Chapter 134: The Autumn of Adolf (21)
George’s sword did not strike down; the giant sword stopped just a meter away from the golden mask of Gelt. At this distance, for a powerful warrior like George, it was almost like placing the blade against the opponent’s neck.
The golden mask looked at him, the eyes behind it burning with green fire, showing no sign of emotion. The tip of his wand was still shedding something akin to gold powder.
Below, lifelike statues of magical beings and demons shone under the light of the flames. One bloodthirsty demon, over three meters tall, had a massive waist encircled by the heads of knights and battle priests, all powerful figures from the imperial army, with a large blood god mark on its chest, its face fierce, mouth agape in a roar. The overwhelming rage echoed in the air, reverberating in the ears.
But it could never roar; endless fury would not turn it back from gold to flesh. The blood god’s blessing granted them defensive magic could not either.
The knights of Bartow stared in amazement at the miracle before them, unable to look away. The enemies they had just fought to the death were now harmless golden statues, an experience dreamy and surreal. The distant flames cast upon the golden statues reflected their alluring light on the white wings of the silver pegasus, on the bloodied wings of Jima, and on George’s silvery armor.
In an instant, it was as beautiful as a dream, the light shining like the color of hope.
The emperor of the empire held aloft the glowing Sigma Hammer, watching the pegasus and the Mare Patrol soaring into the sky, along with his friend, his eyes watering at the corners.
Jima’s heart raced; she was contemplating whether to secretly smuggle one of the golden statues into her dream palace, treating it as a collection that could be sold for a fortune in emergencies.
By the way, that silver pegasus that flew past just now seemed quite familiar—why did it look a bit like the horse George gifted me?
The reflected golden light covered George’s battle-worn plate armor with a layer of brilliance, making the charred fire-lacquered words of admonition on the armor seem dignified.
The voice from behind the golden mask of Gelt was calm: “Isn’t it magical?”
George nodded.
“Is my alchemy powerful?”
George replied, “Powerful.”
“Then can you move aside? Your wings are too bright, burning my corpse.”
George stepped aside.
The golden mask of Gelt rode the dead silver stallion, continuing toward Sigma Square, where some still had not figured out what had happened and raised their bows at him. The emperor immediately pressed down on their hands, saying:
“He is loyal! Gelt has never betrayed.”
Still, a few arrows flew toward Gelt.
Some shouted loudly, “Gelt has never betrayed!”
The golden mask Gelt opened his five fingers, and the arrows flew into his palm, turning into golden arrows. He waved the golden arrows and shouted:
“Hello everyone! I, Gelt, have returned!”
“Greetings to the emperor! I have brought ten thousand loyal imperial soldiers!”
He circled the Sigma statue on the dead silver stallion, saluting, “Greetings to you too! Sigma.”
The sound of armor clashing while walking converged into a tsunami-like noise as the giant swordsmen of Calun Castle marched in military song, having come from the passage behind Sigma Cathedral to Sigma Square in great numbers.
As they approached, Jima heard the undead soldiers of Calun Castle proclaim:
“For the Empire!”
The tattered flag of Calun Castle, stained with filthy blood, swayed slightly. This was merely a microcosm of the Undead Empire’s army.
Jima understood; she realized why the latecomer, the golden mask Gelt, could awaken so many dead. It was simple because those warriors, who had died in loyalty, remained loyal even in death. Their will to fight to the end against the world-destroying army had not dissipated with mortality.
Jima sighed, “What fragile yet resilient mortals they are.”
Opposite, the Eternal Chosen had assembled his troops; he stood before his dark army, with rows of flags raised behind him.
Jima sneered, “So you were fleeing just now.”
Unfortunately, the distance was too great for the Eternal Chosen to hear. Now the scales of victory began to tilt towards the empire. Yet the Eternal Chosen had no intention of retreating; he strode forward confidently, sword pointed at the emperor of the empire, at the hero Saint George, and at Jima in the sky.
At some point, he met the gaze of Adolf and those guarding him. His gaze no longer crossed over Adolf to shoot toward the distant sky.
If it were me, I would choose to retreat, but he did not. Was it concern for the current chaotic military situation that retreat would incur heavy losses? Or was he unable to let go of his pride? But if he truly wanted to escape, we could not stop him. It was precisely because he could not let go, would not flee, that he would never be able to match me.
Jima tilted her chin, looking down at the Eternal Chosen with superiority as a new wing sprouted from the wound on her back.
The branch axe spear in her hand was clamoring again, though for some reason, it did not repeat the awkward conversation that embarrassed Jima. Instead, its vocabulary dwindled to single digits, shouting phrases like, “Kill! Chop! Cut! Hack!”
The Eternal Chosen swung his sword downward, commanding, “Advance!”
“Four dark gods above!”
“For Sigma!”
The golden mask Gelt waved his wand, spiraling over the heads of the living and shouted: “After we finish this battle! I will turn the enemy corpses into gold as your spoils!”
The Eternal Chosen’s reasons for certain death just grew longer.
She was now full of confidence, having been low on magic and constantly hovering at the edge of the battlefield in search of opportunities.
The two armies clashed head-on in the broad square before Sigma Cathedral, like two knight lances colliding, both parties shattering into pieces.
The imperial undead soldiers rushed forward one after another, completely forgetting death, coordinating with the attacks of the empire’s powerful warriors. The royal guards surrounding the Eternal Chosen suffered heavy casualties, engaged fiercely, bones flying everywhere.
Jima found her opportunity; holding the branch axe spear, she dived down, striking one of the golden statues and cleaving off a golden arm. The branch axe spear let out a hiss.
Despite the chaos of the battlefield, no one noticed that the single demon queen Jima was busy attacking the golden statue; while she was at it, she muttered to herself:
“I can’t help it, I’m low on magic, without combat power, rushing to the front lines only gives opportunities. After all, I’m wearing a crown fragment on my head…”
“What if these golden statues turn back into their original forms? I’m just preventing that from happening.”
As she spoke, Jima openly poured a handcart full of various fragmented gold into the entrance leading to her dream palace.
