Lord of the Oasis

Waiting for the final battle.

Even now, the fighting on the battlefield is extremely tragic, with fallen flowers everywhere, the earth is stained with blood, and the strong smell of blood has turned this place into a slaughterhouse.

But in fact, the real climax of the battle has yet to come, and both sides are waiting.

Gibran watched coldly.

Just watched the semi-demonized believer army that he had cultivated with great effort and painstakingly be slowly wiped out.

These mad believers who could easily defeat the East County Leader and nearly 10,000 elite troops were slowly ground to death by the troops led by Kant, like grinding discs, they were crushed head-on and suppressed with absolute numbers.

Those half-demonized knights were almost wiped out.

no way.

There were too many Salander cavalry surrounding the group of knights.

Mamluks, Salander riders, and desert robbers rushing up on their backs surrounded the members of these knights, and even if they fought for their lives, the number of knights and knight servants in these knights plummeted.

What's more, there were the fanatical foot soldiers who were being beaten.

They don't have a good defense.

Under that black robe, most of the protection is only leather armor, not even armor.

It's just a group of fanatical believers gathered, holding a long sword and a hatchet in their hands, relying on the power given by the devil, turning into a terrifying semi-demon state, fighting with brute force and madness.

Under the frontal counterattack of the elite Rhodok sergeant and the senior Rhodok spearman, the casualties were heavy!

Covered by several rounds of arrow rain.

Bombed by two more rounds of spells.

By means of the defensive counterattack like the porcupines of the Rhodoks.

The number of these mad believers dropped sharply faster, and there were also more mad believers who died in battle, eventually turning into corpses all over the ground, and all of them died in that layer of encirclement.

These fanatics are not qualified legionnaires, but they are excellent warriors.

All killed and no one fled back.

Extremely heroic.

But Kant smiled sarcastically.

Of course, he understood that this was not real heroism, but a behavior that came from the intensified madness and bloodthirsty in his heart, after he completely lost his reason.

All are still standing on the battlefield in the end, the solitary figure.

Viscount Gibran.

Caused!

The blood mist is already extremely thick, because the ground outside this death penalty mountain has been penetrated by blood like a low-lying area.

There are corpses everywhere, and the blood flowing from the corpses is everywhere, like a small river, like a stream, more like a puddle, more like a swamp, more like a hell that sinks forever!

The battle has temporarily ended with the death of all enemy troops at the foot of the execution mountain.

Only Gibran remained in the Dark Red Sect.

Just standing alone.

But no one dared to move forward, because the thick blood mist was almost like a substance, entangled around him, and more and more, superimposed, like a terrifying demon from hell.

Besture turned back to Kant.

The desert robbers with more than a thousand people still scattered around the battlefield slowly.

The Mamluks and Salander riders, who had lost more than half of their losses, also lined up in a charge formation and aimed at Gibran from the side, waiting for an order from Kant to charge again.

Including the Rhodoks as well.

Array of broad shields and spears.

Low wall molding.

All of them were expressionless, stepping on the corpses of their companions or fanatics, moving slowly, and lined up in the direction of Gibran, forming a dense phalanx that they were most proud of on weekdays.

Surrounded by senior Rhodok crossbowmen and Ravenston rangers.

The bowmen spread out.

A skirmish line.

The heavy crossbow and war bow in hand are ready.

Aiming ahead at any time, Gibran, who was less than 300 meters away, carried out rounds of arrow rain coverage.

If they want to, they can shoot directly now. After all, for these most elite bowmen, 3oo meters of long-range shooting is still a fixed standing target.

Hits are no problem.

But Kant gave no order to attack.

He gripped the hilt of the sword.

This king's sword released a faint golden light.

A strong positive energy filled his heart and soul, and it diffused out faintly, blessing the surrounding troops, forming a force that seemed to be substantive, as if it was about to crush Gibran.

But a faint force from the ground made Gibran insist.

Do not.

exactly.

It was the power infiltrated by the towering and precipitous death penalty mountain behind me!

The ground has turned into a muddy battlefield like a slaughterhouse, the corpses of the countless dead, the remaining resentful souls, penetrated by the medium, and imposed the power on Gibran!

Lord of the Demons of Hell, Lord of Sin, Flamethrasher, Florence!

Kant still remembers the title.

He will not forget.

Because when Gibran said this name, Kant knew that his real enemy was the abyss demon lord who was sealed in the ground in this ancient period!

"Whoa whoa whoa-"

The wind blows.

It was a gust of wind from the death penalty mountain, emerging in the void.

However, this gust of wind carried an extremely deep negative energy, roaring towards the direction of Gibran, who had been entangled in the blood mist, almost eight meters high, and then accompanied by a faint smile, the blood mist A figure appeared.

Dark appearance, faint firelight, flamboyant and hideous goat horns.

"Devil of the Abyss."

Kant spoke softly.

He is no stranger to the eagerly formed figure condensed in the blood mist.

Once in the ancient passage, he led the still weak troops to fight the abyss demon lord who had been sealed for ten thousand years, and had just escaped from trouble and had not received much replenishment.

It was that battle that made Kant understand that the world is not that simple.

Now I have encountered it again.

But it's not much different from before.

This demon may be powerful, but Kant leads his troops to be even more powerful!

5o mages of the Ainfath Empire.

3o Lion Knights of Sarion Kingdom.

2o royal knights of the kingdom of Swadia.

These top-level ordinary troops are completely the real elites who are separated from the conventional troops. It is Kant who can come here, as a trump card, to brazenly play the trump card against the death penalty mountain battle!

"Hahahaha-"

The terrifying figure broke free from the blood mist.

In other words, the blood mist was steamed, and the fiery blood-colored flames burned on the huge demon body mountain, from the goat's horned head, to the sturdy legs, and the longer ones behind him, still whipping. ground tail.

And in the hand, that tightly held, a long whip composed of scarlet blood-colored flames.

Demon Lord from Death Mountain.

Florence! ()

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