Chapter 9 Declaration
Perturabo has reason to believe that the enemies of Lokos have sent their best troops, even though he still does not know where these enemies come from.
The enemies not only come from the shadows on the side of the mountain, there are also small black dots moving quickly on the top of the mountain beside the road.
The arrows accumulated momentum from high places and pierced downwards. Some of them pierced into the dry earth, and some of them were bounced off by the shields of the Lokos. The Lokos guarded them as quickly as possible to get out of the open area and find cover.
Perturabo was curiously not worried about getting hurt, probably because Morse was there.
He tried to dissuade himself from trusting this unreliable and perverted craftsman, but the attempt was not very successful. So he gave up and cursed in his mind in some vaguely remembered Gothic language.
Several soldiers holding long knives suddenly jumped out from a sharp corner. The helmets on their heads looked funny like an upside-down iron bowl, and some small iron rings in series covered their heads for protection. The silver plate-like breastplate reflected dazzling light from time to time.
However, such a simple protection miraculously blocked the Lokos people from carrying bullets that crackled and exploded with lightning, draining their energy and forcing the Lokos guards to fight in close combat with their swords.
The leader named Miltiades roared and held his spear to fight: "Lord Mors, Lord Perturabo, please rest assured. The Lokos will never let you get hurt."
The soldiers on the opposite side did not hesitate to shout loudly to boost their morale, and rushed towards them with long swords in hand.
There were not many of them, only five of them, and they happened to meet up with Lokos one by one, and fell directly into a close fight. The archers on the mountain stopped shooting. It was obvious that they could not accurately shoot the enemies in close combat, and they had no intention of harming Morse and Perturabo.
The enemy is here to rob them, like robbing precious cargo and proof of glory.
Perturabo doesn't know if he should do something. It seems that he shouldn't stand back when others are fighting for him, but now he neither has the skills to kill the enemy with a sword nor the skills in his hands. No weapons.
"Morse." He called Morse's name, involuntarily bringing anxiety to his tone.
Morse was rubbing his chin, watching the battle in front of him with too much indifference, his disheveled hair looking darker in the night.
Soon, he said: "Who do you think will win?"
Perturabo opened his mouth in surprise: "You mean?"
Morse nodded, unexpectedly He sat down on the ground and held his head with one hand, making it clear that he had no intention of participating in the battle.
Not far in front of him, a pile of soldiers' blood was splashing into the air, accompanied by more injuries and shouts.
"I think Lokos will lose." Morse said, "They are at a disadvantage in numbers, and these attackers have long-range support. Maybe Lokos soldiers are elite, but there is not enough difference in individual strength between the two. When they are huge, the Lokos can only fulfill their vow of battle by dying."
He invited Perturabo to sit down, but the boy refused by standing up straight.
"Do something, Morse." He spoke to Morse with all his composure. "You can change the entire battle with just a finger, using your unknown ability."
He didn't understand why Morse could be so calm, their defenders were bleeding.
The enemy suddenly let out a loud cheer, the strong bloody smell spread out, and Perturabo clenched his fist tightly.
"My lords, believe in Lokos!" Miltiades's cry was combined with some kind of grief.
Then the shouts of the enemy rose above the weakening roars of the Lokos.
A big warrior holding a round shield laughed wildly: "God-given Qadisiya boy, the Kingdom of Ax welcomes you! The weak Lokos can give you the status and power , we Akers can give you more! Look, Lokos can only bleed, but we Akers are invincible!"
Morse suddenly laughed, and his smile lit up his whole body. Make a face. He looked at Perturabo with burning eyes: "Look, Lokos is not the only one who welcomes you."
Perturabo's anxiety solidified on his face. Another thought was born in his heart, and he suddenly understood the reason why Morse sat still.
Despite this, Calm still failed to find Perturabo.
Morse invited him to sit down again, and Perturabo shook his head violently.
“Look at these people.” Morse was persuasive. “Look at their armor, the sharp peaks on their round helmets, the flower-stem-like nose guards, the beautiful combination of chain armor and plate armor, and the super An unusually advanced shield energy source. What can you see from it? I saw the hot flames in countless craftsmen's furnaces, as well as the developed mining, forging, and agricultural and animal husbandry industries that support the army. A perfectly functioning machine, and welcomes you as much as Lokos."
At this point, Morse raised the corner of his mouth, and there was some irony in his words: "No, they welcome you more than Lokos. You, because Lokos seems to have changed from welcoming you to welcoming me." The invitation from the Akers continues: "Boy! You will shine brightly in Akers as a brave warrior who kills beasts! Brilliant warrior! Here comes Hexpolis, you will be the master of thousands of armies!”
Morse stretched out his hand to grab the air, and the unknown elements began to condense. , a beautifully shaped long knife appeared out of thin air in his hand. The blade was so sharp that one doubted whether even a child could easily cut through boulders. Simple but extremely beautiful carvings decorated the surface of the steel knife, forming a set of mysterious inscriptions.
He didn't make a handle for the steel sword, so the weapon suspended in the air couldn't be used yet.
“I haven’t decided yet what words should be engraved on the hilt.” Morse said, “To Perturabo of Lokos, or to Perturabo of Ax?”
The Arxians burst into cheers for a second time, and Perturabo's breathing became extremely rapid, as if the oxygen near his body was no longer enough to supply his thinking.
He turned his head and looked directly at the two parties in the battle, and then he heard the voice of Miltiades - a desperate man whose right hand was bleeding profusely, abandoned his shield, and fought with a spear with his left hand. He let out a determined shout: "Two adults! Although Lokos is not good at violence and war, we will never retreat before a battle!"
Perturabo listened blankly and stepped forward. One step forward.
No one knew what kind of excitement the two sides' words had in his heart. As time passed, the skylight brightened slightly and dispelled the shadows on his face.
He suddenly turned around vigorously with his whole body, and the veins on the side of his neck stretched.
"You cold-blooded guy! The Akers took away the cattle, sheep and steel from farmers and craftsmen to build an army. They will only use my abilities into war. That's what I see! I don't I need Ax's welcome!"
Perturabo growled, but not to accuse Morse. He didn't have the time, and continued: "You just said that this knife was to be given to others. Me?"
"It will be yours." Morse let the blade rise and float before Perturabo's eyes.
"There is no price to give, right?"
Before receiving Morse's answer, Perturabo stretched out his hand and grabbed the sharp blade. His blood instantly filled the blade and was embedded in it. Each hollow inscription.
The next moment, he rushed into the battle with a sharp blade, piercing every design flaw in Ax's armor with amazing skills and a sharp weapon that was too powerful to cut.
In his fighting stance, Morse was able to capture both the honed and inherited killing skills of the Arks and Lokos. Even though Perturabo was restless, he was already prepared to quickly observe and learn the ability of actual combat, and turned this ability into practical experience on the spot.
Mors saw with sharp eyes that the gap in the armor pierced by Perturabo was exactly what Lokos's Miltiade had used during the previous fight.
"I will not be a madman addicted to war!" The boy declared to everyone on the field with battle and words, "Don't even think about using my fighting talent. I am a craftsman who builds cities, and my construction will start from Lokos!"
Morse looked for a moment, then stood up.
As Perturabo said, he "moved his fingers."
More Ax ambushes hiding around and the Ax archers above covered their throats, and thin arterial blood overflowed from their fingers, spreading all over the dry land.
He walked towards Perturabo, who had killed the enemy side by side with the Lokos. The boy fell towards him. Morse caught him and used spiritual energy to heal the deep wounds on his back and palms. Wound.
"If you are a craftsman, you should protect your hands." He said softly. "I don't remember threatening you to grab the blade with your bare hands."
Perturabo looked at him tiredly and snorted softly.
There are three Lokos alive, including Miltiades and two other warriors. They supported each other and knelt down at Perturabo.
"Thank you, Lord Perturabo!" they said in unison, and the respect in their words was obvious to everyone, even though they obviously thought that Perturabo was actually a mortal boy.
Perturabo regained a little strength, stood up straight again, and slowly let the syllables float into the air clearly.
"Get up and take us to Lokos."
The spire of Lokos city-state in the distance was lit up with a golden spot by the rising sun, and Perturabo didn't want to wait any longer.
(End of this chapter)