Stupid Odin

As Downs' words fell, the Aesir gods facing his throne all wore speechless expressions.

The strong men, led by Thor, naturally yearned for a grand war.

But Downs was suppressing it!

Everyone understood the reasoning. If the Aesir had charged in mightily from the start, they could have likely taken the Celtic world, but at the cost of a brutal conquest and endless resistance. It wouldn't have been like now, where Odin and the Chaos Giants took all the blame, and the Aesir became glorious liberators instead of violent conquerors.

But the battle maniacs couldn't resist the itch!

Thor couldn't hold back and stood up, striking his chest with a fist: "Father God, Odin and his Fomorian Giant army are not to be feared. If you let me go, I guarantee to crush Odin within an hour. Otherwise, take my head!"

Downs rolled his eyes when he heard that.

Thor, you idiot, can't you think before you speak?

You're the crown prince! What would I do with your head?

Thor heard the gods' laughter and was kicked by Sif beside him. Only then did he realize what he said, scratched the back of his head, and let out his signature silly laugh.

Downs didn't reprimand Thor, nor did he even speak. He simply released a piece of optical imagery he had barely managed to obtain through the chaotic atmosphere of the universe.

"Hiss—"

A collective gasp filled the hall.

This was the outer space of the Celtic world.

Just as Scathach and the others had seen when they left, the Celtic world was sick.

Large masses of strange chaotic aura were entrenched outside the world's barrier. These things looked like festering sores or the pupae of some disgusting insects. They churned and rolled, looking extremely nauseating.

"This is Odin's trump card!" Downs said firmly.

At this moment, the great battle in the eastern Emerald Isle was about to begin.

On the vast plateau, hundreds of thousands of human troops were divided into three sections, lined up in a row.

Stationed in the center was the army of the Kingdom of Camelot. King Arthur and his knights formed the center, the most trustworthy force.

On the left flank were the fewer Knights of Fianna and the army scrounged from King Conchobar.

On the right flank was Queen Maeve's northern coalition. Although they had the largest numbers, their combat power was the weakest. In short, the Kingdom of Connacht lacked powerful hero units, but she had already received Downs' promise, making her the least worried.

The scale of this war was definitely the largest in the history of the Celtic world.

The accompanying bards had already named this unprecedented battle—the Battle of the Emerald Isle!

The opposing side stood quite scattered, like a winding serpent of giant formations, preventing the mortal coalition from relaxing in the slightest.

After all, the powerful, seemingly invincible Tuatha Dé Danann had already lost to these Fomorian Giants, and had lost miserably.

The Fomorian Giants were too huge and too hideous.

Corrupted by chaos, they possessed body parts far beyond human imagination, such as three heads or deformed hands with seven fingers.

All of this made the mortal soldiers uneasy.

If the Aesir were not supporting them from behind this time, the leaders could already foresee their banners, each representing a knightly order, disappearing into the vast ocean of giants.

No one knew when His Majesty, the God-King suspended in the sky, would send divine warriors to help.

All they knew was that before that, this was a war belonging to the Celtic world!

This was precisely the sorrow of the smaller Celtic world: the outcome of a war in Celtic could not even be decided by the Celts themselves.

King Arthur looked at the Sword of Promised Victory in his hand, radiating golden light, and raised it high.

"His Supreme Majesty, God-King Downs * Paulsen, has promised victory to the Celts! Warriors of Camelot! Let us show His Majesty the mettle of the Celts through courageous battle—"

"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" The people of Camelot roared.

To be honest, everyone felt that King Arthur's slogan was a bit awkward this time.

After all, everyone was a little unaccustomed to suddenly changing allegiance.

But everyone knew that the Lady of the Lake had bestowed the Sword of Arthur upon them, and even the Goddess of the Lake stood on the side of this Aesir God-King, so everyone was less resistant.

What's more, at this moment, the incarnation of the Lady of the Lake stood beside King Arthur, personally helping to hold the line!

The power boost brought by a true god was terrifying.

The warriors of Camelot felt a faint, cool aura surrounding them. It not only helped them resist the erosion of the chaotic aura but also provided immediate healing when they were injured, as well as various additional divine blessings.

The buffs received by King Arthur's knights were even more powerful.

The buffs brought by the divine authorities of [Kingship], [Sky], [Water], and [Magic] were already exaggerated enough, but what truly made the knights fearless was the blessing of [Death]!

Yes! Even if they died in battle, they could become heroic spirits and continue to protect Camelot and the Celtic world. This was the ultimate embodiment of the knights' spirit of sacrifice.

Thinking of this, those deformed giants, who were twice their height, no longer seemed so terrifying.

The newest and most complete novels are at 69shuba.com!

Accompanied by King Arthur's holy sword, the infantry battle line began to advance in neat steps.

Above their heads, as the heavy bowstrings vibrated, countless large crossbow bolts streaked across the sky, firing at the giant skirmish line hundreds of meters away.

"Ah!"

"Wah—"

"Awoo!"

The deformed giants were hit hard and fell one after another.

These thick crossbow bolts, longer than an adult human's leg, rained down on the giants, who were only twice the height of a human, and even if they didn't hit a vital spot, they could cruelly pin them to the ground.

For a time, the momentum of the Fomorian Chaos Giants faltered.

"Attack—" Odin waved his hand, and Aella and Lancelot led their men, beginning to charge towards the mortal battle line.

The giants' heavy footsteps shook the earth.

At this distance, nothing in this world was more powerful than human crossbows. While human catapults were still quite rudimentary, crossbows were the strongest human weapons.

Only when the giants entered within a hundred meters could large fireballs be seen whistling from the human main formation, flung onto the giants' faces.

"Aaaargh!"

Some giants instantly turned into cooked meat, while others convulsed from electric shock and collapsed to the ground.

But more Fomorian Giants, relying on the turbid water element protecting their bodies, endured the human archers' large arrows and charged to the front of the mortal battle line, raising their clubs and delivering a mountain-splitting blow.

"Smack!"

Several bloody human figures were smashed down.

However, under the blessing of the holy halo, the mortal soldiers showed no fear, raising three-meter-long infantry spears and stabbing fiercely into the giants' almost unprotected bodies.

"Puff, puff, puff!"

Some giants fell, but even more mortal soldiers perished alongside them.

Extremely cruel exchanges of life were constantly occurring.