CHAPTER 60: FLAMES

Chapter 60: Flames

In the darkness, the gate of the fortified camp swung open. Even for a band of desert robbers who moved like the wind, a foothold was necessary in this desert to escape the scorching daylight and the bone-chilling nights.

Thus, a secluded camp, possessing a hidden water source, came into being.

It was nestled within the embrace of several earthen mounds. From the outside, nothing seemed amiss. But if one were to ascend to the top of the mounds, they would discover a hidden world within: a sprawling wooden stockade.

At this moment, the bandits left on guard duty stared in astonishment as their companions, who had set out full of arrogance, boasting of returning with a whole cartload of gold and silver, now poured through the main gate like dogs that had lost their homes, their faces filled with terror.

"What on earth happened, my brothers!"

"Where are the others? Why are only you back?"

"We were defeated! Those terrifying Frankish barbarians despicably used a terrible magic that uses blood as a medium! They are incarnations of demons!"

Someone, still shaken, stammered, "We shouldn’t have provoked those demons! There were only seven of them, yet they cut down our warriors as if chopping vegetables, sending them fleeing in disarray!"

"By the Holy Fire, I beg you to burn away the evil curse that has tainted us!" Someone, having just rushed through the camp gate, prostrated himself on the ground, piously praying to the Holy Fire altar enshrined in the center of the camp.

Abd watched this scene, his face dark, the rage and anxiety within him almost consuming him entirely. His expression grim, Abd said, "Have everyone prepare their defenses! Barto, take some men and prepare the offerings needed for the ’Great Ritual.’ I am going to perform the Great Holy Fire Ritual!"

"Yes, Milord!" Barto, a man with a hideous wound of raw flesh gaping on his cheek—an injury inflicted by a Frankish cavalryman wearing a helmet that looked like bull’s horns—acknowledged the order with a somber expression and departed.

Abd said gravely, "Order a strict watch tonight. Only half the men are to sleep; the rest are to be on standby at all times!"

Someone asked doubtfully, "Chief, aren’t we being too cautious? They can’t possibly find our camp, and even if they do, they can’t do anything in the dead of night."

"Exactly, Chief! We’ve all sworn an oath to the Holy Fire. If anyone dares to reveal the camp’s location, they’ll be instantly burned to ashes!"

"Silence, you fools!" Abd’s face showed a rare trace of fear. "Do you know what I saw?"

They had never seen such an unfamiliar emotion on their chief’s face before; for a moment, they all fell silent. Usually, the chief gave them the impression of being wise, intelligent, brave, and fearless.

Abd’s hoarse voice sounded, "I saw that Frankish lord’s woman use the black shield in her hand to devour souls! Oaths only work on the living; the dead are beyond the jurisdiction of the Holy Fire."

He looked at his silent subordinates, a bleak smile on his face. "Go and prepare. If those Franks truly find this place, they need only surround us, and we will be trapped here to die. No one will venture deep into Frankish territory to rescue a bunch of bandits like us!"

***

In the latter half of the night, armored sergeants waited in the darkness, some nervous, some excited, for their lord to give the order to attack. Some silently clutched crosses, praying devoutly. Siege ladders and a simple battering ram, crafted by the accompanying carpenter, were already in position.

Someone whispered, "My chainmail is already very worn out. This time, Milord promised we can dispose of the spoils ourselves. I’m definitely getting a new suit of armor!"

"Shut up!" Moder, his face stern, slapped the man on the helmet. "No one is to speak before Milord gives the order!"

The soldiers fell silent. They lay quietly resting in the grass; the overnight march had consumed most of their stamina and energy. This was precisely why Lothar hadn’t launched an immediate attack.

Lothar was currently calculating the time. The Winged Hussars had all removed the feather decorations from their armor and, armed with broadswords and one-handed maces, clustered around him.

He had brought sixty armored sergeants this time, mobilizing almost all his pack animals and even borrowing packhorses and camels from several villages—it could almost be said he had deployed his entire force.

"It’s about time. Order everyone to prepare for battle," Lothar said. In the darkness, he gripped a hand-and-a-half sword, forgoing a cumbersome shield. Only Banu accompanied him.

Fringilla’s magical power was depleted; she was recuperating at the rear. This was because she had cast a spell called "Mass Night Vision," which lasted for two hours. Otherwise, Lothar’s army could never have silently approached the vicinity of the stockade without torches.

The chaotic sounds below quickly alerted the defenders on the stockade walls. By the firelight, they saw savage faces encased in iron armor, grinning fiercely as they charged towards them.

"It’s the Franks!"

"By the Holy Fire, these demons actually came!"

Lothar led the charge, rushing at the very front. He wasn’t far from Level 4; killing a dozen more men should be enough to level up successfully.

Although as a lord, personal attributes weren’t the priority for improvement, throughout history, countless monarchs and leaders had been assassinated. Moreover, as a Crusader noble, personally leading troops into battle was commonplace; there would always be times when Banu couldn’t protect him.

He cut down a bandit with a single stroke, only to feel that an endless number of bandits were pouring out from the barracks in the darkness. Their reaction speed was too fast, as if they had long anticipated their arrival.

Fortunately, bows and arrows were of little use in such a chaotic battle. The darkness was the best cover for the armored sergeants, who were "blessed by the Heavenly Father"; they wantonly cut down the enemies they couldn’t see clearly, some even shouting a few phrases in Arabic to cause confusion.

The battering ram smashed open the wooden gate with a boom. The armored sergeants roared and poured in.

Just then, a cluster of flames shot up rapidly in the darkness, rising tens of meters high. The entire camp was illuminated as if by daylight.

Abd, the bandit chief, knelt devoutly before the flames, continuously throwing in silver, gold, silk, and various spices. The flames leaped higher and higher, then transformed into a giant fire serpent. Abd’s sharp eyes, with their cold, vertical pupils, precisely locked onto Lothar on the wall.

The two exchanged a glance, and the next moment, the fire serpent flew rapidly towards him. Even before it drew near, the assaulting heat made Lothar feel a searing pain.

For a moment, he didn’t even know which way to flee, because this fire serpent clearly had a tracking function.

The terrified armored sergeants watched this scene, bewildered, murmuring, "Heavenly Father above, this is the infidels’ evil witchcraft!"

"This is the Holy Fire the infidels worship!"

A silent figure stepped in front of Lothar, her flowing black hair dancing in the wind. Lothar’s terrified heart quickly calmed. Though she looked so much more slender than him, Banu, at this moment, seemed as mighty as the Theodosian Walls in Lothar’s mind.

Her black shield spun rapidly in her hand. The demon-faced relief on it unwillingly spewed out large amounts of black mist, which swirled before the shield, expanding the less-than-two-meter-long black shield larger and larger.

’Bang—’ The fire serpent crashed into it. The demon-faced relief emitted a sharp shriek. Large swathes of black mist disintegrated.

Flying sparks splashed onto the stockade’s wooden walls, instantly igniting a raging fire. Lothar clearly saw several sparks land on Banu’s arm, instantly burning away her sleeve and searing large, puckered blisters onto her smooth skin.

"Damn it!"

"Damn it!"

Two angry curses sounded almost simultaneously.

Abd could never have imagined that the sure-kill blow he had obtained through the Great Holy Fire Ritual would be blocked by this evil witch using sorcery. A wave of dejection involuntarily surged through his heart. "Holy Fire above, is your might ultimately inferior to that of the infidels who usurp the Holy Land?"

’Swish—’ A sharp hand-and-a-half sword slashed down from above. Abd instinctively leaped forward; the blade only grazed his back, deflected to the side by the armor plates there.

"Abd, I gave you a chance, but you gave it up."

Abd’s face was a mixture of anger and fear. "The children of the Zoroastrian faith will not submit to you butchers from Francia!"

Lothar was in no mood for a war of words with him. Throughout history, the victor will rule and the loser... well there are no more losers.

It was as simple as that.

’Thump, thump, thump—’ His heart pounded like a drum. Beneath Lothar’s great helm, his breathing became extremely heavy. The surge in attributes from Bloodfall allowed him, in the next moment, to strike out with his sword like lightning.

Abd’s eyes widened. His eyes sharpened by magic allowed him to see his opponent’s movements, but his body simply couldn’t react in time. In an instant, his head was lopped off by the sharp hand-and-a-half sword.

Lothar didn’t even give the head a chance to fall to the ground before he snatched it, held it high, and let out a roar full of energy: "Abd is dead! Those who stop resisting will not be killed!"