Fly the Flag of Fire!

Soon after that soldier, whose body and heart would be all worn out, rushed into Chitoga Osho, the Imperial Army 5,000 garrisoned had advanced over Osho. The soldier is the second Imperial soldier to survive the burning, but the fourth to rush into Oshima. The second and third are members of the SS and two benders known as actresses since the Hackinen Guard days. I used to walk around with a hammer on my horse's ass.

"... the rumors will be true if we make it three populations."

Marco said to Yarucco's concerns and blurry remarks.

"You must have already moved on with the second one. I mean, I'm not hungry to run."

As the word stood, Imperial Soldier Five Thousand was letting the cowhorses tow their luggage. Going west as quickly as possible while being terribly vigilant on the southern shore of the tributary. They don't intend to use water transport. You seem frightened.

"Now they must also be terrified to see the ship. I'm desperate because I also think the Hellevy Army is moving forward on the north shore. The outline of the request is a temporary bridge downstream. General Barcelo is supposed to be guarding us as an exit. We're going to join them and head north to Fort Front."

"Just so you know... you're not going to let me get there, are you?

If Yarucco asks, the fourteen-year-old brunette laughs thinly. And with the content of the answer, I make Yarucco's heart and balls out of the cold.

"Terrible. You'll get there. I need you to be more desperate. I need you to forget about food and drink, get into a shapeless race, and rush in like a lifesaver..."

And the brutal trick to the Imperial Army 5,000 began. We dare to miss some of the wrecked soldiers scattered on the surface of the land and let them escape into the 5,000. Plus, we'll set up a raid on a squadron scale. Repeat irregularly to strike a blow and leave immediately. It strikes without day or night, and among the defeated soldiers fleeing, the SS crooks are also distracted. Arson, ram cowhorses, and take away supplies. And pull the raid.

It was a payback where I rushed in pursuit. Yarucco and others are familiar with this difficult terrain. I remember only the amount of sweat that drowned, and only the amount of muscle that grew was mine. There was a unique method of combat that I established while soiling. It is a way of fighting long drilling techniques and special “digging keys”.

Dig holes for one person, alone or in small numbers. Dive in there and in some cases wear dirt, disappearing thoroughly from the sight of the enemy before striking. Even if he escapes, he jumps into the hole again, and even if he comes after him, he even escapes from the horizontal hole. And strike the peeping enemy from behind.

If it is more than platoon size, use a narrow, empty moat-like trench called a "trench path”. Even a hole for one takes half a day, so this one needs to be prepared in advance. But powerful. This half-blooded passage is valid against all races of soldiers.

Being a natural enemy for horseback riding is the easiest way to make use of it. Whether it was a light cavalry or a heavy cavalry, it wasn't just something you could cross as a single horse if you tangled a fence or something on this ditch road. Both the humans fell and were only killed later. I got up and tried to fight, and the ditch road is a narrow road. Neither swords nor spears can be used in a busy manner. An enemy pulling out a small sword is arguably the most adaptable enemy, but there is no other way to exchange it than a spike, and a digging key will invariably strike where it has become a super melee.

A bunch of musculoskeletal members grab a giant key like a stick in their hand and lay the beating on the beating in the midst of a made mess. That was a rough but overwhelming sight. Yarucco felt like a barbarian warrior or something. The vividity of the feeling of life outweighs the struggle by the blade. Or I thought I was a monster. Because the trench roads are intertwined, it is also like a maze for the enemy infantry that has jumped in, and suddenly attacking ourselves and others would be like goblins and oaks in painting stories.

So this is natural. Yarucco has nothing more to offer than that.

An old man with a hand wound in front of him and a soldier who can still be described as a boy are sheltered with a faded face, and in his own hands is a spoon of steel that digs and scrapes, both dirt and man. The boy has a small sword in his hand, but it can't even be compared to a long sword. It even loses its weight, and the tremors that make noise with the chatter are irregular. I think of myself in that eye.

A monster. I still think I'm a monster. The shoe of a man has a clap on it, so is it an old knight and his squire... a scene where magical help enters in the words of a painting story. But there is no such thing on the battlefield, only with the surviving living and the defeated dead. Either body temperature ends cold.

I couldn't stop sighing. And it seems the man perceived that.

"Surrender... will you allow it?"

The man opened his mouth more. I have something my eyes are complaining about out of the question. And it was difficult for Yarucco to ignore it because it was content that was common to the elderly. Look at Chirali and the boy. I was set up. But if you turned your gaze back on the man, there is a nod of willingness. Yarucco made his mouth a letter to. My eyes narrow.

"I know you're saying good things about bugs. I want you to do me a favor."

Zui and I went forward and put our knees on the ground and lowered our heads to the ground. I also lay my gaze down and can see the back of my neck. So the will became more and more known, and Yarucco roared low. Fighting is still going on around us. Meetings by these three won't last that long either.

"Please, Master Colletos, retreat! I'm here...!

I put a little sword on my hip while I was telling you, but my back is pulling. Yarucco set up a digging key. If you're going to jump, you won't hesitate to kill me. But I'm not coming. I can't come. A man is grabbing the boy's leg. And I shake my head to the side, so I can't stand Yarucco. Eat up your teeth.

"Like this...... in a place like this, in a battle like this......!

The boy seemed to be crying. That's a very childish tear. Yarucco, who has seen many battlefields, knows the type of tears. There are many things in the world that do not come to mind, and that is what comes down to people in the form of unexpected misfortune. If it's a battlefield, it involves death.

The boy's tears were tears of disapproval. Something that came to me with some kind of dream on the battlefield has become a miserable possibility, and I cry unacknowledged about it. I mourn my fate and am angry at the world I have knitted it from. If you're going to cry without dividing the obvious from the obvious, it's young. Yarucco is sad about that. From now on I will put an end to this boy's life, but how can such a young man be on this occasion? Ask the man who lay down with his eyes. It was bitter. There's nothing I can do. Reality is always there.

The wind rang small and a single arrow pierced the boy's neck. An arrow from the side. The boy's face looks down strangely, but it's not easy to see. I stayed up front, and I fell. I can peek sideways, but that was still decent. Something ended up still on the way. Two sighs were thrown up. Both had an old sense of universe in them.

"No words to speak with a blade on the battlefield."

It was Marco who showed up as I said it. Looks like he shot it. I have about three escort infantry. Marco is a master spear, but his basic health is only year-to-year. Not suitable for this trench road battle. For this reason, he was participating in the form of a small bow to cover the infantry.

"What are you scared of? Take the sword. And choose between resisting or self-determination."

The voice had a harsh sound. The man was keeping an eye out. There's a little sword rolling on the side that the boy had, but he doesn't even try to reach for it.

"Stupid... in front of me, you mean the kid killed the kid..."

"You're the fool, Donald Colletos. What dream did you intend to bring to the battlefield?

The man is even more surprised, but Yarucco still thought. I was suspicious that the boy had called a man. Whoever was in Chitoga Osho and gave instructions to the whole invading army... that's this guy. All information is missing here.

"It's a dream story, such as trying to tactically unlock this phase. You should have stayed in the centre of 5,000 until the end and endured. And if I could have retreated in a way that was even a little orderly, I would have increased the number of soldiers to survive for that matter... what are you getting hot for? Even the militants."

It was a miserable statement. The man is now bluishing and trembling his face, which was stunningly distorted. It was a pathological tremor. It appeared to Yarucco like a cramp that conceived the nervousness of ruin, as occurs when an overstretched string is played.

"Now take your sword and choose one end or the other, you defeated warrior. We are not as beautiful as we are in honor of bravery. Because there can be no glory or anything else for those who conspire to build a future death ahead of the horizon. Those who pay cold for the lives of others, regardless of their enemy allies, and walk cold on the bones of 10,000, have something called a corresponding way to end it. You know that, right?

Oh, is this the last nail bounce...... Yarucco understood the meaning of the sight unfolding in front of him. There is one man who has squeezed himself to the point of criticism, worn himself out, and gained some power at the price of it. It is easy to observe that it was an irrevocable step, even if it is not known for any reason.

Marco is trying to cut it off. I'm trying to make you self-destruct by ringing it hard. Or maybe it's some kind of response to words that were sprayed prior to a massive meeting. It was probably this man who devised that wording. To those who have begun the battle with hard words, they are about to give death by hard words. That means words honor good fighting on the back. Yarucco thinks so.

"Hurry up. I'm sure he's still wandering his soul when you escort him to the dead. At least pass away with you. You've been in this predicament and you've had a little dream on the battlefield. And that dream killed him. You know that, don't you? Even if you want to block your ears, you should still take your sword. I will not speak on the battlefield to anyone with a blade."

Whether it was provoking or expressing condolences, it was difficult for Yarucco to discern that. Because Marco's words had no pleasure whatsoever, they were just harsh to the point of sadness. He said he would wake up. I woke up firmly... and that's what I sound like to say, trying to give my life all over it.

The man closed both eyes and spent a small amount of time. There were far signs there. Yarucco can tell because he has seen several of them. And the man opened his eyes. Attract the sword, but ask without gripping.

"O unusual... may I ask your name?"

"It's Marco."

"Marco... that's the name you heard... right, of“ Fire "... is that what it's all about?

"Yes. That and this, my flames burned. You'll burn something else."

"Well... it was planned before the brave showed up... as if he were a demon. They said it was burned by flames, too."

Marco also smiled back at the man, who smiled slightly. And I put horrible things into words.

"the world that needed that flame... I will not forgive"

Yarucco was under the illusion that the air had broken. It was a narrow street on this ditch road, with a young corpse lying at his feet in the winter cold on his cheeks, but he felt like he had been unleashed in a great flame. His whole body popped and an unexplained sweating was prompted. I couldn't breathe.

I was seeing illusions. That's what I dreamed of one day.

It's Salomon. Overlapping the figure of Marco, fourteen, I see that awesome man. A man burned alive in the enthusiasm of the masses... stands there in flames. The expression is anger. Marco's smile remains intact, but there stands an illusion that even the fiery demon should say exactly. Yarucco gasped.

"Well... you mean... then...!

To the boiling killer, Yarucco awoke to reality. If you look, a man is standing up with a sword in his hand. Marco is the one whose cut is on the way. About eight steps at a distance. Yarucco stopped it as he tried to swing the digging keys around.

The man couldn't seem to move one leg. There are other wounds and decreases in health, or miserable... really miserable moves to lean over. Marco, facing each other, has already put an arrow on his bow and squeezed it. Even though he can't see it, the man approaches it with a firm attitude. The cutting edge won't let Marco go while he's shaking.

I rang leopard and sounded goth.

Marco's unleashed arrow was not past, shooting through the man's brow. That's right. It is a three-step distance. If he is a man of both feet, he will be slaughtered in one step. The man packed that far. Marco waited that long. Then a single arrow ran between them, and they finished the confrontation.

No one had a word. The toughness of the samurai remained on the man's face.

And the Imperial Army, which was five thousand at the beginning, was cut to the number whether it would reach three thousand, and it was finally finished with the runners. No load, no company, just turning fear into power and running. It's a crazy run. The use of unscrupulous force naturally keeps the shepherd going. They were discussed. The same applies to those who offer to surrender. That was nothing but a flight from death. If you don't run, you just die.

Less than two thousand arrived in Uliharsila territory. It is also those who became like the dead of picture stories because of fear and exhaustion. It did not include a single person there who survived the burning. That means that 60,000, though time has passed, have been wiped out. No one could escape that flame.

And all those less than two thousand of them were to be left south of the tributary.

It is Barcelo. The 5,000 horsemen, who had deployed the extreme of manoeuvre tactics on the territory of Uliharsila, crossed the makeshift bridge north with all their men, now reduced to half a thousand and five hundred horsemen, and burned down the bridge. He used 2,000 miserable friends to cross the river. Because they were cornered by the time they had to.

For the Knights of the Sword Horn and the Cavalry of the Fire slapped them. The Barcelo Light Cavalry Brigade had launched its battle with high manoeuvre shortly after its incursion into Uliharsilla territory, but it had been dropped from the east to its plight at once with the arrival of two thousand horsemen. Its two thousand horsemen, striking at a speed no less excellent than that of the elite cavalry who put together their black battle coats, were flying flags like flames. The name of the flag is called the Fire Flag.

Take a look. The Imperial Army has crossed the plain with more than 100,000 troops. That was a miserable thing to do now. Twenty thousand, which surrounded the capital of Salmant territory, retreated to the fort on the front line, where two thousand and five hundred horsemen, led by Barcelo, joined, and did not reach thirty-five thousand, even in conjunction with the soldiers of the fort. Nearly seventy percent of the great army was lost.

The fort had a large flag flying. It is the flag of the Ascension Dragon. Because the Emperor of the Everian Empire used it as a place where he widely condemned the invasion of the generals. There is also the flag of the Golden Crown Sword King. Because the Golden Sword Knights were a necessity for the army surrounding the Salmant territorial capital. The flag of the swordsmith snake also matched there. For two thousand and five hundred horsemen of full creation have returned.

There was an army of the kingdom of Aslia approaching there.

In addition to the armies flying the Count's flag and the Marquis's flag, respectively, 10,000 more than the Salmant's army, 3,000 more than the Peterius's army, 10,000 more than the Uliharsilla's army, 5,000 more than the Hellevy's army, 5,000 more than the Ronkainen's army, and 5,000 more than the Maryaranta's army, the Knights of the Sword Horn, 2,800, the Cavalry of Fire, thousand and nine hundred, and the Third Princess's SS, 3,000 were gathered. That sum is forty-five thousand and seven hundred.

They also appear to be the army of leaders who are rarely supposed to leave their own territory, and the army of gatherings: the Knights, a private soldier of nobility, the SS, a private soldier of the royal family, and the cavalry of newcomers. But we were united. One exaltation was uniting them. There is a flag of war flying that saved the crisis in the diaspora. There's a flag of war flickering in the color of fire.

Since the beginning of the war, a third meeting was about to take place.

The flag of the Ascension Dragon and the flag of the Fire were about to usher in a confrontation here.