All tactics changers.

...

Alfonso Peredel, that is his real name. People have many legends about him, and there are many titles and nicknames about him, more than one. But most of them can be named as one of the four major guardians in the north, or the name of the Crow Feather.

But he himself prefers the simple and unpretentious title. The guardian is like the guardian of the ancient prophecy, guarding the storm and darkness, waiting for the day when the moment of the judgment of the end of the day.

And the end of the legend seems to be today.

But the winter in the northern border seemed to be particularly cold during this day, which made Alfonso Peredel feel a little lonely.

In his fortress, watching the Saints of the Sage who launched an attack on the entire northern defense line like waves in the vast snow, Alfonso Peredel felt shaken for the first time.

To be precise, it was not wavering, but fear. He really felt a sense of crisis. The entire defense line was loosening, and behind the loosening was the collapse. He deeply understood that most of the military forces on this defense line were not the fearless Crow Knights under his command.

But even his knights were gradually exhausted on this meat grinder-like battlefield - where did these Saint Selected people emerge? They were like a pile of sand on weekdays, but what kind of power made them change like this at this moment.

The torrent that gathered together almost subverted all his understanding of the past, but the real crisis came from the messengers who kept entering and leaving the inner gate of the fortress and brought bad news on the battlefield.

"The defense line in Lulin direction is lost..."

"Fort Penelo falls..."

"The Selected Ones captured the Mossy Bridge..."

Alfonso Peredel forced himself to calm down and patrol the back of one reduced stronghold on the sand table, how many troops and defense lines they still have to be available.

But the answer was almost ruthless, and there was no joke on the battlefield. He rubbed his forehead and did not speak. He just put his hands on his heart and asked the answer deep in his heart over and over again.

But this time, the masters did not respond.

Alfonso Peredel almost subconsciously raised his head, and above the gloomy clouds above Elpashin, there seemed to be lightning and thunder flashing - but Elpashin's winter day did not have the memory of thunder.

He knows what that is.

The morning light was driving away the clouds, and there, under the gaze of people, the two fleets were completely strangled together. Only by tilting their heads, people could see the thin fleet, which was now like a moth to a flame, and was unyieldingly on the battlefield of artillery fire.

An unprecedented decisive battle is taking place over Elpahin, and a vortex has been formed. The previous decision has led to the result at this moment. No one side can escape from this huge battle until either side wins.

Anyone can see the precarious situation of the Saint Selected Party. It only takes a little time for the balance of victory to tilt towards the terrifying shadow above the battlefield, and no change will occur.

But the dawn of victory seemed so far away to Alfonso Peredel.

He could not believe that the masters would make mistakes.

"Sir," the messenger said to him stammeringly: "Do we still have support..."

Alfonso Peredel turned around and looked at the other party with a cold look, but could not answer this question. The defense line was collapsing. Whether they could wait until the moment of victory came seemed to be an eternal unknown.

"Behind us..."

The messenger replied in an almost suffocating voice:

"It's Elpaxin..."
Chapter completed!