Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks

Chapter 865 - 89: Tyrant

"What? Hold the line and wait for reinforcements?"

The front-line commander who received the telegram from the rear, the division leader from the Quebec Division, expressed disbelief: "Our soldiers are disappearing like snowflakes; this is a trap, we are charging into the pit of fire!"

Each army’s command system is lagging, and Marshal Julian hasn’t been on the front lines personally. He relied solely on the accounts of the front-line officers, and his decision was straightforward: he ordered the front-line units to secure a foothold on the enemy’s walls with subsequent troops immediately following.

This was originally not wrong; historically, the hardest part of attacking a city is scaling the enemy’s walls.

From the front-line battle reports, Marshal Julian obtained the information that—just a little more effort, and exertion, the heart of Texas, New Basilicata, would be in his grasp.

As for the assassins from the Wolf Race infiltrating, the artillery, and the support troops being attacked, it was nothing more than the Texans resorting to desperate suicide attacks to delay the dreadful offensive from our side.

But the gap between imagination and reality was too great.

...

As the artillery fell silent, subsequent units faced attacks, and the offensive momentum of the British Army started to slow down.

Since the order was to hold the line and wait for reinforcements, the first batch of the Quebec Division to scale the wall completely gave up on attacking, relying on the walls for defense, trying to secure a foothold on the walls as if a wedge firmly nailed into New Basilicata.

In the alley, a Werewolf Centurion, seemingly soaked in blood, held a head still attached to part of its spine, laughing, "I thought all these Brits were brain-damaged by forbidden drugs."

Another elite Cornerhead sneered: "They plan to use our walls for defense; their calculations are good, but the Clan Leader already foresaw this."

Inside the walls of New Basilicata are complex underground bunkers, all exits of which are known only to Texans. Moreover, some apparent pathways are actually dead ends.

The Wolf Race team in the alley quickly dove into the passages within the walls.

Moments later, the sound of battle, gunfire, erupted once more on the walls.

...

In the sky, accompanied by a piercing roar, a giant steam airship disintegrated, turning into countless burning fragments, whose remnants fell into the city, triggering a series of explosions.

Furinjira could no longer focus on these minor details; managing the entire New Basilicata Magic Array system, she was indeed terrifyingly strong, but there were too many enemies.

The casters from the Royal Mage Corps, individually weak, but collectively not to be underestimated even against a Legendary Mage. Most of them were lower-tier mages, so much so that in the Middle Ages, even a newly apprentice-free mage like Nishaya would surpass them significantly in knowledge breadth.

But precisely because their approach was driven by quick success without future prospects, it bred a large batch of caster teams akin to consumables, whose destruction power was formidable without any heartache for their usage.

Seemingly realizing the Antimagic Bomb’s limited effect on Blood Magic, the airships on the city walls no longer dropped such bombs, instead opting for pure White Crystal Bombs, aiming to forcibly burst through the Magic Array’s tolerance threshold with immense destructive power.

Furthermore, a hundred or so casters flew out from the cabin, surrounding a white-robed clergy, gathering the magic power onto the ancient cross in his hands.

The white-robed clergy sang exorcism prayers in a high voice, overlooking the vast mountain city from above.

In the skies above the city, he vaguely saw a face wearing a White Bone Crown, exposed with exquisite tiger teeth, sneering coldly at him.

"Be vigilant and alert. Your adversary, the Devil, prowls like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."

His chanting grew more resounding: "I have given you authority to trample snakes and scorpions, and overcome all the enemy’s powers; nothing will harm you."

The golden cross transformed in his hands into a long spear inlaid with gems, jewels, and gold: "All evil spirits and demons, under the Lord’s holy light, be sent to Hell to report!"

With that, he forcefully hurled the Holy Spear, infused with the combined might of over a hundred casters and the elements of earth, fire, wind, and water.

The cross fell like a meteor, and before approaching the mountain city, blood-colored ripples surged atop the city, swirling rapidly as if leading to another world’s passage.

Following that, a massive blood hand extended from the vortex, gripping the spear point directly.

Sizzle—

Smoke boiled.

Visibly, the hand’s color grew increasingly faint, but soon another hand extended from the vortex, fiercely grasping the sky, and the white-robed clergy felt the world spin; when he opened his eyes again, all around was blood-red.

And in the blood-red world, a colossal figure, akin to a giant from Eastern myths creating heaven and earth, clad in armor made of dense white bones, overlooking him with grandeur.

"Tyrant, Dracula’s bloodline..."

The white-robed clergy couldn’t help but exclaim.

Through the vortex overhead, he could still dimly see their vast floating airships and over a hundred floating casters, but at this moment, his sole thought was to shout: "Run, hurry!"

"Ha—"

The "Tyrant" grasped the flying "Holy Spear" with one hand, while the other clenched the void, instantly exploding a figure in the sky. The essence-filled blood of the caster sprayed everywhere, almost visibly solidifying the Tyrant’s hand, which had become ethereal from touching the Holy Object.

Seeing this, the white-robed clergy’s eyes bulged with resolve and decisively chose to sacrifice his life, transforming his entire body into a burning torch, with terrifying Holy Flames blazing behind him.

"Perish, monsters destined for Hell!"

The Tyrant seemed startled by his resolute gesture, trying to throw him out of the Blood Domain.

But the white-robed clergy grew increasingly fervent, shouting as he activated the Holy Spear, willing to self-destruct to pin down the Tyrant’s hand, and the blood-red world was engulfed in boundless Holy Flames.

Despite facing extreme agony, the white-robed clergy remained calm.

For the Empire, for the world to rid of this demon, such a merit deserved to ascend to Heaven and stand beside God.

"Foolish old man, just like that woman Jeanne, always burning themselves like idiots."

In front of him, the Tyrant "struggling" in the flames, suddenly