Blood tax

Chapter 605 F2, A!

"Who am I?"

"Where am I?"

"What am I going to do?"

Brunaf, who had just rushed to the front line, felt like he had had a big dream, and when he woke up, he still felt dizzy.

He looked around and saw that all the young men in the tribe were as confused as he was. The ground was littered with corpses of all sizes, dying wounded soldiers twisting their bodies, horses with broken bellies kicking their hooves, burning flags, broken weapons and armor soaked in blood, and trampled into the soil by the soldiers coming and going.

The screams of agony were heard everywhere, and the half-elf heavy infantry were pushing and shouting in the crowd.

Suddenly, several knights on black skeleton warhorses passed by from the side. One of the female knights was holding a blonde girl in one hand and rushed towards Birnaf, knocking away several staggering orc guys and galloping towards the north without looking back.

Brunaf fell to the ground with a thud, and looked up to see an orange-red fireball hanging in the sky.

After the strong light and shock wave dissipated, the fireball gradually extinguished, leaving behind a magnificent sea of ​​fire in the clouds. Burning fragments continued to fall from the sky and scattered all over the battlefield. These meteorite-like fragments still had pale red residual flames burning.

"Brunav, get up! Get up!"

In a daze, the orc felt someone grabbing his breastplate and dragging him along the ground. He turned his head and saw Aslante pulling him with all her might.

"Hey, honey, what's up?"

The shadow priestess raised her foot and kicked him in the face. The orc woke up completely and jumped up from the ground.

"Hurry up, tell everyone to retreat!" Miss Troll shouted anxiously, "The restrictions on us have been lifted, let's leave now!"

"Let's go, where?"

Confused, Brunaf heard a series of military trumpets and commands coming from afar.

"All squadrons... stop!"

As soon as he looked up, he saw a sudden wall of people appearing behind the thin smoke, and many figures were gathering under the wall. Densely packed bayonets raised a half-burned flag, and dense drum beats sounded rapidly.

"Damn it, these humans are preparing for an assault!" Birnaf's whole body tensed up, his warrior instinct having aroused his memory.

"Stand still, return to the team! You damned barbarians!" A half-elf officer pushed Birnaf hard and shouted to Aslante beside him, "Fight in close combat, archers..."

Before the half-elf could finish his words, Birnaf swung his axe at him and chopped him in two.

The body, broken at the waist, fell to the ground, spurting blood. The surrounding orcs and troll infantry were in a commotion. Warm blood splashed on the corners of Birnaf's mouth. He stuck out his tongue, licked it, and rolled his eyes.

He snatched the battle flag from the warrior next to him, channeled his Qi into his Dantian, and roared toward the sky:

"Our army is defeated!
"Brothers and sisters, run for your lives!"

After saying this, he pulled up the big flag embroidered with the emblem of the Elven Servant Army, bent the flagpole to his knees, broke it into two parts and threw it on the ground, then picked up Aslanthe and ran towards the northwest.

"We lost, we lost!"

The soldiers of the Flint Tribe also followed the chief's lead in making a commotion, snatched the weapons and armor at hand, stabbed the half-elf who was caught off guard, and then fled in a swarm.

With the support of the Wishing Device, Griffith used and adjusted the War Path Sequence 4 ability "Orbital Bombardment" and detonated the Tear of Luna in mid-air.

The world briefly returned to an era without magic. All spellcasters could no longer sense the presence of magic, and there was only a noisy noise like snowflakes in their ears. The withered spellcasters who were fighting in the army a few minutes ago all lost control, first attacking indiscriminately without distinguishing between friend and foe, and then scattering and fleeing. Some rushed into the river and drowned like lemmings, while others fled to the dark forests and swamps on the edge of Canaan.

The orcs and trolls who fought under Fiona's influence first fought with the half-elves and death knights in the team, and then collapsed one by one.

"Counterattack on all fronts!"

Griffith said to Roland, who could hear his orders, "Immediately command all troops to counterattack and defeat them before the elves' magic network is restored!"

Battlefield communications had been completely cut off, and many heralds were killed in the battle. However, Griffith was sure that once the Central Army launched a counterattack, the entire Grand Republican Army would be mobilized!
The 10th Army and the Cavalry immediately took action, and more than 100 squadrons were assembled under the eagle banner of Christa. Other units also quickly assembled after seeing their neighbors preparing to attack.

Griffith jumped on a warhorse and ran with Roland along the broad front, shouting orders as they ran.

Roland shouted: "The whole army will charge in formation and attack head-on!

Griffith shouted beside him, "The volley is under the command of the bugle, and no shots are allowed before fifteen paces!"

"Ah?" Roland was stunned for a moment, "So bold?"

"We must defeat the enemy as quickly as possible and not give them time to regroup," Griffith confirmed. "After one volley, the entire army will charge with bayonets and fight to the bottom of the White Tower!"

About 30,000 infantrymen formed a horizontal formation, stretching from the Tyrne River to the multi-faceted fort, forming a wide front. More troops were constantly joining in. Some of the elven troops on the other side of this battle line were still attacking, some were disintegrating, and others were gathered together waiting for orders.

Since the command systems of both sides failed, most of the elves watched the humans line up in front of them. The dark infantry battle line began to advance to the beat of the drums.

The sound of artillery thunder rang out. The artillery of both sides fired without command. Pashu mixed with the grenadiers and the musketeers, and the dense formation made everyone's arms almost touching. He could not find Lanzada, Desai and Kallen, but only saw a thin girl wearing a large helmet and holding a flag walking in front.

Griffith and Roland, the two commanders, ran past the front of the team like the wind. Every time they passed a squadron, the sergeants and flag bearers raised their flags, and the ups and downs of bayonets and helmets were like the tide. The little girl holding the flag also tried her best to respond to the commanders, and all the former Confederate soldiers in the team cheered them like crazy.

"Orders require us to advance to fifteen paces, and then charge with bayonets after a volley!"

"The pointy-eared villain is doomed! Comrades, fight to Canaan!"

The girl holding the flag stood beside Pasho. The grenadiers and the flag bearers walked in front, and together they marched towards the Canaanite troops.

"I am Loper, from Verona," the girl said to Pasio beside her, "Did your family divide the land?"

"Hmm? Ah?" Paxiu was stunned for a moment, "I haven't been back for a long time, I don't know."

"Don't talk!" the officer in charge shouted.

"Then you work hard!" the little girl muttered like a chatterbox, "If you win this battle, your family will get a share!"

Heavy artillery fire crossed the sky, leaving behind a hissing sound, and exploded in the ranks. The Great Republican Army's horizontal formation was pierced in many places, but it still couldn't stop the advance of tens of thousands of infantry. Some soldiers were killed by artillery shells, and the people behind them immediately filled the gap.

Roland rode on his horse with his command knife in hand. The artillery fire from the opposite side raised gray-yellow smoke columns in the sand, and gravel and soil flew everywhere. There were waves of vibrations under his feet, and there were large holes with smoke everywhere.

Roland's heart beat faster than a snare drum, his throat was dry, and his mind was a little blank. Faintly, he heard Griffith, who was a horse's length away, muttering something:
"Flintlock rifles, assembly line production, the military-industrial complex, reserve army training,

"Grenade fuses, rockets, artillery mathematics, fire support theory,
"Steam turbines, shipping management, battlefield transportation,

“The last one, mobilization!
"These are the 12 secret codes of human civilization, an army of 20 forged by steel, steam, grassroots organizations, and industrial systems. Even if this army is destroyed here, there are more than 20 reinforcements gathering from all over the world!"

These 12 secret words aroused Roland's pride. He was suddenly no longer afraid or nervous. The army he had painstakingly built and decades of operational planning had resulted in just one bold statement. Roland rode his horse, whipped it, and shouted in the direction of the White Tower:
"F2, A!"