Chapter 1272 - 573: Preparations on Both Sides

Chapter 1272: Chapter 573: Preparations on Both Sides

"For the glory of our Lord!"

"For the glory of our Lord!!!"

The battle cry does not originate from the lungs, but from the deep tremor of the soul.

It tears through the ancient silence of the Mist Mountain Range like a giant stone thrown into the Dead Water Pool, stirring not ripples, but a turbulent wave.

Julia gazed at the legion surging with battle intent, turned around, and silently and seamlessly, a twin blade appeared in her hand, with energy patterns of icy blue and dark red intertwining along its blade.

Her slender yet upright figure stands before the army, appearing so frail compared to the torrent of steel and souls behind her, yet as unyielding as a reef.

She walks at the front of the formation, her steps steady and resolute.

After gathering the legion according to the Legion Commander’s orders, after seeing those excited eyes, Julia understood.

She suddenly understood the Legion Commander’s intention—this is not merely a war to kill the traitor.

Perhaps, for them, it is more of an opportunity.

After waiting countless ages, an opportunity to meet the end!

Not to perish in waiting, but to meet destruction in battle!

Or perhaps, it can be seen as a grand ritual.

Her gaze penetrates the churning fog that has been dispersed by the legion’s magic power, toward the distant horizon, where Elda awaits.

The destined end of this journey, and also possibly the end that all of them have awaited countless ages for... the end.

Behind her, the torrent of steel and souls begins to move, with hundreds of Heroic Spirit Warriors in armor acting as one, like a precise and ruthless war machine, roaring into motion.

The armor they wear is not mere iron, but forged from the glory of their past lives, the obsessions after death, and the Divine power granted by the Divine.

The surface is covered with ancient scratches and dim blood-red runes, each line telling an ancient war song forgotten by time.

They strike their armor with weapons, just as they have countless times before.

They make no attempt at concealment, indifferent to any possible spying.

Concealment?

No, there is no need for concealment.

They are already announcing themselves; they are the blade of the Divine, the walking calamity, the knell destined to echo through the world.

They want all spies to see, all those with false hopes to tremble, and that place of feigned tranquility to feel the chill from the grave ahead of time.

This is not trivial skirmish, requiring discretion in covert decapitations.

This is war.

A grand and unavoidable war!

Powerful magic power emanates like a tangible force field, expanding from the legion’s center in all directions, causing even the dense fog drifting over the mountains to retreat, revealing the sinister terrain below.

Where their feet tread, grass withers into ash instantly, the soil turns charred and compact, as if even the Earth cannot bear the intense death and conviction that clings to them.

This is not a curse, but the natural outpouring of their essence.

They are the dead, the echoes of Divine power lingering in the world.

Occasionally, a suppressed, painful, and insane soul scream resounds within the ranks, yet it is soon swallowed by an even greater silence.

These are individual consciousnesses worn down by long ages, momentarily breaking free from the legion’s will, uttering their final selfless cries.

It might lose control, but "they" will not lose control.

The individual’s turmoil is like a pebble in a torrent, vanishing instantly.

The legion’s collective will is as steadfast as a rock, a torrent of steel forged from a unanimous desire for "the end," capable of crushing any trivial personal emotion.

"..."

Julia’s eyes are sharp as a hawk’s, constantly scanning everything around.

Her perception spreads like an invisible web from her center in all directions.

Nothing escapes her soul’s gaze, from the crevices in rocks to the thin clouds behind them, even the faint tremors deep underground.

She can "hear" the Demons fleeing in terror from afar, can "smell" the sudden surge of elemental turbulence in the air as they arrive.

Her perception extends to its limits, wary of any possible ambush, unwilling to let her soldiers suffer any losses along the path.

Even if the end may be destruction, before reaching that final stage, she cannot allow this army representing the glory and power of our Lord to suffer a loss due to any unexpected interference.

This is dignity, an indispensable part of the ritual.

Yet, deep in Julia’s heart, she knows clearly that no matter what lies ahead, she can only move forward.

Her mind occasionally flashes with fragmented images.

Not a battlefield, but a sunny meadow, a blurry figure with a warm smile reaching out to her...

But in the next second, these images are replaced by the cold friction of metal armor and the low howl of Soul Energy.

Forward, towards Elda, towards the predetermined end.

Forward.

It is the only meaning of her existence, her singular anchor amidst eternal confusion.

This is not a war seeking victory, but a grand declaration.

To them, victory is already a hollow concept.

Inside every heart is a feeling that this is actually more... a sacrificial offering seeking release.

Julia and the army she leads are all sacrifices.

They offer up the remnants of their Soul Fire, the obsession extending thousands of years, all the amassed Power of Destruction and war.