Chapter 1485 - 949: Turning Coat (Part 2)

Chapter 1485: Chapter 949: Turning Coat (Part 2)

Shouting rough and vulgar yet full of primitive strength and invigorating battle cries, using perhaps simple but absolutely practical weapons, fiercely tearing into the enemies.

Every successful kill through cooperation was met with heart-stirring shouts echoing across the battlefield.

They had long ceased to be mere cannon fodder, but instead had truly and solidly become an indispensable part of this highly efficient killing machine led by the Night Watchers.

Count Alfred stood silently on the hillside, his fingers clutching the sword hilt turning pale from exertion.

Watching his guards, who usually required strict training to barely maintain formation, now erupting with astonishing combat power and tenacity under the subtle influence of the Night Watchers’ magical gifts and the baptism of this brutal war, his heart was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

Deep pride for his soldiers fighting so valiantly, and an indescribable shock at the near-mighty system of the Night Watchers.

Moreover, a deep bitterness facing the unstoppable torrent of advancing times, feeling powerless to resist.

Night Watchers... have they reached such an unimaginable extent?

Look at these Night Watchers below, strictly speaking, they can only be considered ordinary soldiers by identity.

Yet, even these seemingly ordinary soldiers know how to guide others, seamlessly coordinating with their teammates, making the battle formation change like a precise clockwork according to their rhythm.

This is simply... unimaginable.

How did the Night Watchers achieve this?

If one delves into the inner workings of the Night Watchers, it becomes apparent that with their rapid development, to become a frontline Night Watcher now almost means you have to be a true elite.

Perhaps once the Night Watchers did not conduct thorough selection to supplement their combat power, but under the harsh trials of real battle and stringent requirements, those unsuitable have long been gradually eliminated, moved to logistics or other departments.

The Night Watchers now on the frontline, their personal qualities and the elite degree of teamwork are beyond doubt.

Normally, they still undergo strict education, especially the new generation of Night Watchers, who are elites among elites, each carefully cultivated.

Moreover, presently, the criteria for selecting Night Watchers have become increasingly stringent.

With the comprehensive opening of datafication slots, the absolute number of Night Watchers is no longer that important.

Problems that originally required enough manpower to solve are now entirely handled by adventurers scattered everywhere.

The huge Adventurer’s House system has perfectly filled the grassroots and some lower vacancies of the Night Watchers, precisely the areas that consume the most manpower.

The strategic focus of the Night Watchers now only centers on dealing with the most troublesome, more serious problems.

"Either keep up... or be eliminated..."

He looked at the battlefield soaked in endless blood and fire under the bleak sunset and intermittent spell glow, repeating in a low voice, eyes filled with struggle and decision, complex beyond measure.

Yet, the sword in his hand was held tighter than ever before, his knuckles whitening from sheer force.

At least now, his soldiers were "keeping up," wielding their swords on this cruel battlefield for the survival of the land beneath their feet.

And he had begun to firmly steer towards the Night Watchers in action.

Perhaps this does indeed wrong his old relatives and friends, those former allies.

But for the sake of his territory, for the so-called future of this land, he had no choice but to do so.

Continuing to try and restrain the Night Watchers had completely lost any practical meaning.

Soon, the distant sounds began to fade, and the void fluctuations became stable.

The clamor of battle finally completely subsided, leaving only the low groans of a handful of wounded and the laborious shouts of engineers transporting stone and repairing defenses.

The sunset dyed the sky a deeper orange, casting a heavy and sombre tone over the battlefield that had just endured blood and fire.

Amid the orderly reconstruction of defenses, a thunderous and rhythmic sound of hooves approached from the distant horizon.

A well-equipped, imposing unfamiliar Knight Order appeared in everyone’s view.

This unit of about a hundred people, each clad in polished, gleaming silver-gray heavy plate armor, their armor reflected a cold and dazzling light in the slanting sunlight, and the joints were engraved with intricate and exquisite lion-head relief patterns.

The tall warhorses beneath them were similarly adorned with fine silver-gray horse armor, only revealing their strong limbs and spirited eyes.

The entire unit moved with an aura of seasoned and well-trained murderous momentum, silently asserting their identity as kingdom elites.

A deep blue silk flag fluttered high in the wind.

At the center of the flag was an embroidered, majestic, open-mouthed silver lion with bristling mane.

This was the royal Knight Order of Alfred’s kingdom, the Kingdom of Orlan, the "Silver Lion Knight Order’s" emblem of honor.

The Night Watcher sentinels merely gave a calm glance at the flag, quickly confirming the identity of the arrivals before turning back to their watchful duties without further attention, like rocks.

Count Alfred squinted, watching from afar the familiar yet tardy Silver Lion banner.

His lips curled into a fleeting, barely perceptible sneer filled with deep irony and disdain.

The problem was solved, the dust settled, and then these "kingdom elites" arrived belatedly.

How... fittingly ironic a "timely" manner.

Yet his face quickly replaced with a warm and slightly weary smile, symbolically adjusting his scarred and stained damaged armor, and with determined strides, he approached boldly.

The Knight Order pulled their horses to a stop neatly not far from the crowd.

Leading them was a particularly tall and burly middle-aged man, his features chiseled and resolute, wearing a neat short beard, who deftly dismounted.

On his shining breastplate was a prominently inlaid golden lion-head badge, symbolizing his identity as the commander.

He strode steadily towards Alfred, his face bearing a noble, appropriately contrite smile.

"Count Alfred, My Lord!"

Commander Carroll’s voice was loud and resonant, with a hint of deliberately cultivated weathered tolerance.

"Terribly sorry! We raced here as soon as we received the alert, but encountered several bands of troublesome wandering void creatures on the way, regrettably, delaying us slightly.

"Fortunately, you are unharmed, and the battle has delightfully subsided, truly blessed by the gods!"

He placed his right hand over his chest, performing a knight salute impeccably.

’Raced here? Encountered obstructions?’ Alfred silently scoffed, more aware than anyone of the precise distance from the Royal Capital to here and the intensity of the tight warning network established by the Night Watchers along the way.

The supposed obstruction by the other party likely wouldn’t even count as a proper battle, merely an excuse to cover up their tardiness.

But his face was composed, betraying no hint, merely wearing a deeply understanding smile as he stepped forward, warmly patting the hard arm armor of Carroll.

"Commander Carroll, you’ve had a hard time. Your arrival is our greatest support. The battle indeed just ended not long ago, thanks to the Night Watcher warriors’ miraculous, swift responses, the land and my people were saved miraculously."

He deliberately and clearly emphasized the words "Night Watchers."

Commander Carroll’s smile seemed to subtly stiffen, only to return to normal quickly:

"The Night Watchers... indeed renowned, reputation well-deserved. Glad you are safe, My Lord."

He smoothly followed Alfred’s gesture as they walked back to the small hill overlooking the battlefield.

Standing on the vantage point, the bustling post-battle scene lay entirely before them.

A young commander of the Night Watchers was directing the Night Watcher warriors, territory guards, and some helpful, voluntarily assisting strong villagers with an efficient and clear voice, racing against time to swiftly repair the damaged defenses and reinforce the walls.

Orders were succinct and clear, division of labor extremely meticulous, and although a hive of activity, the entire scene was orderly.

Some Night Watcher warriors were patiently guiding the guards on how to more effectively transport the heavy enchanted stones, or personally demonstrating how to more securely embed glowing energy runes into the walls.