Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 620 622.Thank you

After Darkley was also killed, there was no one who was still sober and rational in this mountain valley.

In the face of wildfires, it would be difficult for even people who were united, rational and brave to deal with it, let alone the Nilfgaardian troops who were so scattered that they were wary of everyone except themselves.

Five hundred Nausicaa cavalry squads, one thousand black infantry archers, and two thousand Nilfgaardian infantry regiments can be declared to have been completely annihilated.

by a person.

As the mountain fire burned closer and closer, it seemed that even the mud on the ground, which was moistened with blood, was being dried quickly.

The heat seems to lift people's souls upward.

All you can see is a sea of ​​fire, and the brightness of the flames has begun to dazzle people.

The black figures of the defeated soldiers who had completely lost their minds were running around, crying, and howling in this fiery hell.

Lan En silently picked up his [Turbid Current], put it into the alchemical leather bag on his waist, and walked towards the only exit of the mountain col fire scene.

Lan En's body was already very tired. His two soft tissue dislocations and his fingers that were forced back into alignment by the muscles were now back to dangling in his hand due to the relaxation of the muscles.

Moving with difficulty, Lan En reached the platform at the exit of the mountain col.

This was the origin of the collapse of Nilfgaard's army, and the corpses of the dead had even reached the level of the carriage platform.

These Nilfgaardians had madness and fear in their eyes until they died.

Are they born to kill the weak?

While looking into the eyes of these corpses, Lan En suddenly thought this for no reason.

These Nilfgaardians are just ordinary soldiers. They live in the territory of the Nilfgaard Empire, have relatives and friends, and have their own interpersonal relationships in social activities.

Will these people, when in their hometowns, behave like they did before when they massacred refugees?

If not, what turned them into this?

Lan En stepped on these corpses indifferently and walked to the carriage platform.

Lan En saw the Duke who had stood on this stage, provoking him and showing him contempt.

But now, he is even more helpless and even numb than the refugees who were slaughtered under his orders. The nobility and arrogance he once had have disappeared.

"You once said that I want to find you, so I have to get through it."

Lan En looked down at the Duke who was lying on the carriage: "I can't remember clearly. Can you remind me, sir? How long did it take me to get here after you said this?"

Maybe he knew very well that what he did could not be forgiven, or maybe he thought that a 'murderer' like Lan En would never let him go. It may also be because the arrogance in Duke Adal's heart, belonging to the great aristocracy of the world's largest empire, finally burst out from his bones in the last moments of his life.

So he didn't beg for mercy in an ugly way. Instead, his eyes were red, and he looked at Lan En like an evil ghost who chose people to eat.

To cool himself down, he took off all of his armor. In order to take off the armor on his legs, he even cut off the ankles that were deformed by Darkley's kick!

"Don't you still know what you did? You should know! You destroyed Nilfgaard's power, which was close to a full division! The empire will never let you go, just wait! In the future of your life , yourself, and everyone you care about, the empire will put a high price on them! Until death!"

Faced with Adal's red-eyed curses, Lan En acted very calmly.

"It's still as you said, Lord Duke."

Lan En's palms were clenched in front of Adal, and the steel armor on his hands made a cold sound.

And behind Lan En, the soaring fire extended all the way to the sky!

"If the curse works, then why do we need this iron and fire?"

Lan En picked up the steel scepter, gently pushed Adal, rolled off the platform, and fell into a small slope where countless Nilfgaardian corpses were piled up.

Watching him curse, being entangled in dead bodies and armor, and being stained by the blood and filth in the bellies of their corpses.

He would be roasted alive here, just like he had ordered his men to do to Haxor.

On the other side of the platform, Stewart's body had been beaten into a twisted and disabled state.

But he still tried his best to hold his father, who had suffered more severely, on his shoulders.

"Don't be afraid, child, don't be afraid. I'm here with you, don't let the Nilfgaardians look down on us."

Haxo murmured vaguely. He was severely injured and unconscious. If he hadn't been on this stage, he would have died long ago.

Until now, he had thought he was being punished by the Nilfgaardians.

Until Lan En walked in front of him, he seemed to recognize the huge figure, so an inexplicable force reappeared in his body that was on the verge of reaching its limit, and he even straightened his waist briefly.

He began to mutter a name: "Lan En. Are you back?"

The witcher knelt down in front of him and took the hand he managed to hold out.

"It's me, I came back, and I won. You chose a good place, and this is your credit."

"Really? Great. So, where are the refugees?"

Haxo looked relieved at first, and then quickly turned to worry.

"Did I do it? Did I pass on those sad cries and the pain that the refugees endured?"

The witcher nodded calmly: "You did it, Haxo. What happened on this day will be known to everyone."

"Ah, that's great, thank you, thank you, thank you"

He repeated murmuringly, tears falling down his dirty face.

"It's great that I finally didn't let their suffering be buried. But will Her Majesty the Queen approve of me? In her eyes, what do I do? Is this right?"

Stewart tilted his body, bleeding from the corner of his mouth, but he still looked at Lan En with burning eyes.

But Lan En opened his mouth, his Adam's apple rolling up and down. He was not so nervous even when facing an entire cavalry regiment.

In the end, all he could say was: "I don't know, Haxor. I don't know what Calanthe would think of you."

The dying royal steward was silent at first, and then smiled.

"I can't control that much anymore. I've done my best, right?"

"Only this." Lan En's big hand squeezed Haxo's palm tightly, warm and strong. "Yes. I'm sure you did everything you could."

"That's good, that's good."

The inexplicable power in Haxo's body had come to an end, and his tone became erratic and weak again. But the corners of his tortured mouth showed a satisfied smile.

"Stuart, be well. Be well yourself."

Finally, the former royal steward of Sintra and the leader of the refugee group died on this day.