fall

Passing through trees and boulders, Locke ran towards the dense forest in the north with a person on his back. However, Locke didn't slow down at all. He only left an afterimage wherever he passed. Perhaps it was a matter of life and death, but Locke's speed had exceeded his limit.

If Locke's speed was like the wind, then the blood-red armored man behind him, Kashir, was like lightning. Unlike Locke, who was constantly running, Kashir leaped forward. Every time he landed on a tree or rock, he would stomp his feet and widen the distance between him and the next tree or rock by leaps and bounds.

Not only was Kashir faster than Locke, but he was also much more elegant than Locke.

After passing through obstacles, Locke approached a large mountain in front of him. The mountains on both sides of the mountain were lush. Unlike the yellow leaves in late autumn, the mountains in the distance were different. Locke was now nearly three kilometres away from the place where Blood Red and the Faustian soldiers were fighting. In a short period of time, Locke had run so far.

The figures of Sauron, Hans, Kane and the others were already the size of rice grains in the distance. Locke still didn't relax. The huge and oppressive aura behind him was still approaching.

"Give up!" Kashir said as he looked at Locke, who was still trying to struggle in front of him. "It's meaningless for you to do this," Kashir advised without slowing down. He was also a little unhappy. Unlike Leit, who was stronger than him, Kashir had only been a high-rank Knecht for less than a year. His foundation was still unstable, and he couldn't squander his impetus like Leit. As a smart master, Kashir had to preserve enough strength on the way back. This was also the reason why he lived the longest in Blood Red.

Locke didn't answer and just ran. Anyone who stopped at this time would be a fool. Locke wasn't a greenhorn who had just joined the army. How could he be deceived by Kashir? Even if it was meaningless, Locke had to fight for it.

"Damn it!" Seeing that Locke didn't slow down, Kashir sped up to catch up. He couldn't waste any more time.

As a high-rank Knecht, Kashir channeled his impetus into his legs and arms. A stream of impetus gushed out from his feet and instantly shortened the distance between them to less than ten metres. Kashir unleashed a tenth of his total impetus in exchange for a burst of speed.

The strong wind behind him made Locke's ears hurt. He was less than twenty meters away from the top of the mountain, but this distance seemed to be useless because it was impossible for him to escape.

The corners of Kashir's mouth curled into a smile under his mask. He wanted to twist the head of this insignificant character who wasted his time. As for Princess Angelina, Kashir didn't have any special hobbies. Unlike Leit, who loved to kill, only women were his few hobbies. Angelina's holy appearance tempted Kashir. He planned to leave a memorable night for Angelina as punishment for daring to run away.

Kashir, who was ready to enjoy the fruits of his victory, started to think about his ambitions later. Locke, who was in front of him, seemed to have seen something. His body suddenly trembled and he sped up even though he was already at his limit. Kashir was quite surprised to see that Locke could still struggle like this, but his expression immediately turned a little ugly. He knew why Locke was like this.

A cliff? He didn't expect it to be a cliff. The back of this mountain was not as steep as the other side. There were no trees or rocks. Behind the mountain was an endless forest in the distance, and close to it was a bottomless abyss.

Locke felt like he hadn't climbed these few kilometers of mountain road. Based on the slope of the mountain, Locke didn't know how to calculate the altitude of the mountain, but it didn't prevent him from roughly knowing how high the mountain was. Not to mention the crimson-armored man behind him, even an iron man would turn into a discus if he fell from this height.

Locke didn't want to fall into the hands of the crimson-armored man. When he saw the cliff in front of him, he thought of committing suicide. Locke was afraid of death, but at the same time, he wasn't afraid of death. He was afraid that his loved ones wouldn't be able to settle down after his death. However, he had seen too many deaths in the war for more than four years. He had long expected this day to come, but he didn't expect it to be so soon. One day ago, he was a high-spirited platoon jarl, but the next day, he was a pitiful wretch about to be killed. Life, ah, life. Locke, who had never read a book, suddenly sighed with emotion. It turned out that people would think so much before they died.

Even if I die, I won't let you get what you want! That was what Locke thought. Those people's target was obviously Angelina, who was on his back. They had killed so many of Locke's comrades. During his four years in the army, Locke knew almost every soldier in the camp. Those who were killed by the Blood Red soldiers just now were even his own brothers.

Locke ran straight to the cliff at the side of the mountain. Kashir cursed and hurried to catch up with him. Unfortunately, the two were still more than ten meters away. The cliff appeared too suddenly, and neither of them had the slightest bit of preparation. Locke's determination to commit suicide left Kashir helpless despite his strength.

Finally, when Locke reached the edge of the cliff, the tip of Kashir's sword was less than two meters away from Locke and Angelina. The two meters were like a natural moat. After Locke jumped, he was in front of Kashir. The moment Locke jumped off the cliff, he looked back at Kashir. The gloomy Kashir hurriedly stopped in his tracks and glared at Locke fiercely under his mask. Locke smiled.

As expected, Kashir did not jump with him. However, Locke was also a little disappointed. If only this guy could die with him.

Of course, Kashir refused to jump off the cliff. As a Blood Red jarl, he had both strength and power. Why would he choose to die? It was just that he couldn't complete the mission and he couldn't report to the king. Thinking about the possible consequences, Kashir's mood worsened.

It was all because of these guys. Kashir looked back at the Blood Red and Faustian soldiers who were still fighting at the foot of the mountain in the distance. Holding his longsword tightly, Kashir rushed down the mountain where the battle was still going on. He needed death and blood to calm his raging heart. As for the possibility of Faustian increasing the number of troops, he had forgotten about it. Very few people on the battlefield could remain calm from beginning to end. Even Kashir, who was known as the strategist by Blood Red, did not think about what would happen next. As for Locke and Angelina who had fallen off the cliff, even Locke would die if he were to fall from such a height. There was no way those two beginner-level ants could survive!

"Lord Wyr, it's in that direction!" One of the two soldiers sent by Solon to look for Cardoj and Wyr had met Wyr, who was leading the cavalry platoon. Unlike infantry, it was difficult to move in the dense forest, so the cavalry platoon led by Wyr didn't go far after separating from Solon, Cardoj, and the others.

Wyr grabbed the soldier with one hand and whipped his horse in the direction he pointed. Behind him, the cavalry followed. This was Cardoj's most precious unit and also his most powerful unit. Cardoj's cavalry platoon was quite famous even among the private armies of the major nobles in 2nd Division. After all, they had a high-rank Knecht as their jarl, majestic warhorses and excellent cavalry. Others couldn't help but be envious of the jarl of the cavalry platoon and the marquis of the kingdom as his father-in-law.

Wyr was different from the short-sighted Solon and the platoon jarls like Locke and Karl who had limited knowledge of magic. As a knight who had traveled and lived in the Aomar Empire for many years, Wyr had a deep understanding of the status of a caster. Even though he was a high-rank Knecht, he had to be respectful to a low-rank Lehrling. Knights paid attention to their own cultivation and mainly relied on themselves. Casters, on the other hand, relied on inheritance. Every caster was likely to be supported by a group of casters. They might be seniors or seniors. A caster who was being hunted in the deep forest was no small fry, be it the caster herself or the person who was chasing her.

Although Wyr wasn't afraid of trouble, he didn't like to stir up trouble either. Had he been there, he would have stayed out of the way and stayed as far away as he could. Cashel's subordinate was a low-level Magician, so Will didn't think much of him. He'd seen Magicians more terrifying and ridiculous than this one, but the strange thing was, this one's level was exceptionally low.

When it came to casters, most knights would choose to stay away from them like Wyr did.

As they got closer and closer to the place where the Blood Red soldiers and Faustian soldiers were fighting, Wyr could feel a strong murderous aura and the smell of blood from afar. Apart from Wyr's horse, the horses of the other cavalrymen were snorting uneasily. Beasts had a very sensitive sense of smell. Apart from Wyr, who could sense it with his strength, the other horses could smell it. The cavalrymen scolded their horses to keep quiet. As experienced cavalrymen, they naturally knew what their comrades had discovered and were prepared for what might happen next. They gripped their lances tightly. The forest wasn't suitable for the use of lances, but fortunately, there weren't many branches and the leaves were yellow and dry, so it didn't affect them much.

When the platoon approached, Leit and Kashir were slaughtering ordinary Faustian soldiers. There were more than two hundred Faustian soldiers, but less than fifty of them were still alive and all of them were injured. Half of the Blood Red soldiers had fallen. Leit and Kashir hadn't completed their mission this time, so they had to do something. Otherwise, not everyone would be able to bear the king's wrath. This group of Faustian soldiers was their sacrificial offering.

What Wyr saw at this moment was the scene of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. In order to protect Solon, Cardoj had left half of the soldiers to be led by Solon. In other words, this group of Blood Red soldiers had slaughtered one-third of Cardoj's troops. This also meant that nearly one-third of the ordinary civilians in Cardoj's domain had lost their sons, husbands and brothers.

"Kill!" Wyr was furious. He no longer cared about the origin of this group of Blood Red soldiers. He used his actions to prove his determination.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! " Behind Wyr, hundreds of cavalrymen roared at the same time. Seeing their brothers who lived and fought with them being slaughtered, anger rose in every soldier's heart.

-----

There's an interesting thing to share with you. When I was a freshman, my counselor said, "In previous years, it was the freshmen who swept the snow." When I was a sophomore, my counselor said, "This year, the academy has decided that the freshmen and sophomores will be responsible for the snow sweeping." This year, I'm a junior. The counselor said, "In previous years, it was the freshmen and sophomores who swept the snow. This year, it's your turn!"

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