End of War (Part 1)

The Shalorian soldiers who were surrounded stared at the Faustian soldiers who were less than two steps away from them. The Faustian soldiers also looked at the Shalorian soldiers fiercely, as if they were looking at their prey.

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

.....

The Shalorian soldiers and the Faustian soldiers who surrounded them looked at each other for less than a moment, and all the soldiers launched an attack in unison.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

"Argh!" "Ugh!"

With a swing of his sword, the Shalorian soldiers fell in a circle.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

With another swing of his sword, the Shalorian soldiers who were surrounded fell again.

The battle was not on the same level at all. The resistance of the Shalorian soldiers couldn't even be considered a struggle. Without a strong city wall to rely on, they couldn't do anything against the Faustian soldiers who outnumbered them dozens of times.

Now, there were two to three hundred Shalorian soldiers left in this square, while there were nearly ten thousand Faustian soldiers.

After killing two waves in a row, the Shalorian soldiers shrank again. There were less than fifty of them left. Almost all the ordinary soldiers were dead, and those who were still standing were armoured generals or nobles.

The Shalorian king, whose face was stained with bright red blood, was still standing there with his scepter. This old man's back was straighter than most of the Shalorian nobles present.

Drip, drip. Blood slid down the king's face. It was unknown whether it was his blood or someone else's.

The top of the scepter, which represented the king's power, was also red, with some brain and blood residue on it. It seemed that this king was not an ordinary person.

On the other side, Felippe was coughing non-stop. As he coughed, drops of blood spurted out of his mouth.

Unlike the king who was protected in the center, Felippe was also the first target of the Faustian soldiers. The value of a margrave's head was not low.

"Clap, clap, clap." A burst of applause was heard, and the Faustian soldiers who surrounded them consciously made way for them to walk.

Kenzir held onto his sword as he strode forward. Marmen and Shia followed him on the left and right.

"Old King, you are indeed vigorous despite your age." Kenzir did not know if he was sincerely praising him or taking the opportunity to ridicule him.

Although the Shalorian king was in his fifties, he still smashed the skulls of several Faustian soldiers in a domineering manner.

The Shalorian king looked at Kenzir's high-spirited appearance and couldn't help but sigh. "The younger generation will surpass us in time."

"He has a good son," said the old King. Of course, he was referring to the current king of Faustian. It seemed that the kings of Shalor and Faustian were old acquaintances.

"Surrender, and I'll spare your life!" Kenzir propped up his scabbard and said to the Shalorian king.

"Hahaha." The old king laughed as if he had heard something funny. "Dream on!"

Kenzir ignored the Shalorian king, who was laughing maniacally. He didn't expect the old man to really surrender, so he turned to look at Felippe.

It was not that Felippe had any special characteristics, but Kenzir was just curious.

The three pillars of Shalor, whether it was Clark or Campbell, had left a deep impression on Kenzir. They had also caused indelible losses to the Faustian army. He wanted to see what the last Felippe was like.

Kenzir was disappointed. Felippe did not have a majestic physique, nor did he have an impressive bearing. He was just an ordinary middle-aged man.

If one had to define him, it would be that his sharp eyes made this marquis appear very astute. Kenzir was not surprised by the title of the Marquis.

"In that case." Kenzir turned around and walked towards the hall of the palace.

The prince's faint voice could be heard. "Send the two sirs on their way!"

"Kill!" "Kill!"

"Kill!" "Kill!"

Countless Faustian soldiers rushed towards the surrounded Shalorian king and his party. The remaining Shalorian army also let out a final cry.

Among them, the Shalorian king and Felippe were the most vocal.

Unfortunately, their shouts and resistance could not do anything. After the sound of swords and armour colliding, only a pool of corpses and blood was left on the ground.

.....

At this time, four people were watching the scene in the palace below the city. Everyone's expression changed slightly, and they had different feelings in their hearts.

"It's over!" said a man dressed as a knight among the four.

"Yes... It's over... "sighed the only old man among the four who looked like a caster.

The remaining two did not speak, as if they were just supporting characters. One of them turned out to be the deputy jarl of Falcon, De Sandro, one of the four margraves of Faustian.

What was interesting was that, led by the knight who spoke first, De Sandro and another knight formed a triangle, surrounding the caster in the centre.

"Don't get excited. Since I promised not to do anything, I won't go back on my word." This old man was Shalor's guardian, Magister Kareda.

"The importance that casters attach to oaths is not much less than the faith that you knights follow!" said Kareda.

"It better be so!" Of the three knights, Romm was, of course, the strongest in Faustian.

Unlike Kareda, who had been watching the battle calmly, Romm and the other two around him were much more nervous. They were afraid that the caster would not be able to control himself and cast a large-scale spell.

With the terrifying strength of a Magister, a slightly serious spell could kill and injure thousands of ordinary people.

Faustian had already won. The three knights who stood at the top of Faustian did not want their country and army to suffer any inexplicable losses.

Kareda did not say much and just slowly flew towards the back of the Shalorian palace. He had reached an agreement with Romm, and he could leave safely with his Lehrlings. This was a privilege that belonged to the strong.

Before leaving, Mage Kareda sent a message composed of mental strength to Knight Romm's mind. Knight Romm's lips moved slightly, answering the question in the message composed of mental strength.

After listening, Kareda showed a look of understanding, sighed, and flew down.

Kareda's question was very simple. Marquis Clark was an outstanding Ritter and a genius in the Aomar Empire. How did Faustian manage to kill Marquis Clark?

In the end, the main reason for Shalor's destruction was the failure of the bloody battle in Gordon Heights.

"You killed Clark two years ago. Won't the Hall of Knights look for trouble with you?" This was what Kareda said in his mental power message.

Just like how Magisters would be bound by the Sanctum, powerhouses who had reached the Ritter level would also be registered with the Hall of Knights.

Every Ritter who had reached the Ritter level was a rare and valuable asset. Any loss would attract the attention of the two major organisations.

If there was no legitimate reason, the Hall of Knights would soon issue a punishment to Faustian. It was not impossible to sentence the knights who participated in the killing of Clark to life imprisonment.

Although it was not as protective of Ritters as the Sanctum, the benefits of the Hall of Knights were not low. Otherwise, why would so many Ritters choose to join this organisation?

The answer given by Romm was very simple.

"I actually advanced to an Erdritter two years ago," said Romm. Romm was not an existence close to a level-2 creature, but an Erdritter two years ago.

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