Chapter 117: Battle's End

The Shalorian remnants, who had been surrounded in the centre, stared fixedly at the Faustian soldiers who were less than two steps away from them. The Faustian soldiers also looked at the Shalorian soldiers fiercely, as if they were looking at their prey.

"Kill!"

After the short staredown, they all began to attack each other at the same time.

Swords were swung and men were killed. The Shalorian remnants were knocked to the ground.

The Shalorian remnants were no match for the Faustian soldiers. Without the support of the strong walls, it was impossible for them to fight with the Faustian army, as they had ten times more men than them.

There were only two or three hundred Shalorian soldiers left in the square, while the Faustian army had nearly ten thousands of men.

Shalor's ranks continued to shrink, and there were only less than fifty men left. The ordinary soldiers were almost all dead. The ones who were still standing were the armoured commanders and nobles.

The Shalorian king's face was stained in blood as he stood there, holding his sceptre. At this moment, the old man stood taller than most of the nobles there.

Blood trickled down the king's face. No one knew whether it was his or someone else's.

The top of the sceptre which symbolised the king's power was also stained red with some brain matter. It seemed like the king was not an ordinary person.

Meanwhile, Felippe was coughing non-stop as blood spurted out from his mouth.

Other than the king, who'd been surrounded in the centre, the margrave was also the Faustian soldiers' main target, given how much his head was worth.

Suddenly, someone started clapping and the Faustian soldiers who surrounded the Shalorian soldiers stepped aside to make way for someone to walk through.

Kenzir held a longsword as he walked towards them. Marmen and Shia followed alongside him.

"Old king, you really are vigorous." Whether Kenzir was complimenting the king sincerely or was taking the opportunity to mock him was uncertain.

Although the king was already in his fifties, he had just smashed in the skulls of several Faustian soldiers. He was still as domineering as before.

The king looked at the high-spirited Kenzir and he couldn't help but sigh. "The young generation is terrible."

"He got a good son indeed!" said the king. Of course, he was talking about the current Faustian king. It seemed that the Shalorian and Faustian kings were old acquaintances.

"Surrender and I'll spare you your life!" said Kenzir as he held up his scabbard.

"Hahaha!" The king laughed as if he'd heard something funny. "In your dreams!"

Kenzir didn't bother about the maniacally laughing king. He wasn't expecting the old man to really surrender anyway. He turned and looked at Felippe.

It wasn't because there was something in particular about him; Kenzir was just curious.

Clark and Campbell were among Shalor's three pillars, and they had both impressed Kenzir by causing huge losses to the Faustian army. He wanted to see how Felippe, the last margrave, looked like.

Kenzir was disappointed. Felippe had neither a strong physique nor an impressive demeanour; he was just an ordinary middle-aged man.

The sharp gaze between his eyes made him look very shrewd. Kenzir was not surprised that was the case, however.

"Well then." Kenzir turned around and walked towards the hall of the palace.

"Send the two big shots off!" The prince's voice could be heard faintly.

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"Kill! Kill!"

"Kill! Kill!"

Countless Faustian soldiers rushed towards the Shalorian king and the others who'd been surrounded. The few dozen Shalorian remnants yelled their last battle cry.

The king and Felippe were the loudest among them.

Unfortunately, their resistance and battle cries made no difference. After the clash, only dead bodies and blood were left on the ground.

Up in the clouds, four people were currency observing the palace under them. They all felt different emotions.

"It's over!" A man dressed as a knight spoke first.

"Yes... It's over..." A hooded old man who seemed like a caster sighed.

The other two didn't say anything. Surprisingly, one of them was actually the deputy jarl of the Falcon, as well as one of the four margraves in Faustian, De Sandro.

Interestingly, the knight who spoke first, De Sandro, and the other knight, formed a triangle and surrounded the caster.

"You all need to calm down. I've already promised to not do anything, and I will keep my word." This old man was the guardian Magister of Shalor, Meister Kareda.

"Casters value their oaths as much as you knights abide by your code!" said Kareda.

"It better be true!" The leader of the three knights was naturally the most powerful knight in Faustian, Romm.

Unlike Kareda, who'd been spectating the battle calmly, Romm and the others were anxious. They were afraid that the caster couldn't refrain himself from casting a large-scale spell.

With the terrifying strength of a Magister, he could easily kill and injure thousands of ordinary people if he'd casted an intermediate spell on them.

Faustian had already won. The three knights who were at the peaks of Faustian didn't want their country and troops to suffer any unnecessary losses anymore.

Kareda didn't say anything else and flew towards the back of the palace slowly. He had already made an agreement with Romm to bring the Lehrlings back safely. This was the privilege his power afforded him.

Before Kareda left, he composed a message using his mental power and transmitted it to Romm's mind. Romm moved his lips slightly and answered Kareda's doubts.

After hearing the answer, Kareda understood and sighed before flying off.

Kareda's question was very simple. Clark was clearly the best among all the Ritters and he was a genius who'd been taken note of by the Aomar Empire. How did the Faustians manage to kill Clark? The Battle of Gordon Heights was the crucial battle that tipped the scales against Shalor's favour after all.

"Two years ago, you all killed that fellow Clark. Do you think the Hall of Knights will let you be?" This was the verbatim of Kareda's message.

Just like how Magisters would be restrained by the Sanctum, those who'd become a Ritter would also register themselves at the Hall of Knights.

Every grand level elite was a rare and valuable asset. Any of their losses would attract the attention of the two major organizations.

If there wasn't any valid reason for killing Clark, the Hall of Knights should be penalising Faustian soon. It was possible that those who were involved in Clark's death would be imprisoned for life.

Although they didn't have that much protection like how the Sanctum protected the casters, the Hall of Knights also looked out for its members. Otherwise, most of the Ritters wouldn't have joined this organization.

Romm gave a simple answer. "Actually, I've already advanced to Erdritter two years ago."

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