Chapter 373: The Last Hero
Earl Jacob did not sit idly by. Using the agility and dynamic vision of a Warrior, he maneuvered through the artillery fire, dodging one shell after another.
However, he knew this was not the end.
Earl Jacob looked up into the distance, squinting slightly, as if his gaze pierced through the thick smoke of battle.
Over the months, through countless brutal trench battles and the sacrifice of tens of thousands of lives, he had completely discerned the "three-pronged tactics" of the Ember Army.
First, bombard with cannons. Then, let the Wyverns sweep through. Finally, the infantry and cavalry ground forces finish the job.
"Roar—"
Sure enough, a long dragon roar echoed.
A disordered mass of black shadows appeared on the horizon, rolling forward like dark clouds, pressing toward Fyor Castle.
Earl Jacob roared,
"Wyverns! Watch the skies!"
However, before the soldiers could even climb out of their fortifications, the two-legged Wyverns dove toward the city walls.
Chaotic shadows danced wildly, and blazing flames engulfed the ramparts.
Soldiers unable to dodge were ignited, struggling incessantly until they became charred corpses.
Yet, this was merely one wave of the assault. After diving through the city, the Wyverns ascended again, skillfully circling back to launch another attack.
"Disperse! Disperse!"
Earl Jacob roared.
These 3,000 remaining soldiers were his last hope and the most loyal soldiers to him and the Northern United Kingdom.
He had endured several attacks like this, each resulting in devastating losses to his forces.
Yet even so, Earl Jacob was still powerless to stop it.
Every individual is bound by their origin, education, and the era they belong to. Jacob Rosa was one of the Northern Kingdom's finest commanders, but in the face of such cross-era, land-and-air combined assaults, he could find no solutions.
All he could do was summarize ways to build fortifications and disperse forces to minimize losses, yet he had no strategy for counterattacks.
And just a few rounds of bombardment and Wyvern sweeps cost him another 500 precious soldiers.
Filled with unvented rage, Earl Jacob stretched out his hand.
"Bring me a strong bow."
A soldier immediately handed over a massive black bow over two meters long.
Earl Jacob skillfully nocked an arrow.
His arm muscles bulged, veins popping out.
With his tempered, unparalleled strength, he fully drew the bowstring of a longbow even orcs struggled to pull.
"Monsters of the Ember Kingdom!"
"Perish with my soldiers!"
A piercing whistle sliced through the air.
"Swoosh—"
The sharp arrow penetrated a Wyvern and its rider simultaneously. The Wyvern flailed its wings feebly, howling as it plummeted into the wilderness.
Its fall even caused several other Wyverns behind it to collide, creating chaos in midair.
Earl Jacob roared, "Monsters! You will never defeat the Scanians!"
"Shoot them down!"
"My Lord!"
Yet the number of Wyverns was overwhelming, and although the soldiers launched arrows in retaliation...
Not everyone was as powerful a Warrior as Earl Jacob. The Wyverns shot down by the soldiers were few and far between.
More arrows lost momentum and fell mid-flight, while the flames spewed by the Wyverns took the lives of the archers.
This was an unequal battle.
After several more diving sweeps, the walls were engulfed in flames and littered with corpses.
Dolo, watching the distant walls, glanced at the watch on his wrist and coldly ordered,
"Inform the melee units to prepare for a siege."
"Yes, Marshal."
The hobgoblin general under his command responded immediately.
Snowflakes fell gently, drifting onto the city walls.
A chilling atmosphere of slaughter filled the air.
The walls were deathly silent.
Earl Jacob gazed at the Ember Kingdom's army advancing like a thick wall in the distance. His eyes suddenly sharpened as if he had made a firm decision.
"Even if I die, I will die on the glorious battlefield! Saddle my horse!"
"Everyone, attack with me beyond the walls!"
"Boom!"
The gates slowly opened.
Jacob Rosa, raising a tattered flag, charged forth on a white steed, leading 500 knights behind him.
He sought to die in a charge of glory.
To become part of the Northern Kingdom's epic of mourning, a heroic figure to be sung of, forever linking the name Jacob Rosa to valor and loyalty.
The sound of hooves echoed.
Against the tide of the Kingdom's forces, this group of fewer than 500 cavalry seemed like a trickle entering the ocean, frail and insignificant.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Dense gunfire rang out.
The knights charging alongside Earl Jacob fell one after another. Only Jacob, clad in his rare battle armor, continued his charge, as if nothing could stop him.
Soon, he was the only one left, charging alone on the battlefield.
"That's the enemy commander!"
"Kill him, and we'll be ennobled!"
The soldiers of the Ember Kingdom shouted fervently, brandishing their weapons as they rushed toward him.
"Holy crap, that boss has purple gear!"
"Let's go for it! Kill him!"
"Don't you dare steal my loot! Aaaah!"
The players shouted excitedly, unleashing various Professional techniques, hurling spells, concealed weapons, and even random objects at him as if they cost nothing.
Facing the tide of enemies rushing in, Earl Jacob sneered and roared with a ferocious expression,
"You cannot defeat me!"
"You will never make a true Scanian yield!"
"Perhaps I will die here today, but my unyielding soul will wander this land. I will become—a nightmare you'll never forget for the rest of your lives!"
"Come on, come—"
His voice suddenly faltered, his gaze becoming sluggish, and a red light flickered in his eyes.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Earl Jacob dismounted like a puppet on strings. He then raised his hands and even began removing his armor voluntarily.
He... surrendered?
"Forget everything else! Grab the loot!"
The players swarmed forward, afraid that someone else would snatch the rare treasure, plunging the scene into utter chaos.
"Bang!"
A sudden gunshot echoed sharply.
A bloody hole appeared on Earl Jacob's forehead.
His expression twisted into one of intense pain and agony.
Everyone quickly turned to see a scrawny human holding a steel rifle, its barrel still faintly smoking. His trembling hands betrayed his nervousness—and a serf's brand was visible on his neck.
Immediately after, more gunfire erupted, along with a deluge of spells that overwhelmed the Earl.
In the end, his sturdy body, riddled with wounds, slowly collapsed backward.
Meanwhile, the players surged forward like wild dogs fighting over scraps. Earl Jacob Rosa's rare relics became the center of a chaotic scramble.
"Damn it! The NPC stole the kill!"
"It's that guy again?"
"What ridiculous luck."
"Wait, hurry! Get the loot!!"
And thus, the last hero of the Northern United Kingdom fell.
A ripple in space appeared, and Langpu, the ogre archmage, stepped out with his staff in hand, his expression indifferent as he appeared beside the military record keeper.
"Lord Langpu?!"
"What are your orders?"
Faced with this unexpected, esteemed guest, the military record keeper trembled as he spoke, nearly dropping the pen from his unsteady grip.
"Write down what I say."
"In the Third Era, year 1786, Jacob Rosa, the remnant of the Northern United Kingdom, surrendered to the Kingdom but was beaten to death by enraged serfs during the process."
"Yes, my lord!"
"I will record every word exactly as you said. Every word you speak is absolute truth."
Jacob Rosa made one mistake—
History is always written by the victors.
And never by the mourners.