The Legend of Fatality

Fear filled Enasu-Saif's poisoned heart. A venom flowed into his body, making the venom of the El Ebai people a plaything for children. He could taste the dirt on his lips and feel a burning sensation in his throat.

Duke Aquitaine was a warrior all his life. It was expected that one day this man would rule the most beautiful duke territory in Burtania. His father was harsh on him, even harsher than his brother. As the heir, Ennasu-Saif is responsible for proving the value of his courage and rule. Through Aquitaine, and deep into the hinterland of Burtania, the young Ennasu-Saif was looking for monsters to kill and errors to be corrected. Will he always be like this?

No, those days are over. At this moment of great advent, only death's cold hug helped him. However, even death is not an easy task for Ennasu-Saif. He couldn't simply lie on the beach and let his life wither. Every time he breathes, every moment, he has to fight against death and the corruption that pollutes him. Previously, he tried his best to resist the severe pain of the Al-Eba people's poison. Now, he is determined to help the poison kill him. If the poison can work quickly, he may die neatly.

Even the man who cursed him told the Duke the same thing.

The Duke felt little by little that he was dying. He longed for the strength to reach out and grab the machete in the hand of the dead chief, but he couldn't even move a finger. Even blinking was a painful torment for him, and Ennasu-Saif felt it was more difficult than the most intense battle he had participated in. He saw the vulture hovering above his head, attracted by the smell of carrion. Deep in his heart, he begged the scavengers to come down, attacked him with his mouth and claws, and tore the stains of undead creatures from his flesh.

The first vultures pounced on the chief's body. The others fell on the slaughtered soldiers. A disheveled bird with grey feathers and a white wrinkle at the base of the tough neck, it rushed towards Ennasu-Saif and greedily screamed at him.

Suddenly, all the scavengers flew up, yelling in anger, and fled back to the desert sky. The poisonous knight in his body groaned as the vulture escaped. The sound of the horse's hooves and the click of the armor were deafening around him. The Duke couldn't look back to see the knights who rushed to the battlefield, but he could hear from their frantic voice that they were Burtanians.

As the knights rushed to his assistant, the armor crackled around him. Ennasu-Seiff heard the frantic voice of Earl Westbrook de Toulouse. After being ambushed, the count had been desperately riding a horse to the expeditionary camp to bring back help. Unfortunately, the aid came too late.

The weathered face of Count Durant-Du-Lancaster filled the Duke's vision, and he looked down on the Duke. Earl Durant has been his servant for decades, but the Duke has never seen such a serious expression on the knight's face before. Count Durant leaned over and put his ear on Enasu-Saif's chest. He listened for several minutes, trying to hear the dull heartbeat of the Duke.

The torture of **** ravaged Ennasu-Saif's body, and he forced his lips to whisper a gasp. "Leave me." The Duke ordered his servants. "I am already dead."

Earl Durant stood up and stared down at the Duke with a shocked expression on his face. Ennasu-Saif was convinced that the Cavaliers heard his request. He blinked, trying to reiterate his orders.

Count Durant quickly turned around. He stood there for a while, back to his dying master. Then he began issuing orders to other expeditionary soldiers who came to rescue the Duke of Aquitaine on horseback.

"He is still alive!" Count Durant exclaimed, with relief and victory in his tone. "We must take him back to the camp and let the king's doctor heal him!"

Tears burst into the Duke's eyes, and a silent scream screamed through his mind.

"Let me die," Ennasu-Saff struggled to shout to his men, but his lifeless lips did not even have the weakest moan.

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"Your children will beg for death, Durant, but I won't listen."

The Duke of Blood Eagle straddled his ghostly horse, his eyes fixed on the walls of Lancaster Castle. He watched the flashing fire on the castle window, listened to the laughter and carnival sound from the castle, and invaded the night.

"My master." Jeffrey was startled when the vampire stared at the silly Necromancer, his eyes red with anger. "Your Majesty." Necromancer quickly corrected himself. "Is it wise to attack the castle now? Do we have enough people to siege?"

The Duke of Blood Eagle glared at the gaunt man, revealing his glittering fangs. "I'm not a leader," the monster growled. "Those days are over," he said painfully again. "All I left was carrion and scavengers. He stretched out his fully armed hand and pointed to the row of silence in the woods behind him. The terrible team was pale from the cellar beneath the castle ruins. The skeleton, and the fallen ghoul that haunted the monster's once castle.

"We can never cross the city wall," Jeffrey protested. "We need trebuchets and siege towers, as well as troops to deal with them. To siege the castle and break its walls, we need thousands of troops. We only have two hundred." Jeffrey was making his last point. Shi winced. Judging from the monster's way of thinking, the Duke of Blood Eagle may not even know how big his army is. He thinks he is the vanguard of an expeditionary army composed of thousands of knights, preparing to defeat the king in Elkhek army.

The Duke of Blood Eagle did not anger, but smiled tolerantly at the Necromancer. "I don't need an army to break through the walls of Lancaster Castle. I only need a slave to enter the castle and open the castle gate for us. Then we will check the quality of the Lancaster's steel."

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Unlike many castles scattered among the green fields and lush vineyards of Aquitaine, the gates of Lancaster Castle are closed at night. The guards patrol the battlements day and night, always beware of the enemy. The Lancaster family does not need orcs and beasts to threaten their lives. Because the hatred of the Toulouse family threatens them.

Soldiers patrolling the walls of the castle have been serving the Du Lancaster family all their lives. They are farmers, rising from field work to protecting the lives and property of nobles. This is the most lofty position a civilian-born peasant can desire, and the gratitude of the soldiers to their patrons has created loyalty that gold cannot buy.

Pad is such a person, he is the son of a pig in Yinsong Village. His muscles attracted the village chief's attention. When he was sixteen, Padd raised a pig that his father couldn't lift, earning him the title of the strongest man in his village that he kept for the rest of his life.

To please his master, the village chief sent Pad to Lancaster to recruit soldiers. Pad has never returned to Yinsong Village since, and has never regretted the life he left behind. He was content with his new life and, as a soldier, had been serving the Earl of Lancaster despite the dangers it brought. On one occasion, he was shot by a Toulouse archer in two discords and nearly lost an arm. This is the closest he ever died to in his life.

At least, until Pad turned around the corner of the castle gate and found a strange figure in front of him. It was a shapely young woman, her plump body was almost covered by a transparent robe, and the robe danced around her body in the cool evening wind ~ www.wuxiaspot.com ~ The wind fluttered and seemed to reach him.

The guard ’s first reaction was a passionate curiosity about the woman, wondering who she was and why she wandered on the battlements wearing such clothes at night. Then Pad immediately felt fear. There is something unnatural about this woman. Her whole body and even her long black hair have a luminous nature, which makes her almost sparkle against the gray stone seams and the dark night sky. The sentry covered goose bumps, and a terrible chill climbed over his body.

The woman turned to Pad, her face was beautiful and sexy. Then her face collapsed and was washed away like footprints on the beach. Pad opened his mouth and screamed. He found himself staring at a ghostly skull, but there was no sound in his paralyzed throat.

The banshee's wail burned the guard's body and pierced his brain with severe pain. Only Giselle's victims could hear this ghostly scream. Pad fell to his knees and the halberd fell from his hand. He ripped off the iron helmet on his head, struggling to remove the chain mail below. Blood ran from both sides of his head and dripped from his nose. When the blood vessels in his eyes ruptured, red tears appeared on his cheeks.

The banshee watched her victims with the hatred and jealousy of the undead towards the living. She waited until the man's armored boots thumped on the protective wall, watching the final death spasm tremble in other parts of his body. Then, the vicious ghost continued to walk towards the porter, flying like a rag in a gust of wind, and ran along the wall.

There will be more guards in the guard room. Gisele can even feel the warmth of their vitality through the thick stone wall. The windlass that lifts the castle gate will also be there. One of the guards will open the door for her.

Before he died.