I Will Be The Crowned King

"I will be crowned king (

As the roar of the explosion sounded in the forest, Freya's figure was also engulfed by the rising flames.

It is like a kerosene lamp that flickers and goes out, disappearing after the moment of gorgeous bloom, leaving only scorch marks, broken fragments and "traces" blown up by it, plus a strong and choking black cigarette.

In the thick smoke, the charred body of the elf princess was shattered—the delicate and lovely face and head became a pool together, the torso was fused with the charred gown, cloak and metal breastplate, and the completely carbonized limbs were exploding. It was torn apart, with dust and silt scattered all over the place.

Ashes vanished, no flesh and blood left.

Looking at the small half motionless figure at the center of the explosion, Ludwig, who was lying on the ground, reaffirmed that he had made a very correct decision to import infantry equipment from the August munitions factory.

Although it is one-half more expensive than Leiden's grenade, it is definitely worth the extra price in terms of blast radius and power.

It seems that when the supply line is opened, we will find a way to replenish a batch of infantry equipment produced by the August military factory... Ludwig thought to himself.

In the forest next to him, Roman, who was coughing violently, got up from the ground, threw away the only knife handle left in his hand and walked towards him.

The commander of the grenadier looked very embarrassed at the moment - the helmet was missing, and the uniform on his body was too torn. He was covered with a stench of dark red viscous liquid from head to toe, and the exposed skin on his right hand Severe burn marks remain...

But his eyes were still sharp, and his stern face revealed a kind of calmness that neither took the lives of others nor his own.

Reaching out his hand to help Ludwig up from the ground, the expressionless Roman stood upright, and gave an extremely standard military salute to the commander-in-chief:

"General."

"How is the Legion?" Ludwig returned to the military salute and immediately went straight to the topic.

"The first attack of the enemy has been repelled."

Roman replied in a deep voice immediately, neither of them mentioned what had just happened: "The baggage and wounded have been counted, and the loss of the entire legion is about a quarter."

"The two infantry regiments have been completely incapacitated, and the rest of the infantry regiments have each lost one company to half a battalion. There are about 2,000 lightly wounded, and severely wounded... I haven't gotten the statistics yet, but it shouldn't be. too much."

"Because the shelling mainly targeted our army's camps and peripheral positions, the formation of each infantry regiment was severely damaged. Many troops could no longer maintain their original formation and had to be disbanded and reorganized. In particular, middle and lower-level officers suffered serious casualties and needed to be replenished as soon as possible."

"At the end of the first round of the enemy's offensive, we failed to break through our army's defense line, and he was so angry that he used the caster. Our army's ordinary line infantry tried to stop it, but suffered heavy casualties. In the end, they could only gather grenades and shrapnel, and conduct a point-to-point encirclement and kill... The guards were killed three times in a row. two-thirds."

Ludwig's breathing was a little short, and Roman's report continued:

"One-half of the logistical reserves and two-thirds of the ammunition were destroyed by the enemy's artillery fire. There is only one base of all types of artillery shells left, and they have all been exhausted in the blocking battle just now."

"After the first round of the offensive, I collected as much loot and weapons as possible to ensure that each infantryman had about a day's ration left, and ammunition that could last for one or two battles."

"At present, the enemy is temporarily encircling our army's peripheral positions, and the main force's command system is in a semi-paralyzed state. It is completely unable to effectively block our army's operations, and there is no sign of organizing a new round of attacks."

"Since the enemy has been unable to launch a new offensive, then organize a retreat immediately." Ludwig said calmly:

"March urgently, try to rush to the cliff fortress within one day!"

"The baggage soldiers and the lightly wounded are counting and sorting out the baggage, and the vanguard and skirmishers have officially started." Roman said without changing his face:

"According to the action plan, the leading troops will arrive at the cliff fortress at 15:30 tomorrow, and the rear troops will arrive at the cliff fortress at 17:00!"

Before he finished speaking, there was a neighing sound not far from the woods; Draco, riding a burgundy horse, came here, with another military horse of the same color behind him.

Looking at the figure who hurriedly flipped off the saddle, the two stopped talking very tacitly.

"I thought you would never come back, Lord Draco Wilts."

Ludwig looked at the embarrassed novelist somewhat mockingly, and the corner of his mouth showed a relaxed arc: "Why, I thought the previous cell was uncomfortable, so I want to replace it with a roof with iron fences on all sides?"

Draco, who was shivering with his shoulders in his arms—his clothes were either stripped or charred—surprisingly ignored the commander-in-chief's mockery, and after trotting all the way over, he immediately leaned against the tree trunk beside him, gasping for breath. The heartbeat slowed down a little, and the first sentence was: "Where's the elf princess?!"

"Dead." Ludwig said coldly.

"Dead?!" Draco's eyes widened first, then his whole body jolted:

"You... are you sure?!"

"I killed her with my own hands."

Roman frowned slightly and looked at him: "The head is gone, the rest is there. If you don't believe me, you can see it yourself."

Draco's expression froze, and as soon as he finished speaking, he got up and pushed Roman Reigns away, and walked towards the center of the explosion.

In the next second, his face turned pale, and there was no blood at all.

"What's up?"

Ludwig's eyes also became serious.

"No! No, no, no..." The pale-faced novelist suddenly raised his head, holding his head and looking around nervously:

"wrong!"

"What's wrong?" Roman, who opened his mouth, took half a step forward, blocking Ludwig behind him, his burned right hand holding the spare bayonet handle on his trouser leg.

"Nothing is right!"

Draco with a hysterical expression didn't answer Roman's question at all. The whole figure jumped up like a demon, holding his head, and the big cold sweat began to "crash" from his forehead again.

In the dark woods, Roman and Ludwig looked at each other, watching the novelist stand alone and go mad.

"How's the retreat going?" Ludwig, who was completely too lazy to pay attention to this guy, simply continued the topic just now:

"According to the fastest speed, how long will it take for the rear troops to set off?"

"About an hour later."

Roman took a deep look at Draco, who was still hysterical, and replied in a deep voice: "I left the remaining one-third of the guard company and the grenadier regiment at the front of the position as scouts, sending them every five minutes. The rear troops will report once to ensure that the evacuating troops will not be pursued by the enemy."

"Try to ensure smooth communication. The retreating troops have the drummer and bugle player beating the drums non-stop, and don't waste time." Ludwig nodded slightly:

"If necessary, I will personally direct the rear troops..."

"She's still alive!"

The hysterical Draco turned suddenly and interrupted him with a scream: "Talia Mosesfield...she's alive!"

"not dead?!"

Ludwig was startled at first, then he grabbed Draco's collar and pointed at the coke on the ground angrily: "Then tell me, what is this?!"

"Uh…"

The novelist's cheeks twitched, and he stammered in panic and said, "That... have you ever told you that the casters of the Ysir...are not the same as our human beings?"

"They don't do it through rituals, or prayers or anything - of course I've heard it all, I'm not an old **** - their way is emotion, extreme emotion, that will awaken a creature with elven blood in its body... The power of one of the three old gods."

"The awakening of this kind of power has great uncertainty and is often directly related to one's own emotions - in simple terms, for example, the key to an elf's awakening power is anger, then the more angry she is, the more likely her power is ... er... the stronger."

Ludwig was stunned.

"Then... do you know the casters of Iser Elf, or the Council of Thirteen... what do they use to classify their ranks?" Draco swallowed and looked at the two carefully:

"The caster of the Isel Elf, the higher the purity of the bloodline, the stronger and more extreme the power when awakening the talent of the caster; and there are often spellcasters who have just awakened, and their strength is comparable to the level of the blasphemous mage. You should know... right?"

"Then Freya Mosesfield... Her father is the Elf King, and her mother is the cousin of the Elf King. It can probably be considered as one of the few Iser elves with the 'purest' blood in the entire Iser kingdom."

"So...even though I really want to believe it, I believe that the two of you have really killed this evil old sect but..." Draco laughed harder than he cried:

"But for the sake of the Ring of Order, I sincerely remind the two of you, don't take things so simple... She... It's not so simple."

"Then this... what is it?!"

Staring at the corpse that had been blown into coke on the ground, Roman couldn't help but said.

"I don't know, I really don't know!" Draco shook his head desperately, the fear in his eyes continued to magnify:

"But if that Highness has awakened to become a Blasphemer-level conjurer - which is very likely, by the way - the limitations that things like casting distance limitations can impose on her... are actually very small."

The silent Ludwig and Roman looked at each other.

"How long will it take for the troops to evacuate?" Ludwig looked at Roman suddenly.

"One hour!" Roman's expression was extremely solemn.

"Too slow, forty-five..." Ludwig suddenly changed his words:

"No, thirty minutes! Thirty minutes at the latest, let all troops retreat across the board and march quickly!"

"Yes!"

The moment the voice fell, there was a sudden burst of thunder on the ground in the distance.

The three people in astonishment raised their heads almost at the same time, looking at the dazzling light that slowly rose above their heads.

Sky…

burning.

 …

"You guys are really good at proving your incompetence, scumbags."

The calm Freya Mosesfield stood in front of the artillery position, looking down at the shivering Iser generals who were kneeling on the ground.

"Two months of preparation, 20,000 soldiers, a hundred artillery pieces, thousands of shells, dozens of good spellcasters...and tens of thousands of people who made sure these were here on time, and then...just give me this result?"

"Let Ludwig and his lackeys retreat calmly?"

"Very good, very good... You scumbags, you have given me another sufficient reason to completely abandon you; your incompetence has allowed our enemies to easily defeat us without even having to pay much."

The elf girl said coldly.

"They still have talents and artillery!" The shivering elf general emphasized:

"Our attack was interrupted by their artillery fire. If it weren't for the enemy's artillery not being destroyed, we must have been..."

"So it's my fault, isn't it?" Freya interrupted suddenly.

"No, dare not!"

The elf general was stunned and decisively poked his head into the soil, his body trembling violently like a sieve.

"No, it was my mistake."

The Princess Elf's expression was still calm, she squatted down on one knee, and gently caressed the chin of the Elf General with her weak and boneless hands, slowly holding up that textbook "what is fear" face , so that the other party can look at your own four eyes:

"I gave you so much trust that you were overwhelmed... right?"

"No no no... Your Highness, I..."

"I saw when Louis was still around, you don't really want that much trust; you make him a hero, a savior; not because you believe in him, but because you need a savior, a . . . so you don't have to do A savior who can enjoy victory and glory in anything."

"No! I was wrong! I was really wrong, I-"

"You are such scum, dust... The brilliance you have bloomed is all due to dear Louis; without him, you all deserve to be killed by the Clovis in Eagle Point."

"I, we..."

"Now that you know the news that he is still alive, you must be very happy too - the savior is still alive, and you can continue to be incompetent, continue to be like you used to be... ignorant and arrogant, wantonly trampling and enjoying everything the savior brings."

"I beg you, I will never dare, never again..."

"But the Savior needs sacrifices... You, they, are sacrifices; I'm so happy now, Louis is still alive! I want to celebrate, I want everyone to share my joy!" Freya smiled:

"Can you understand, that kind of feeling that the blood in Happy Dao's whole body is boiling?"

"I…"

"Why don't you feel it?"

"No no no no... I, I really don't... ah ah ah ah!!"

A mournful howl exploded from the elf general's throat, and the skin all over his body suddenly glowed with golden red light—the light that burned everything.

On the earth, the sun rose.