Bai En found him the day after the last big túshā. The mentor who seemed to have never looked down on him was sent to convince the Morris army that he still needed him. He still remembers what the mentor said, "Are you going to escape from the guilt of the past forever? Morris, so that your soul will also escape from yourself, and when it comes back, it will kill you."

After that, in order to make his despair no longer grow, the mentor sent him to a team led by an experienced team of night owls, and then he returned to the mage regiment to fight under the command of his mentor. In this way, he was given a second chance.

Too little to accuse or persuade the selfish mage, but raised his head, only to find that the light that had always been in the sky disappeared.

King Fernando Habbs, who had returned to the battle platform, let the earl of Cordoba, beside him, order the horn of retreat. He watched the sudden emergence of the forest elves in the south swiftly cut through a passage in the Cantonian and Margarita formations. Feeling that the goal of his life's struggle has disappeared from his eyes, which makes him suddenly feel tired, and he even has no strength to support himself in a standing position.

But the habit of maintaining his dignity for many years still let him survive. He turned his head, staring at his most trusted and greatest general, his lips shaking, and finally asked what he wanted to ask.

"We failed, right?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty." The Earl of Cordoba bowed his head slightly, apologizing. But nothing changed on his face. "But we must retreat now."

"Are we really unable to win?" King Fernando Habs looked at the euphorbia in the array below. This was the most elite warrior he had cultivated for nearly two decades. But this group of fighters still did not participate in the battle.

"Yes," the Earl of Cordoba said firmly. "The forest elf's participation in the battle caused us to lose the advantage in numbers." He hesitated and continued to explain. "The victories of our cavalry ambushes are irrelevant. If these halberd soldiers are dispatched, we will no longer have the strength to invest in the battlefield."

Count Cordoba raised his hand and pointed in the direction of the forest elf. "Soldier soldiers may be able to stop them, but they will turn around and the Cantonians will be wiped out." He pointed his finger at the Margaritas on the other side ~ www.NovelMTL.com ~ our people may Half alive. But not surprisingly, the Fatalins and Runes will also be eliminated. Eventually we will be trapped here, facing enemies far beyond our strength. "

"How is that different from now?" King Fernando Habs asked questioningly.

"Now retreat, the soldiers on both sides will retreat here, and the Cantonians have the opportunity to withdraw to their camp." The Count of Cordoba continued to explain. "When all the soldiers are here, the enemy may continue to attack, but the soldiers in the rear can be trimmed. I believe we can hold here and wait for the enemy to be tired and give up the idea of ​​continuing the attack."

"What's the point of this," King Fernando Habs lamented.

"We can reduce the loss of troops by at least half. At least tens of thousands of people can survive." Count Cordoba said lightly. "The next time we come here again, there will be 10,000 more soldiers full of hatred from the Pilbaris. Even if we ca n’t return when they can still fight, these people will pass on the hatred and pass here Tell their son, grandson what happened. "

"Hate?" King Fernando Habs murmured to himself. "Ok."

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