That's right, that's what adventure is like!

Chapter 85 War

"The swords of ordinary people are merely decorations; only extraordinary roars can truly define war."

This sentence perfectly captures the scene here.

The sky was swirled into an orange-red by the surging flames, obscuring the bright moon and revealing only its blurry outline. Thick smoke rose from all directions, like black dragons twisting and writhing.

Besides the strong smell of blood, what entered my nostrils was a choking smoke mixed with the stench of feces and rotting flesh, and occasionally a strange sweetness, the afterglow of some kind of magic.

Countless sounds collided, squeezed, and distorted, making it impossible to distinguish whether they were the screams of the dying, the muffled booms of war drums, the hoarse roars of officers, or the rumble of some kind of large runic array.

Roland kicked away the corpse that was falling towards him and looked into the distance.

He was now in the middle of a slope, with thick smoke above and a plain ablaze with flames below.

There, two torrents collided, annihilating countless lives.

On the left is black, a square formation of soldiers from the Imperial Army. The soldiers are heavily armored and well-trained. With each step they take, their fine weapons glow with an earthy yellow light, a boost from the "Shield of the Earth" spell, which can dull ordinary swords with a single strike.

Every dozen or so steps, a black banner was held high, its embroidered runes burning with blue flames, illuminating the surrounding soldiers and inspiring them to charge faster, stronger, and more fearless.

Roland saw that some of the soldiers could throw out crimson fireballs with a wave of their hand, chant incantations to summon earth spikes, and some cavalrymen roared to the sky, summoning lightning that shrieked as it crashed down on their opponents.

The right side is red; the formation of the king's remaining troops has been broken, but many soldiers are still fighting to the death.

A dwarf soldier wielded a giant hammer, each strike accompanied by a sharp, booming sound, as it smashed into the knight, shattering the dark red runes and splattering pale brain matter.

Not far behind him was an archer who released his bowstring. A streak of light flashed past as the enchanted arrow left a deep blue trail, piercing through a black flag before exploding and destroying it.

Another old mage raised his staff, and waves of magic surged forth. A golden light exploded on the imperial battlefield, knocking down more than a dozen soldiers, but he himself coughed up blood and collapsed weakly to the ground.

The black and red torrents confronted each other, occasionally intersecting, and soldiers fell like scarecrows, never to rise again.

Roland watched all this, his mind blank for a moment.

He then withdrew.

It wasn't an escape; the slope behind him likely led to a battlefield for higher-level professionals, and he could faintly hear the violent roar echoing in the black smoke.

Instead, he saw a group of Imperial scouts in light armor rushing towards them. Their footsteps were extremely light, and their armor plates had a dark purple glow, probably the effect of "Shadow Enchantment".

They have already spotted Roland and are charging towards them.

For no particular reason, on the battlefield of the extraordinary, anyone who kills your own people is an enemy.

Coincidentally, Roland had just killed a low-ranking soldier of the Empire with his sword.

call out-

A dozen steps away, the lead scout had already raised his shortbow, and a dark purple streak of light arrived in front of Roland in an instant, the sound of it cutting through the air making his eardrums ache.

Roland heard this, turned around and drew his Blazing Pulse Javelin, deflecting the powerful arrow. Then he raised his arm and retaliated in the most direct way.

boom! ! !

Crimson runes rose up, and the javelin swept through the air, piercing the scout's chest before embedding itself in his companion behind him, pinning both men to the ground.

This is not enough.

The other two scouts had already flanked from the side, their daggers gleaming with a dark luster, a sign that they were poisoned.

when-

A metallic crackling sound rang out, and sparks landed on the back of Roland's hand, causing a brief burning pain, but he had no time to pay attention to it.

He twisted forward, the blade already sliding towards the opponent's neck during the parry, leaving a dazzling silver flash and spurting out scarlet blood.

Another scout lunged forward, his dagger sparking as it grazed the scales beneath the black robe. Roland didn't stop; he reversed his sword and thrust it diagonally through the ribs, piercing the beating heart.

Before he could even draw his longsword, the third scout arrived, his warhammer slamming down on his head with all his might, the spikes on the hammer still gleaming faintly.

boom! ! !

With a kick, Roland knocked the scout back, drew his longsword, and blood dripped from the tip, then splashed in the air with his movements.

kill.

The relentless killing.

Roland couldn't remember how many times he swung his sword, only that he killed twenty-three enemies.

When the last scout fell, his black robe was soaked with blood, and the black leather of his sword hilt was slippery.

Fortunately, they were just ordinary soldiers who had been enchanted and strengthened, otherwise they would have mostly been injured. Now, their strengthened bodies only feel slightly sore.

But this is just the beginning.

In the distance, officers within the Imperial army, seemingly having received word of the scout's death, were looking in this direction.

With a wave of his arm, dozens more soldiers broke off from the battlefield and surged up the hillside.

"Grass!"

Roland cursed inwardly at the sight, not even having time to loot the spoils. He drew his javelin and stepped over the pool of blood, heading to the right.

There was no need to hesitate. On the battlefield, even if his strength was second only to that of a professional, he could not possibly fight against dozens of heavily armored soldiers.

Moreover, he had already seen a spellcaster in the group, whose fingertips were pointing in this direction and had begun to release a blood-red light.

boom! ! !

The light transformed into a streak of light that swept past Roland's shoulder, and the stone to Roland's right flank shattered into a pile of dust.

Without bothering to look back at what the next spell was, he ran wildly to the right along the hillside, nearly tripping over the scattered corpses and pebbles several times.

As his breathing became erratic, the noisy footsteps behind him gradually faded away, and Roland successfully shook off the heavily armored soldiers and arrived at a pass.

But before he could catch his breath, another unexpected event occurred ahead!

boom!!!

A violent explosion came from ahead, and the shockwave carrying debris and bloody remains nearly knocked Roland to the ground. Scorching flames shot into the sky, and the aftershocks of energy trembled in the air.

He looked up.

There was a large crater in the ground, inside which was a shattered staff. Around it were a dozen or so kingdom soldiers dressed in red robes, groaning and clutching their wounds.

Limbs and torsos were scattered all over the ground, and the stench of blood was so strong that it made people want to vomit. The residual heat of the explosion had not yet dissipated, and the acrid smell of roasting flesh filled the air.

A soldier had already spotted his arrival.

"Imperial Dog!!!"

The soldier, who had lost a leg in the explosion, had eyes so red they looked like they were about to bleed. He threw a dagger from afar, but the soldier blocked it with the edge of his sword.

But as soon as he shouted, the remaining soldiers at the edge also noticed the situation and turned around in unison, brandishing their weapons and rushing over.

Roland glanced at the patterns on their armor and instantly felt a chill run down his spine.

"Bloodthorn Guard, damn it—"

He wiped the blood off the sword, held it across his chest, and felt that his luck was absolutely terrible, with wave after wave of enemies coming.

Could it be that I crawled under the skirt of the goddess of misfortune in my dream?