Chapter 27 27 Lord of White Oak! Sen!

Chapter 27 27. lord of the white oak! Sen!

While Murphy and his small group of players set up an ambush to take care of the transport and fight to the death against the Wolfsbane Clan’s elites, there was similar progress throughout the rest of the battlefield.

The instant the camp went up in flames, Missy Femis dispatched Lady Adele to return with a few of her elite Blood Servants, mainly to get a message from Murphy, but also to see what the hell was going on in the camp.

Lady Adele, who already knew that things were bad, went to Murphy’s defense zone alone, while the several Blood Servants under her command were commanded to return to the camp where the fire had started, only to end up colliding head-on with four Witch Hunters who were planning to leave.

“Kill!”

The five elite blood servants did not make any unnecessary movements, the moment they saw the enemy, they grabbed their war spears and rushed up, although they were servants serving the vampires just like Maxim, but being able to be brought along by the Midnight Hunters proved that they were the carefully trained “reserves” of the blood race, and their combat strength was not far off from that of the elite of the human army. Their combat strength is comparable to that of the elite of the human army.

They have also been strengthened by their vampire masters with dark psychic energy and are not afraid of witch hunters.

At the same time, a very dark humor lies in the fact that because of the terrible weakening of the vampires under the sunlight, the army formed by these armed blood servants is actually the real main force of Cadman City and even the whole Transylvania region.

“Wild dogs of the vampires! Suffer death!”

The four witch hunters were being tortured, but they already had a death wish at this point, so they grabbed their weapons and fought with those blood servants in this burning camp.

“Little Natalie! Quickly go! We’ll hold off these wild dogs.”

Potter, the one-armed veteran, slipped combat claws on his own hands and lunged closed to knock one of the Bloodservants to the ground.

The two fought each other like hungry beasts in the firelight, vowing to sink their fangs into each other’s throats, as did the other veteran next to him, Norman, whose skin was all but shaved but which would be as senseless as if it were nothing, just dragging his tattered body into silent combat.

But they weren’t just fighting to fight.

The veteran’s hoarse cries made Huntress Natalie’s heart flutter, she knew that everyone was taking care of her, and right now even in this desperate situation they would fight to the death to cover her escape.

However, that care was a burden.

From the beginning of the Ten Year War until now, she had lost too many friends and companions to count how many times she had come back from the dead.

She was well aware that the battle at hand was desperate, but she had no desire to run anymore, and perhaps dying here would be a good end.

Curse this damned world!

Here, peace was just a boring and never-to-be-realized illusion!
She tilted her head back, and in her left eye, which was barely still open, she could see the sun’s psychic energy flickering at the end of the other side of the swamp.

Those blazing lights were like the sun in the darkness of the night, and that also meant that the Midnight Hunters had hit a hard bargain, and the other side had a high-ranking psychic master from the Tower of the Ring in their midst!

The flickering of this solar boundary alone was enough to make those evil spirits in the darkness suffer.

If they could consume nearly 60 vampire elites in one go, it would definitely be a very impressive battle.

If the Church of Avalon was still around, Natalie and her crew would probably be canonized after this battle and become the Protector Warriors that everyone admired.

Unfortunately, the Church of Avalon had already become a forgotten old religion in the mouth of the world.

The organization that had nurtured her and was regarded by her as the home of her soul had gone up in smoke ten years ago, and along with it, they, the warriors who had fought to hunt evil spirits and defend mankind, had also become bereaved.

“Bang.”

The violent clash of weapons snapped Natalie out of her dazed and confused daze, making her realize that she was still in the middle of a gruesome battle.

This kind of wandering off shouldn’t happen to an Elite.

The fact that she was able to do so already meant that her body, which had been strengthened by natural psychic energy, had reached its limits.

She thought she could still fight, but her body was already starting to break down.

The grim-faced blood servant in front of her kicked Natalie in her badly injured lower back and stomach, causing her to spurt out a mouthful of blood subsequently falling to the flying ash splattered ground, the guy stepped forward with a sharp blade to harvest off her head, and amidst the struggle on the ground, the chaotic vision could see that the veteran soldier, Potter, was thrusting his combat claws into the enemy’s neck while a broken spear was stuck in his waist and stomach.

“Don’t touch her!”

The hoarse chorus came from the other side, causing Natalie to turn around with difficulty to see the weakened Ambrosia leaning against the side of the wagon holding a hand crossbow in both hands.

The thin, sensual but determined scout girl had supposedly found the weapon in the vampire’s wagon.

She was struggling to take aim.

But her right eye, blinded by the toxin, made it difficult for her to shoot arrows as well as before.

“Poof.”

Flying arrows flew out, shooting the Blood Servant who had raised his sword to the ground, and the two Blood Servants turned their heads to kill Ambo.

She no longer had the chance to reload her crossbow.

Natalie and Old Norman used their last strength to hold the two wounded Bloodservants and drag them to the ground almost simultaneously, fighting with their fists and teeth until Ambos crawled over covered in blood and stabbed the last two Bloodservants in the eyes with his dagger.

The four destitute witch hunters lay in a wrecked and burning camp.

They were dying.

Even though they had gained another precious victory and the fire was almost over, they no longer had the strength to climb out of this vortex of death.

Ambrosia tried to drag Natalie with her, but she fell beside her captain just as she got up herself, only able to stare at her with what was left of her left eye, trying to deliver the message with a slight movement of lips so parched they were cracked.

What she wanted to say was sorry.

But there was no need to apologize.

Dying in a battle like this was the best thing that could happen to the witch hunters who were now homeless.

It was better than going back alive to the disgusted and fearful stares of those they had protected, to be denounced as traitors and then sent to another battlefield of death by the unfeeling and indifferent psychics of the Tower of the Ring.

Their lives had become expendable in war, and perhaps that had been their position from the beginning.

Natalie closed her eyes.

She felt tired.

She just wanted to get a good night’s sleep now.

Perhaps meeting death in her sleep could reunite her with her mother in another world, memories of that loved one seemed to be tainted to blurriness in the black nightmare of the war, and that was so wrong.

The sound of hoofbeats from far and near rang out in the darkness of the night, and amidst the panting and uneasy neighing of the warhorses, the tall rider who had come from afar jumped to the ground and walked briskly into the dead silence of the camp.

The gruesome sight in front of him moved the knight, who wore a hood and carried an oak greatsword.

Realizing what was happening here, he bent down and carried Natalie and Ambo, who were the closest, out of the camp, and turned back to find the veterans Potter and Norman.

Those two guys were dead .
But had breathed their last only a few minutes ago, and their souls had not yet traveled to the Underworld, so there was still salvation!
“May Avalon bless, the mission of the Faithful is not over.”

The knight whispered the name of the god and took the bright green seeds from his belt pouch and stuffed them into the mouths of the two veterans.

As his fingers emitting emerald green points of light tapped hard at their hearts, the seed that represented life fused with their hearts and started beating weakly again in this odd state. Whether or not they could be saved in this situation was only a matter of fifty-fifty, yet today’s night really favored the warriors extraordinarily.

Natalie was soon awakened by the movement around her.

She could feel the warm water flowing into her mouth, the taste oddly supposed to be the addition of herbs, relieving her immensely tired spirit for a moment, and opening her eyes with difficulty she saw a familiar face.

It was streaked with wrinkles and seemed to have a mournful face, gray hair extended from under the hood, scars remained above the left eye and the bridge of the nose, while a touch of worry surfaced in those aged eyes.

“Father War . War leader .”

The huntress clasped the old knight’s hand with a jolt, and she coughed, hard:
“We . . didn’t finish.”

“Rest, child, you have done well.”

The old knight known as the “War Chief” said soothingly:

“Your falcon, Swift Shadow, brought the message back to command, and it was he who led me here, and you sent nearly one-sixth of the Blood Vulture Clan’s Rangers into a trap, which is quite a feat.

I’m coming.

I’ll take care of the rest of those.”

“To avenge the warriors! Please.”

Natalie finally let go.

Her tired spirit couldn’t hold her any longer, and her head lolled as she fell asleep.

Then a small but fierce and intelligent gray falcon flew down anxiously and landed beside Natalie bouncing and chirping sadly towards the old knight.

“She’s fine, Swift Shadow.”

The old knight said to the falcon as he stood up and pulled his hood down over his cheek:
“Take care of them, I’ll take care of the rest of the trouble.”

He whistled and let the tall red warhorse charge into the camp, without slowing down he himself grabbed the reins and rolled onto his back, stomping across the burning campsite towards the goat path of the filthy swamp.

The fire burned behind him, lengthening the old knight’s figure.

As he drew closer and closer to the battlefield of the vampires, the greatsword behind him, with its handle and trim made of sacred white oak, began to hum eerily.

“Well, it’s good that you also feel the evil spirits in front of you.”

The White Oak Battle Leader felt the fervor rising in his weapon, and he said in a mute voice:
“It’s been a while since you’ve been so active since the destruction of the old religion, are you still remembering the shame left to you by the Blood Vulture back then? Just in time!

I’ll be on fire this time, too!

With the eternal silence of the vampires and a woodland vengeance as a sacrifice, O Sacred Blade, help me.”

The hum of the oak greatsword, wrapped in its worn cloth, turned into a strange whistling of the forest winds, causing the trees around it to shiver and move out of the way for the rider who was steering his horse forward.

The vines receded, the tree branches rose and tilted, seemingly responding to the old knight’s charge closer and closer to the battlefield, while the piercing sound of the sword was like a response, but also like a cry and urging.

At last he saw the Midnight Hunters who were retreating in the darkness before him.

Those sickening scarlet specters were retreating in the blinding black sunlight, protected by the night, thinking they could still escape.

How naive!

“Retreat!”

Missy Femis slammed the Dark Psychic Lightning in her hand hard into the only three gun-toting soldiers left in front of her.

The hunters under her command had suffered a bit of a heavy loss with those damned psychics getting in the way, and although they had also killed four times their number of human soldiers and witch hunter combinations, Missy knew that there was no point in staying here and continuing to fight after realizing that the transport wagon had already detached.

It wasn’t impossible to take out that high-ranking psychic from the Tower of the Ring.

But there was no point!

If they killed one here, the Tower of the Ring would send out three more, and as the home base of psionic users in the human world, no one knew exactly how many fully loaded psionic masters the Tower of the Ring had.

The learning ability of humans was too terrifying.

The life of these short-lived species was like pathetic fireworks, yet they grew at a rate that made every vampire, no, every transcendent being feel jealous.

Missy had ordered a retreat.

The Midnight Hunters, who had lost more than ten of their prowlers, decisively retreated, they had an absolute speed advantage, and the opposing pursuit force had died out.

No one could stop them if they wanted to leave.

However, when these vampires turned back, they saw that the just calm smuggler’s woodland had instantly changed into a “labyrinth” full of malice.

Vines danced like snakes up into the canopy, dragging the flying hunters into the forest, while the trees on the ground reflected disturbing lines in their shadows.

They were trapped.

Then blue-green fire suddenly rose up, transforming into a decapitating longsword in the darkness, slicing the dodging Midnight Hunters in two.

In the wind of the red warhorse carrying its own rider leaping past, the decapitated Midnight Hunter screamed miserably and turned into ignited rotten wood, flickering and flying in scarlet embers eventually dissipating in the whistling forest.

This scene caused the blood-colored pupils of Miss Fimis to tighten in an instant.

That was an elite Midnight Hunter who was on his way to the Silver rank, and he was killed so easily with a single blow? Not even a chance to recover and escape?

Who was the one who came?
And that strange sword!

What is that thing?
The old knight who steered his horse seemed to sense the surprise of Missy suspended in the air, and tilted his head in the flying embers as he swung his sword down once more to incinerate a Midnight Hunter.

There was no more worry or tenderness in the old eyes, replaced by a sharp and chilling life-threatening gaze.

“Saints of the Old Religion, Lord of the Oak, and White Knight Commander Finok Lawson salutes the Blood Vulture! The death knell of eternal silence has sounded! Evil spirits, repent.”

He shouted so.

With a casual swipe of the Oak Sacred Blade, which burned with purifying fire, the vampire who had sneaked up behind him was decapitated with a single blow, and an even more dazzling burst of scarlet embers caused Missy to turn and flee without any hesitation or even response.

She had heard the name, at a very young age.

The Oak Knight Finok, one of the Protectorate’s Three Saints of the Old Religion of the Golden Order!

Damn!

This human monster, at least 200 years old, shouldn’t even be here!
Have you forsaken us, Mother of Night?

(End of chapter)