Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Chapter 855 - 79: Blood and Dragons

The sound of battle cries was deafening. The defenders of the second turret had resolved to inflict maximum damage on the enemy before succumbing.

Ulm had a natural talent for shooting, probably honed from frequently using bows and slings as a shepherd, but on this battlefield, mere marksmanship had lost its significance.

Those gigantic entities, advancing with shields as large as walls, moved across the rugged mountain path as if it were flat ground, leaping over numerous obstacles—Ulm realized this was due to a strange device on their backs that could emit flames.

Even the bullets, laced with white crystal powder—high-end goods capable of blasting a body to bits—only caused slight ripples when hitting their shields.

"This won’t work, their defense is too strong. Ulm Knight, bring me that secret weapon I mentioned earlier."

Hearing this, Ulm unhesitatingly dove into the cavern behind him and sprinted down the dark passageway.

He suddenly saw a tiny bat hanging upside down in the dark passage, its red eyes chilling his spirit.

But he quickly took off his hat and tentatively asked, "Miss Furin?"

The little bat stared at him as if he were an idiot.

He awkwardly put his hat back on, about to turn and leave, when a cold voice rang out, "I heard those people say they’re willing to trade their lives for the enemy’s maximum loss?"

The Chief Winged Cavalry was startled.

"So it really is you... The defenders of the second turret are indeed prepared, myself included."

When he mentioned including himself, Ulm felt somewhat lacking in confidence. After all, he knew his death in the trial wouldn’t be real, so equating himself with the others made him feel a bit ashamed.

"Tell them for me, I will grant their wish."

Furin’s tone was icy, but anyone familiar with her could hear the suppressed bloodthirst and excitement within.

She had been engrossed in tedious work these past days, not because she had truly changed, but because she felt like a giant spider squatting on a web. With each magic array she set up, she could imagine the enemy’s tragic fate stepping into it.

And now, the strands on the web had been triggered by prey, and she was eager to unleash her destructive desires.

...

In the sky, the familiar figure of the Three-headed Demon Dragon appeared once more.

Yet before the crowd could cheer, an earthy yellow glow filled the entire sky, as if the heavens and earth were inverted, and the once-soaring demon dragon had its speed drastically reduced under the yellow glow.

Nearly a hundred Royal Mages ascended like shooting stars, about to stage a dragon-slaying spectacle that hadn’t been seen in Europe for a century.

"Boss, we can’t fly anymore!"

"Damn it, if our domain were still active, these lowly mortals’ magic wouldn’t affect us at all."

The knight on the dragon’s back sneered, "Don’t bluff. I’ve experienced your domain—at least a hundred casters created this stasis magic array. Even at your peak, you’d be stuck."

"Using it on you now is overkill, probably intended for me originally."

"Ladon, it’s your time to shine."

Losa raised his voice. They expended great effort to kill Ladon for the banner, so they may as well let them kill him.

"What? Me?"

The Poisonous Dragonhead felt apprehensive. Though it loved boasting, it knew its own limitations.

No chance to backtrack, it felt a lightness on its back as Losa entered a half-dragon state, shrouded in law-breaking dragon qi, effortlessly breaking free from the stasis technique, flying towards the enemy camp at the foot of the mountain.

Using Ladon as a sacrifice, even wagering his own life, he wanted to see what price the Brits were willing to pay.

...

Ulm carefully emerged, carrying an iron box.

Inside was a high-explosive bomb filled with white crystals—even in an underground bunker, no one dared to approach it lightly—a trump card prepared by the second turret.

"Good!"

The face of the lead Corner was filled with determination. He gave a deep look at the soldiers in the trenches, undoubtedly transforming into a werewolf, clutching the iron box and charging forward.

This iron box, if thrown, was too large a target and would be easily shot by the enemy prematurely.

To achieve

The terrifying explosion forced both enemy and ally to lower their heads.

But when the dust cleared, the iron wall formed by the King’s Shield was only slightly damaged.

"Ridiculous. No one understands white crystal better than the Empire! A mere single high-explosive bomb trying to break our shield is pure folly!"

Geoffrey, leader of the King’s Shield and second in succession to the Iron Duke, only a rank below the leader of the King’s Blade, sneered beneath his iron helmet.

He raised his voice and commanded, "Quickly advance, charge into the enemy trenches, and kill every living thing in front of you!"

At this moment, none could describe the depth of despair in the hearts of the turret defenders. Their resistance was akin to the last struggles before death.

But they had already anticipated this outcome. Without Mr. Losa, they might have perished entirely on the first day of battle.

As the King’s Shield ascended the trenches, the following armored infantry began shooting.

A massacre began.

Bam.

The iron armor fell to the ground, Ulm clutching his chest, pain muddling his consciousness.

"God, this is the worst yet."

He murmured softly and exited the stage.

In the trench, scarlet blood flowed—it should have soaked into the soil and crevices, but now it was like a bubbling brook.

A blood blossom bloomed at an armored infantryman’s feet, and he silently fell.

His face was intoxicated, cheeks sunken, emaciated, as all his blood swiftly drained into the scarlet flower, which seemed thoroughly satiated, growing increasingly vivid.

This chain reaction soon spread to a member of the King’s Shield.

He suddenly looked down, crushing the blood flower underfoot, but just as he opened his mouth to warn, he was utterly drained, left standing lifelessly.

Furin wore a cruel smile, clutching a trembling heart connected by thick arteries—the owner was the King’s Shield beneath the Armor Shield.

These ironclad brutes indeed boasted formidable defense, but no protection exists in this world that offers "incredible physical defense, magic resistance, and mental attack immunity, shielding against accursed malevolence."

In fact, both the King’s Shield and King’s Blade possessed multiple sets of armor, choosing components based on enemy traits before battle, adjusted by technicians for combat.

The Wolf Race, in general, were not skilled in magic, and in the previous battles, Furin had never shown herself. The King’s Shield’s pre-battle defense enhancements never considered magic resistance.

Furin’s purpose here was to bury the King’s Shield, an elite force that even Jeanne couldn’t handle with her life-burning Holy Spear, at the second turret, cutting off the enemy’s strongest assault power except for the floating airship in the sky.