Chapter 614: Chapter 614: The Last Aether Winged Cavalry
Chapter 614: The Last Aether Winged Cavalry
But what responded to Leoni was the roar of steel beasts, the trembling of the wasteland, and the flames and smoke unleashed from tank barrels.
"Boom!"
With a deafening blast, a direct shell landed in front of Leoni and exploded abruptly.
In an instant, blinding fire filled his vision, the violent explosion erupted, fierce shockwaves tore through the air, and shattered shrapnel flew in all directions.
Thanks to the auto-activated magical shield on his armor, Leoni withstood the blast, but the other Winged Cavalry weren’t so lucky.
Some lost limbs, others were charred corpses, some blown to pieces—and all Leoni could do was watch it happen, powerless.
Leoni gripped his saber, growling under his breath: "We are Fadlan...
In his memory, the old Fadlan Empire was so strong and glorious. They’d seized other races’ lands at will, hunted mighty dragons as prey, and considered themselves born conquerors of the world.
—And the Aether Winged Cavalry were a proud part of that, one of Holy Fadlan’s legions.
But now?
The Sun God’s radiance grew ever dimmer, their power faded, the three great kingdoms were at endless war, and now even a despicable northern nation hunted them as prey.
Worse still—he’d nearly lost his Fadlan pride, overwhelmed by the might of these steel monsters.
To Leoni, this was an unforgivable mistake!
He was Fadlan! From the mightiest empire in all Fianso, faithful to the undying Sun, loyal to the immortal emperor!
They should never fear, never yield, always follow the sun’s light!
"Huff, huff..."
Explosions sounded without pause, memories blurred, Leoni’s eyes reddened, breath came faster, and he raised his saber high, veins bulging on his hands.
"We are noble Fadlan! We will never bow to any base barbarians!
Aether Winged Cavalry—charge with me!"
At this moment, not even gunfire or engines could drown out his hoarse cry.
Leoni spurred his white horse, body low, metal wings spreading behind him, the wind screaming through the gaps with a piercing shriek.
The magic patterns on the wings shimmered, sunlight-like radiance glowing, lifting him from the ground as his steed galloped, its hooves hovering several feet above the earth.
Now, Leoni was like a true godborn, trailing light as he launched a furious airborne charge—this was the real Winged Cavalry!
Swinging his saber, Leoni shouted: "Holy Fadlan forever! Offer your heart to Fadlan!"
The surviving hundreds of cavalry focused on Leoni, deftly dodging shellfire, rallying at his side.
"That’s Lord Leoni!"
"We are the Aether Winged Cavalry!"
"By Amanata, Holy Fadlan forever!"
Amidst the chaos, the shouts of the Winged Cavalry rang out, full of vigor.
Now, life or death no longer mattered. The frenzied cavalry just wanted one more glorious charge, to die like true warriors on the battlefield, giving everything for the Fadlan they worshipped in their hearts.
"Long live Fadlan!"
The Winged Cavalry formed two dense lines, knees almost touching, their horsemanship so skilled they could charge in tight formation, lances ensuring they’d strike first.
The magical runes on their armor resonated, merging into a solid, rapidly advancing barrier ahead of the cavalry line.
"Whoosh—"
The wings behind screamed, unleashing powerful thrusts, giving the cavalry greater speed and strength.
Hooves thundered in unison, the cavalry silent—even when comrades fell to explosions, they instantly closed ranks.
Now only a hundred meters separated them from the iron beasts, rolling smoke blinding their eyes.
"For Holy Fadlan!"
With all their courage, the cavalry roared.
Their wings spread wide, emitting a chilling shriek, hooves drumming the earth in a frantic rhythm.
Such force, such speed, could devastate any foe—human, orc, or giant.
It was this charge that once made the Aether Cavalry invincible across the continent.
But sadly, their enemy now was not of flesh and blood, but steel beasts—the Empire’s most advanced weapons: tanks.
The roars of the tanks, the whistle of shells, the engines’ thunder drowned out all other sounds—even the land itself seemed to wail.
The Winged Cavalry heard nothing but a deafening buzz, not even the wind.
Leoni gripped his saber tighter, heart pounding, breath ragged.
For a moment, he was back thirty years ago, young and wild, in another charge like this—when they slaughtered the last orcs of Aether like pigs.
Would it be the same now?
We will win, we must win—we are Fadlan, Leoni kept repeating to himself.
One hundred meters.
Leoni lifted his saber, eyes blazing, letting out a thunderous war cry.
Fifty meters.
But through the smoke, those mountainous black shadows grew larger, bursting from the haze into view.
In that instant, the Ember Empire’s steel flood and the Aether Cavalry’s legendary charge collided, like a tsunami hitting land.
"Boom—"
A powerful shockwave struck—the cavalry thrust their lances at the beasts, aiming for a fatal blow.
Even a full-force charge could barely pierce the thick armor—nowhere near enough to reach the tanks’ core.
Lances snapped, fragments flying, and the cavalry were swept under the treads, screams cut short as horse and rider were crushed to pulp.
Wings, fine armor, powerful bodies—all meant nothing before the iron tide.
The once-invincible Winged Cavalry were as fragile as glass dolls, shattered at a touch.
"No—!"
Leoni’s face twisted in rage and anguish.
He watched, powerless, as the Winged Cavalry—the very image of his Fadlan dream—were ground beneath the steel flood, feeling his own heart crushed as well, broken and full of despair.
His vision of the eternal holy city trembled, on the brink of ruin.
Leoni screamed like a madman: "Fadlan will not lose—"
Like a knight charging a windmill, he hurled himself at the steel monster with every ounce of strength.
"Never!"
"Slash—"
Golden saber light soared skyward, fierce winds tearing at the ground, space itself seeming to split.
With a superhuman blow, Leoni sliced through the tank’s armor—the hull split cleanly in two, a massive gash left open!
The cut was smooth, exposing the hidden Dragonblood gnome pilot.
"Damn human!"
The gnome shrieked, cowering in the corner, one hand clutching the controls, the other grabbing a pistol and firing wildly at Leoni.
At the sight of the gnome, Leoni was overwhelmed with fury—like a volcano erupting.
Gnome! The very ones his cavalry had always scorned—now they’d crushed his army and hope.
It was pure humiliation—a disgrace to Fadlan!
The gnome fired wildly, screaming, "Die, cowardly southerner! Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
But the Winged Cavalryman did not fall—instead, he charged through the bullets, slashing the arrogant gnome in two.
Leoni leapt onto the tank wreckage, raising his saber high: "Warriors! These things aren’t invincible—they’re just iron shells!"
But looking around, he saw only smoke, scattered armor, crushed corpses, blood, and deep tank tracks.
Now, no one was left to heed Leoni’s call.
Some cavalry escaped through the tanks’ gaps, but with their will broken, they simply fled in numb silence.
Leoni cried: "Have you forgotten our former glory? We are Fadlan—"
"Boom!"
A fierce explosion nearly blasted him away, wrecking the tank even further.
Leoni looked up—wyverns soared overhead, bombs whistling down, scouring the last Winged Cavalry and tearing the land to shreds.
"Come! Kill me! Decades ago, you’d have fallen before me!"
Distant steam tanks swung about, encircling the cavalry like wolves hunting prey.
A dozen tank barrels aimed at Leoni, flames spitting from their black maws.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
A barrage of explosions nearly flipped the earth, sand and stone blasting sky-high.
Leoni darted through the smoke on horseback, dodging each blast with supreme skill.
But soon, his steed gave a last, weak whinny, collapsing to the ground—its coat dirty, wounded, nearly bled out.
His companion of decades, dead in an instant.
But Leoni had no time to grieve—saber in hand, he leapt from the saddle, charging alone at the tanks.
The next instant, shells exploded where he’d just been—his horse’s body blasted apart, chunks flying.
"Kill him!"
"This human is strong! He destroyed a tank—watch out!"
Tank crews spoke over comms, the tanks spreading out to surround Leoni in a great semicircle.
Machine gun turrets atop the tanks zeroed in on Leoni, muzzles spitting flame.
"Rat-tat-tat—"
A hail of bullets swept over him, denting his armor.
Yet Leoni charged on, heedless of death, nearly mad with fury.
"Focus fire!"
"He’s alone! Don’t save your ammo!"
The tanks’ fire grew even fiercer, wyverns swooping low, shells flattening the earth around him.
Blast after blast battered his armor, his body blackened and riddled with shrapnel and bullets.
But he pressed on, stumbling, dodging countless deadly shots.
At last, he staggered within forty meters of the tanks, lifting his saber with trembling arms, unable to charge further, bullets riddling his broken body.
"Clack—"
Gears whined as a turret swung to target him.
Leoni looked up, despair in his eyes—as a count, he finally saw a harsh truth.
—The Holy Fadlan Empire he’d sworn to had long since fallen.
And on the Ember Empire’s tanks, Leoni saw the pride, confidence, and dominance that once belonged only to Fadlan.
"The old king is dead..."
His lips moved, wanting to say more, but a dazzling flash claimed his sight.
"Boom!"
Another earth-shaking blast—the ground trembled, dust blasted skyward.
The last Aether Winged Cavalry of Fadlan died thus, and this unit faded into the dust of history.
In the year 1789 of the New Calendar, on July 11th, the Ember Empire declared war on North Aether with barely any warning, launching a furious assault.
According to their declaration, North Aether had committed the grave crime of "insulting the Ember Emperor."
With four armored divisions, three light armored divisions, and two air divisions as their spearhead, the Ember Empire tore through the Duke’s hasty 80,000-strong line on the plains.
The defenders had no time to prepare, not even receiving the declaration of war before the iron tide overwhelmed them.
The Empire’s armored, air, and magic divisions pushed forward with unstoppable speed, rapidly encircling and tearing apart the aging armies of old Fadlan.
Over a million players surged out like locusts, hunting any enemy in sight, their presence scattered across the plains.
These disasters left Duke Walter’s remaining troops huddling in cities, trembling as they waited for outside help.
In those cities, countless people gazed up at the sun, praying silently to Amanata, their only hope—once the "Wing of Fadlan"—Walter Greenham.
