Chapter 616 Sunrise

There was chaos in front of him, no wonderful dreams, only darkness. He didn't know how long he had spent in it. When Vokrik woke up again, it was almost sunset. His eyes were all blurry and he found himself leaning against a big rock.

There was a road in front of him, with busy citizens and soldiers coming and going on the road. The soldier who saved him was nowhere to be seen. He might have abandoned him here.

Supporting his still heavy head, Vokrick took off his helmet with great effort. When he looked at the helmet again, there was a noticeable dent on it.

Vokrick gritted his teeth, struggled to stand up, walked a few steps and found a canal. There, Vokrick found a bucket, filled it halfway with water, and drank two sips first.

At this time, he saw his reflection in the water through the dim light.

His face was covered in blood, and there was a large bruise on his forehead, right where his helmet was.

"What a cruel bastard! He was planning to kill me right then!" Vokrick sighed, and took some water from the bucket to wash his face and the bloodstained helmet.

Walking on the road, taking advantage of the night, miraculously, Attila's army stopped attacking. So, this was a crucial moment, and the Romans naturally could not relax.

Soldiers and citizens were coming and going on the streets, carrying stones and wood. At the bridgehead and on the river bank, the soldiers built a wall more than 1.5 meters high as a line of defense.

Vokrick walked slowly to the bridgehead, where the soldiers stationed with torches in their hands saluted hastily when they saw him coming.

"How is it now? I mean the current defense." Wokrick really didn't know how to talk to these strange soldiers. He still asked a question hesitantly, and then stood on the bridgehead defense line.

On the opposite side, a large number of barbarians were standing on the other side of the bridge. They had made many attacks for this purpose, as could be seen from the corpses scattered all over the bridge.

"How many times did the barbarians attack?"

Seeing the corpses on the ground made Wokrick's face gloomy. For a moment, the gloom on his face disappeared, replaced by solemnity.

"We need to add more stones to strengthen the foundation here." Vokrik said to the soldiers, pointing downwards.

"But we don't know you, sir." A soldier said warily, "We don't know your true identity yet."

"Yes, maybe it's a barbarian spy, isn't it?" the soldiers said, raising their spears and pointing them at Vokrik in front of them.

"Yeah, you really don't understand me."

Vokrick came closer to the fire, took off his helmet, showing the bruise on his forehead, and said to the soldiers: "I am just a Roman who suffered a loss on the city wall, but I will fight with you at dawn tomorrow and then avenge the damage caused to me by the barbarians at noon today."

Inside the cathedral, Bishop Anenus kneels before a cross carved with God and a statue of the crucifixion of Jesus.

Anenus was kneeling on the stage, wearing a plain robe, and now he looked more like a devout believer than ever before.

"God, I beg you to have mercy on your devout believers, let us be saved, saved, yes, send down your army to bless Orleans, yes, bless Rome!"

Even though Bishop Anenus prayed again and again, Jesus still hung his head slightly to one side, as if he died in a deep sleep.

Did he hear Anenus's prayer? No one knew. He was the only one in the church, and his heart was as dark as the setting sun.

At dawn the next day, a sharp horn sounded all around.

"Come and see, come and see!"

The soldiers' shouting woke up Wokrick, who was sleeping alone in the corner of the street.

It was just dawn and the sun hadn't come out much yet. Everything was hazy.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes and saw a large group of soldiers holding spears and swords running towards the "city wall".

Wokrick was the first to sense a sense of crisis. He quickly stood up and followed the large force to the defense line at the bridgehead.

At this time, the place was already crowded with soldiers. They wore rusty helmets, held spears, and crowded together in chaos. Archers also stood on the walls and roofs. More soldiers held javelins, ready to fight against the barbarians who might attack at any time.

But the barbarians were not as impulsive as they were yesterday, thinking that they could defeat the Romans in Orleans by using their huge numbers and the fear they brought, but they failed.

At this time, the Romans only saw the barbarians on the other side of the river pushing catapults into the streets.

At the bridgehead, a large number of captives were kneeling there, and behind them were barbarians holding shining iron swords.

Attila was standing on the other side of the river, surrounded by tribal leaders, sitting in a tall and magnificent carriage. He was not tall, wearing black armor, a black iron helmet inlaid with gold, and a long black harness protruding from the helmet that hung down to his chest.

Seeing him like this, not only Vokrik, but also the soldiers beside and behind him, all stared with eyes wide open, looking at the Hun who was so close to them that they were filled with infinite fear, in an incredible manner.

The latest novel is published first on Liu9shuba!

Attila raised his right hand slightly, and his soldiers saw what he was doing and immediately grasped the hilt of the iron sword with both hands and raised it above their heads.

"Are they going to kill the prisoners?"

A soldier exclaimed, and his surprise caused panic among the people around him. After all, using brutal means to treat prisoners of war was something both the Romans and the barbarians were good at and loved to do.

Attila raised his hand and chopped it down fiercely again. At the same time, his soldiers swung down their iron swords at the same time, tying up the prisoners who were unable to move.

At that moment, all the witnesses trembled involuntarily.

Last night's bloodstains solidified on the ground, but soon new bright red blood appeared.

Heads rolled down one after another and were kicked into the clear river by other barbarians with grins. Headless bodies gushing blood fell to the ground like helpless puppets, and the corpses were still shaking.

"Oh my God, oh my God!"

The soldiers exclaimed, pointing at the horror they were witnessing.

"Don't be fooled by them. That's the fear they spread." Vokrik roared loudly, snatched the shield of the soldier next to him, drew out the iron sword, and kept hitting it, trying to attract the attention of everyone present.

"Don't be intimidated by their swords. If you are afraid, you will be killed by them in the same way. So, take up arms and resist! Resist!"

The citizens and soldiers were all silent, looking at the man who kept shouting in front of them. They didn't know what to do, so they just looked at Walkerik silently.

"We will be redeemed in the end, but God needs to see our courage when we are redeemed!" said Wokrick, grinding the iron sword in his hand, "They came with God's question. The answer is under our swords, so let us answer this question!"

(End of this chapter)