I Will Be The Crowned King

Two ten in the morning, Green Valley, near the town center.

In the middle of a desolate street full of rubble and gravel, the genie caster with a cigarette in his mouth puffed clouds and wandered aimlessly in the rainstorm; The trying Iser elf was incomparably sober after coughing continuously.

Looking up at the battlefield that was covered by artillery fire in the distance, and mixed with gunshots and shouts of killing, listening to the sound of footsteps rushing through the surrounding streets, the elf caster slowed down again, and the pace became more and more leisurely.

The battle that belonged to him tonight ended the moment the orange-red fireworks rose.

Although there is only one chapel in Luyin Valley, and according to the information obtained in the past few days, there is a high probability that there will be no inquisition here... But in any case, it is not worthwhile for the caster to risk exposure to fight.

A spellcaster who has not reached the level of a blasphemous mage may be really strong against ordinary people, but in the melee of the army, it is just a "higher" head.

This point is far more profound than that of many old human gods, for the Iser elf who once dominated for a time, and was forced to abandon traditional beliefs and surrender to the church due to the pressure of the orderly world for nearly a hundred years.

From the ten millimeter diameter lead bullet to the sixty-four pound solid bullet, there is always one that can make all living beings equal.

No matter how powerful the magic spell or the blood mage who achieved the miracle of life, they couldn't stand the uninterrupted salvo of a line company, or the coverage of artillery fire for one minute.

It is precisely because of this that the Thirteenth Council, which once truly ruled the Elven Kingdom of Iser, has become a "little old **** sect" today, forty-seven years after the saint's calendar. Activity in dark corners…

"Um?"

The spellcaster who was breathing clouds suddenly stopped and turned his head to the street beside him with a little surprise; through the rainstorm, he could vaguely hear footsteps in groups and very rhythmic breathing.

That alone is of course no surprise, but what if the voices were running in the opposite direction of the battlefield?

Soon, another footstep sounded, the difference was that the sound was softer, and it was coming straight at him.

The elf caster with a low-quality cigarette raised his head, and then saw a petite figure running wildly, and the rifle bayonet in her hand splitting the rain curtain.

"boom!"

The golden-red gun flame surged at the muzzle of the gun as the trigger was pulled, and the lead bullet that ripped through the air sent out a shriek that shook the soul, and rushed towards the elf spellcaster with the girl.

The moment the gunshot sounded, the stunned elf caster tried his best to dodge to one side, the hot lead bullet only shattered his left shoulder, and the tip of his raised right finger ignited a faint small flame again.

In the next second, the flame suddenly turned into a javelin and rushed towards the attacking girl.

Spell magic, rising fire.

"boom-!"

The golden red fire burst in the rain, but there was no picture of the girl being blown to pieces in the flames; in the dazzling fire, there was nothing but the rain and the empty streets.

The elf caster with a cigarette widened his pupils, and his raised right hand gradually exploded into smoke.

He was about to unfold the fog of the undead and distance himself from that weird girl.

at this time…

"puff!"

The elf caster was suddenly shocked, coughing violently involuntarily, and the right hand that was about to turn into smoke returned to its original state.

"Cough! Cough-cough-cough..."

The viscous plasma coughed out of his mouth uncontrollably, dyeing the cigarette at the corner of his mouth red.

The elf spellcaster suddenly understood something, his eyes froze suddenly, trembling, and he slowly lowered his head and looked down.

The blood-stained bayonet pierced out from the position of his chest and heart, and the tip of the sharp blade seemed to be still dripping with blood.

The shocked elf caster coughed and turned to look behind him:

"You...are actually a spellcaster..."

"puff!"

The sound of sharp blades tearing flesh sounded again, and the weak elf caster "Puff!" fell to his knees in the rain, and the position of his neck was exactly parallel to Lisa's horizontally slashing bayonet.

"Crack!"

The moment the sword light flashed, the headless corpse, which had no time to scream, fell to the ground; Lisa with scarlet eyes pulled out the revolver behind her waist with her backhand and aimed at the spherical object that rose into the air.

"boom!"

The buckshot hit the elf caster's grim cheek between the eyebrows, and the head burst with a sound, blasting the blood mist in the rain.

Unburned cigarettes were soaked red with plasma and fell in a pool of blood.

Lisa, who was standing beside the corpse, squatted down, picked up the cigarette **** that had fallen on the ground, and looked at it curiously; she had seen Carl and Mrs. Bogner biting this thing more than once, and while biting it would exhale smoke, revealing that A particularly enjoyable expression.

Is it delicious?

This thought popped into Lisa's little head.

But it's just a thought... The next second, Lisa, who looked disgusted, threw the blood-stained cigarette **** on the ground, followed the movement of the army with a Borny rifle on her back, and continued to run to the street shrouded in rain.

 …

The dense platoons of guns and the shouts of killing gradually faded away, and the heavily armed storm regiments shuttled through the deserted streets, approaching the direction of the northern city wall.

More than 700 soldiers maintained a tight column formation, trotting silently with their heads lowered; because of the low visibility and heavy rain around, everyone was concentrated, and followed the footsteps of the people in the front row to prevent themselves from getting out of touch with the main force.

More than 700 soldiers, like more than 700 ants, ran wildly into the night in the torrential rain.

From the very beginning, Anson never thought of fighting a so-called head-to-head "positional battle" with the Aiden people in Luyin Valley.

The reason is very simple. The narrow terrain and long battlefield depth are too great for the Aiden Legion, whose strength is more than double their own. Even if they can block all streets and squares, as long as the other party can invest at any cost. It is only a matter of time before the troops and the front are penetrated.

After all, there are only 5,000 people in his hands. After throwing out the reserve soldiers, the troops that can really be put into every stronghold and defense line must be far less than the Aiden Legion. It is doomed that it is impossible to strictly guard every place.

Night raids are destined to bring chaos, and street battles in towns will greatly smooth the gap in combat literacy between the two sides of the battle. Such battles are very unfavorable for the storm division.

So Anson's plan was simple and straightforward - change homes.

Let go of the line of defense, the army retreats and shrinks its strength, and let the mad dog-like Aiden Corps go to besiege the warehouse stronghold; then lead the storm regiment and the guard company to take this opportunity to bypass the frontal battlefield and not confront the Aiden. Headquarters outside the northern city wall, capture Victor Emmanuel alive!

Lvyin Valley is very small, so small that it cannot hold nearly 20,000 troops fighting each other in the city; Lvyin Valley is also very large, so large that even if there are 20,000 people fighting in the city, there are still many roads that can bypass the enemy’s front and directly. Attack the rear of the enemy's interior.

As long as the Duke of Aiden is captured, left in the warehouse by himself, Carl Bain, and the rest of the Storm Division can survive the night, the Aiden will have to surrender without surrendering—perfect.

Such a wonderful plan to simplify so much that Anson can't even praise himself.

Of course, as easy as it may seem, in practice there are quite a few problems to be solved and a little luck required to execute this plan.

But tonight, I seem to be very lucky. A heavy rain has caused both sides to lose all the vision of the battlefield tonight, and it is impossible to make an accurate judgment on the battle situation. Even what happened within a radius of 50 meters is blind.

This not only provided the storm regiment with good concealment and cover, but also seemed to make the opposing Aiden regiment make a misjudgment about the battle situation, thinking that the warehouse stronghold was about to be captured, and nearly ten thousand troops were all pressed in one go.

The direct consequence is that the entire Beicheng District has almost become an empty city; there are not many troops guarding all the street strongholds and intersections, so that the storm regiment of nearly 700 people can travel here unimpeded.

However, this is not enough, because the Green Valley is an away battle against the Storm Division. The narrow and winding streets and the extremely low visibility will also affect the Storm Corps.

Moreover, the current Beicheng District is not completely without the troops of the Aiden Legion. Coupled with the elven spellcasters still wandering in the streets, these people will expose Anson's "change home" tactics at any time, resulting in the failure of the battle.

But this is not the biggest problem for Anson, who has "ability".

At the beginning, he was able to take more than 2,000 people to survive the blizzard and cross the Dawn Ice Peak by relying on his supernatural powers—although he went the other way in the end—that tonight, he led 700 people to sneak attack on the Aiden Corps headquarters, which was not a problem.

The premise is that there is no elf caster on the opposite side who is also good at insight.

However, at this stage of the battle, even if there are reconnaissance casters on the opposite side, it is useless, unless he has another way to pull back the Aiden Legion that was trapped in the warehouse stronghold within 15 minutes. , otherwise the Duke of Aiden would not have to think about a comeback.

Just as Ansen was full of thoughts and ran all the way, Lisa, who was excited, turned back from the street on the right, and gave Ansen a military salute with a small face.

"Captain Lisa Bach of the Guard Company, return to the team!"

"Welcome back to the team, Captain Lisa Bach!" Anson returned to the military salute solemnly, and at the same time, he had already included the "powers" of the four surrounding streets in his mind, and quickly locked another figure.

"Behind the barricade 60 meters in front, there is an enemy stationed there. He is hiding in the corner with his back to the barricade... Are you confident?!"

"Leave it to Lisa!"

The girl who responded loudly picked up Borny behind her again, and the petite figure disappeared into the rainy night in the blink of an eye.

 …

At the same time, the Duke of Aiden, Victor Emmanuel, outside the northern city wall, was anxiously waiting for the outcome of the battle.

At this point in the battle, the outcome has little to do with him - all the plans have been completed, all the chips have been put on the gambling table, and it depends on who has the bigger hole card.

The troops on the front were still sending messengers to bring first-hand battle reports to the young duke; of course, almost all of it was good news, either conquering another street or forcing the Clovis to shrink their defenses again. , or how many casualties the new offensive has inflicted on the enemy...

The problem is, none of these battle reports is what he wants to hear.

None of them are "Our army has torn open the enemy's position and entered the warehouse stronghold".

None of them stated that "Ansen Bach has been found, and he is fighting with the main force of the Storm Division led by him."

None of them "has conquered the southern city wall and controlled the city gate, cutting off the storm division's retreat".

Standing with a knife, Duke Aiden stood calmly in front of the map. His resolute expression made it impossible for all the messengers to know whether he was in a good or bad mood after hearing the battle report; Conqueror in hand.

Only the trembling hands clenched tightly on the handle of the knife vaguely showed his anxiety at the moment.

The difficult choices before the war and the joy of victory after ordering the attack have all disappeared at this moment, and all that remains is the endless tension and a trace of fear that has been suppressed in the deepest part of my heart.

In the tent filled with damp water vapor, the dim kerosene lamps flickered and flickered, as if foreshadowing something.

"East line of defense."

Duke Aiden, who had been silent and suppressed for a long time, suddenly interrupted the messengers of the "Blessing of Victory": "Is there any report of the eastern defense line, which has not been conquered yet?"

The messengers in the tent were stunned and looked at each other in dismay, but no one spoke.

Looking at those stunned expressions, Duke Aiden's indifferent expression instantly turned hideous.

"Since you don't know, then hurry up!"

The furious duke grabbed the collar of the messenger and threw him on the ground like a broken doll: "You have to wait until I give the order before you know what to do?!"

"Follow, follow!"

The messenger got up from the ground in a panic, left the tent as fast as possible, and ran towards the rainy night.

"What's up?"

Mathias on the side couldn't help but ask, "Is something wrong with the eastern defense line?"

"do not know!"

The irritable Duke Aiden roared angrily, but quickly calmed himself down and looked at the other party with solemn eyes

"But I have a very bad hunch that something could go wrong there - or something has already happened."

"why?"

Although born into a noble pure-blood family, Matias's job is a court official and diplomat, and his understanding of war is still on the concept of an "expanded version" of a dozen people's melee.

"Because it has not been conquered - otherwise my officers should have sent the good news back!" Duke Aiden explained coldly:

"Why, why is it the only one that hasn't been conquered? Even though the defense lines on the middle and west sides have retreated, but this direction is the only one that has to resist the attack from both sides and refuses to retreat?"

"There are only two possibilities, the first is that they missed the best time to retreat and had to stay where they were; but that's too strange, because the east line should be the last line to fight us, they can't There wasn't enough time to retreat."

"Another possibility... is that the army standing here is a trap left by Anson Bach!"

"boom-!!"

The moment the voice fell, there was a sudden burst of gunfire outside Duke Aiden's tent.

Ansen Bach and the Storm Corps, who had crossed the battlefield, had already reached the northern city wall.