The Legend of Fatality

Ivan Petrovich Mogorova stared into the distance. He is a big guy and used to be fat. The past few weeks have consumed most of his weight. They spent several weeks in the saddle, sleeping where he could sleep, eating when they could eat food, fighting desperately against a large herd of horned beasts, and retreating at the last second so he could fight one day.

He tried to tell himself that he was disturbing the flanks of these huge legions of admirers of evil gods, delaying their advancement, and making their generals worry about their rear. But he suspected that his attack would only worry the other party like a flea biting a milk tooth.

He scratched the bandage around his head. The wound was itchy again. He thought he had nothing to complain about. If the unicorn is slightly stronger, or his parry is slightly slower for a second, his brain will decorate the monster's axe. The therapeutic ointment seems to be working, and the wound does not appear to be infected. He sometimes feels a little fever, and that's all.

He looked around at his rider. Only 30 people remained, all veterans. He initially set off with more than fifty soldiers who survived the rat-man attack, and then gathered his men scattered across the northern border.

At that time, he also led more than 500 cavalrymen to the south. He sent nearly 400 people to **** women and carriages from the main road southwest to Prague. It is hoped that by doing so, some of his men, especially their families, can avoid the attack of the evil army.

The rest of them were brought into the battlefield by him, driving the invaders in a historic combat method belonging to Mrs. Casler. This is a hit-and-run attack, a brutal night attack and a quick ambush. At night they will shout various slogans, which not only facilitates their connection with each other, but also makes it impossible for the enemy to discern how many people are around, and also affects the enemy's sleep.

His people have done a good job. The enemies they killed must have more than tripled their casualties, but this was not enough. This is a drop of water in the sea polluted by evil forces. He thought to himself that that waste soil must be emptied. Otherwise, who would have thought that there would be so many people living on that contaminated land?

Like all his people, he studied almost all the ancient records of Mrs. Kasler's war against evil forces in ancient times. He memorized folk songs and epics.

But the original Marnus poem was the Marnus who established the Marnus Empire. The soldiers in the army of evil gods he faced were like the blades of grass on the northern prairie. Wins. He always believed that the poet seriously exaggerated the actual situation of the year. Now, he suspects that the poet may be underestimated.

When you are old, he said to himself, when you have a horse under you, a spear in your hand, and an enemy in front of you, you will never let these thoughts fill your mind.

Now there should be no such defeatist ideas. Too many people depend on him. He looked around and saw determination in everyone's face. He is proud. These people will not give up. Even if the first hundred people have died, only this one remains.

But he knew that as long as he spoke, they would follow him all the way to the gate of hell. This is a well-ground knife. All he needs to do is to use them well, point them in the right direction, and they will do as he asks, or die in the attempt. Probably the latter. He pushed that idea aside.

He was glad Angelica was not here. He hoped she was somewhere safe now. He hopes that she has communicated his warning to the Shazan and Ice Goddess churches, and that she has enough rational choice to stay in the capital.

But she probably won't. She has always been self-willed, just like her mother, and, if he is honest enough, will admit that she is like him. She is likely to choose to follow Brian Fatalin, and since the man from Fatalin chose to follow Guerrerogan Mahal, it means she may be in trouble again. All he could do was to pray to the gods to bless her, hoping that Uric would not be too busy to listen to an old man's prayer.

"We continue to go south," he said in the firmest voice. "When these blue-haired hybrids try to cross the Dnieper River and then move on, we will kill them. Shazan must have sounded the rally number now, heading north to Prague. The Church of the Ice Goddess will also send a Masters. See them there and drive the dross that worships the evil gods back to the waste soil they came from. "

His soldiers cheered harshly, almost as if they believed every word he said. He was proud of them again. Like him, they saw the true size of this army of evil gods—and, like him, they must know it is invincible.

Eisenheim-Schneider looked out of the walls of Prague and saw darkness. He knew that there, the strongest army assembled by the dark forces in the past four hundred years was waiting to prepare to sweep the land of humankind with the wave of blood and fire Admirers of God will succeed. The evil gods know how close they were to us in the past days, much closer than most people alive today can imagine. In the past, every time they were repelled at a high cost, but every time the waste soil eroded by the evil forces moved forward a little, and never retreated. Every time the world becomes more degenerate and corrupt, the dark followers hidden in humans become more powerful.

Eisenheim Schneider knew these things. It was because he spent most of his life studying them, not magic. He had vowed that once he joined the ‘Brotherhood of the Secrets’, he would do his best to fight against the admirers of evil forces.

Then at this time, he wondered whether the oath took him to this place where he would die. He looked at the night outside, and he could see a huge dark magic cloud hovering over the distant army.

To his magically trained senses, the power flowing through it is obvious. He knew that there were powerful dark wizards outside, and they were accumulating power, which was difficult for any mortal wizard to control.

Ha, who can say they are mortals, Eisenheim-Schneider thought bitterly. They are no longer. Time passes at a strange speed in that wasteland. One of the most common reasons why people succumb to darkness is this. They sometimes give eternal life or something similar.

Nor does it refer to the eternal life in a distant paradise that you went to after your death, but the real eternal youth in the physical body of this world. Eternal life and power. These two things can make many people give up their souls without hesitation.