Chapter 337: Counterattack on the Border
The pedestrians passing by were no longer a mixed crowd, and the high elf soldiers patrolling the streets gave Sherlock a sense of security. He quickly found a weapons shop and used the remaining money he had to buy an elven civilian longbow and some arrows.
He couldn't go back to Horsell Town to pack up and set off again. West Territory was no longer safe, and he had to leave as soon as possible.
The Empire's army is in Sylvania, and the front line of the war is actually the safest place for him.
Whether it is Stirling or Ostermark, it is better than him staying around Marienburg.
After a simple tidy up, Sherlock decisively fled to the southeast.
Maybe no one cared about Sherlock at all, or maybe Ms. Lina was not as mysterious and powerful as Sherlock imagined, so he never waited for the pursuers.
The noble lady whose face was covered by the silver mask withdrew her gaze towards the southeast. She held a wine glass and calmly watched the chaos on the stage.
Tall, fair-skinned ladies and gentlemen in chef uniforms also joined the dance.
They quickly blend in with others due to their outstanding appearance.
Mortal secrets are freely spilled for a musky whisper.
The gentlest caress is not as good as their simple wave. Their slender and fair figures are smoother than silk, and their neutral beauty is enough to make the most powerful warriors bow down.
Who can maintain himself amidst such intoxicating fragrance?
"Lynch?"
On the steppe between Ostermark and Kislev, a strange creature under the dark clouds whispered the name in a deep and penetrating tone.
The lizardman, who traveled day and night across Kislev, looked towards the south with a little surprise. The unclean creature in the darkness actually knew his name.
"You blood-sucking bastard, I'll give you a word."
"No, no, no, we don't have to fight. Followers of the Old Gods, we are not enemies."
Clearly, it wasted that opportunity.
Lynch lit up the scepter, and in the next moment, his figure that remained in place was torn into afterimages. The horrifying sound of breaking through the air, accompanied by the majestic sunlight, crashed into the tide of undead that were about to step into Kislev.
The evil magic screamed and retreated from the sunlight, and the smoke of undead creatures was torn into bubbles by the pure light, turning into scattered pieces of broken bones and collapsed corpses.
The undead bats in the sky could not withstand the purification of the sunlight and fell down in large numbers, turning the black fog into rain.
Nothing can stop him.
Zombies and skeletons disintegrate in a flash in the sunlight, and Crypt Ghouls disappear like moths to a flame.
Ghouls are cowardly undead spirits that retreat from the battlefield in droves when they realize their companions' sacrifices are meaningless.
They completely ignored the vampire's strict orders and allowed their exasperated master to rage helplessly.
How could a being with a self be willing to die in vain? The Tomb Guards wearing ancient armor were the most trusted guards of the vampires, but their counterattacks were ineffective.
All the uncleanness disappeared under the vast sunshine. Perhaps these warriors in ancient armor were the absolute nightmare of mortals, but Lynch was no longer a mortal.
The enchanted blades of the Tomb Guardians couldn't even get close to the Saurus, who began to combust simply by stepping into the sunlight.
Their heavy armor cannot protect them from the filth within; the sun always purifies the soul, not the heavy armor.
They don't have the inner strength of demons, and the fact that necromancy has desecrated their rest doesn't mean they are as immortal as they appear.
Some terrifying blurry figures pushed a corpse cart made of rotten wood and rusty metal, slowly approaching the light.
Perhaps they thought that the other side was as fragile as the mortals of the empire, and even the fleeing vanguard could not make them turn back.
Each corpse cart is a magnet for the dark arts, and their mere passing can cause corpses to rise again.
But no matter how many corpses stood up, it was useless.
Any undead exposed to sunlight would quickly disintegrate. Their intimidation and enchantment of the living only made Lynch look at the illusion a few more times.
Perhaps the thick smoke and braziers they carry can drive the mage into mental frenzy, perhaps the dimensional stone particles they carry can easily destroy the caster's spirit, but they are facing an enemy that has never been defeated, and Lynch has never been a fragile spellcaster.
The ridiculous tricks of the undead didn't even slow down the Lizard Man's pace, and only the Black Knight summoned by the vampire could cause him some trouble.
These ancient knights, whose slumber was disturbed, launched a fearless charge towards the lizardmen who were advancing like a hurricane, but their futile attack ended in their complete annihilation.
The ugly and tall Grave Wraiths were probably the trump cards of vampires. Groups of descendants of the Strigoi family crashed into the sunlight with their undignified servants. The offspring they created with their degraded blood kiss eventually ended their lowly lives in the sunlight.
Only the descendants of the Strigoi family would create such a pathetic undead in desperation. A normal vampire would not allow a ghoul to bite his blood vessels.
Lynch didn't know why these unfortunate people whose families and countries were destroyed would work for the Castine family of Sylvania.
Crypt Ghouls are a formidable evil to mortals, for they are neither living nor dead.
Perhaps they could cause irresistible damage to More's priests, but they were nothing to Lynch.
Even without relying on the scepter's purification field, he could still deal with the enemy quickly and efficiently. The purification field only accelerated the process.
Just like before, he broke through the army of the undead.
The vampire commander abandoned his army without hesitation and fled in the direction he came from.
Because it is the survivor of the sea, who would not track down the person who caused the disaster after the disaster?
The wailing of its colleagues cannot make it turn back, because it knows the outcome from the beginning.
There was no need to carry out the advance mission. Even the might of the Dread Fleet could not stop the enemy, let alone a feint launched by the province of Sylvania against Kislev. "We will launch a feint to buy you a chance, Cimili. Swear to me that you will deliver the letter to His Majesty Magnus."
"Yes, General, I swear to More that I will deliver the letter to His Majesty even if I die."
Angelo Vineva closed his eyes and opened them after a long period of unspeakable silence.
A champion's guarantee doesn't seem so precious at this time.
He had to let the outside world know that Ostermark was not completely in enemy hands as it seemed.
The enemy was only powerful in name only, the people of Ostermark were still resisting, they had never been conquered.
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
