In the previous chapter, the allied forces had gathered in the heart of the Glorious Continent, bracing for a conflict that seemed inevitable. Meanwhile, the atmosphere within the Blackrock Alliance's camp was charged with fervour and tension. On a raised platform, Karl stood tall, clad in a suit of black armour that gleamed ominously under the pale light. His piercing gaze was fixed on the direction of the allied forces' encampment, radiating an unyielding determination and an almost fanatical fighting spirit.
"Comrades!" Karl's commanding voice boomed across the camp, carrying strength and authority. "We have learned that the so-called allied forces are amassing in the central plains, foolishly attempting to block the advance of our Blackrock Alliance. Hah! Do they think such a feeble display will deter us? They are sorely mistaken! They are nothing but a disorganised rabble! From the day our alliance was born, we vowed to break the decaying, corrupt order and forge a new glory in its place. Today marks the perfect opportunity for us to etch our name into the annals of history! Glory shall belong to us!"
"For the Blackrock Alliance! For glory!" The resounding cries of the alliance's soldiers erupted like a tidal wave, their weapons raised high, glinting sharply under the sun. The roar of their unified voices reverberated across the camp, shaking the very ground.
Soon, Karl led the Blackrock Alliance's main forces, charging towards the allied camp like a ferocious storm. Their attack was swift and relentless, crashing against the allied lines with an intensity that shook even the most seasoned warriors.
"Forward! Let them tremble before our might!" The Blackrock soldiers, fearless and relentless, charged forward like tigers unleashed upon an unsuspecting herd. Their voices echoed across the battlefield: "Blackrock Eternal!" It was a battle cry that carried their indomitable will, as if they had cast aside any thought of life or death.
Meanwhile, the alliance's mages unleashed their fury. Positioned at the rear of the formation, they chanted incantations with precision and discipline. In an instant, waves of dark magic, as deadly as a storm of arrows, rained down on the allied lines. The battlefield was illuminated by the flickering glow of destructive spells, accompanied by the deafening roar of explosions. The allied frontlines began to falter under the overwhelming assault, their defences crumbling under the sheer force of the attack.
"Hold the line! Do not let them break through!" an allied commander shouted, his voice hoarse as he brandished his sword. He rallied his troops with desperation, hoping to stem the tide of chaos.
But the situation was dire. Casualties mounted under the relentless bombardment, and the once-sturdy defence showed signs of collapse.
Standing atop the command tower, Solomon watched the battlefield with a calm yet calculating gaze. His sharp eyes scanned the unfolding chaos, quickly assessing the ebb and flow of the battle.
"This cannot go on. We must adjust our strategy immediately if we are to turn the tide!" Solomon thought to himself. Without hesitation, he issued a series of precise commands:
"Warriors! Form a defensive phalanx immediately! Spearmen, take the front and angle your spears forward! Shield-bearers, protect the flanks and form an impenetrable wall! Mages, hold your spells for a coordinated counterattack. Await my signal!"
The allied soldiers, disciplined and well-trained, moved swiftly to execute Solomon's orders. Their movements were methodical, forming a nearly impenetrable phalanx. The spearmen braced their weapons in unison, creating a forest of iron-tipped spears, while the shield-bearers locked their defences into a seamless barrier of steel. It was a formation that radiated resilience and order amidst the chaos.
At the same time, Solomon assembled an elite strike force, ready to launch a flanking manoeuvre.
"Listen closely!" he addressed the handpicked warriors in a low, resolute voice. "This mission is critical. Success or failure hinges on our actions today. Follow me—we will strike where they least expect it and remind them that the allied forces are no easy prey!" His eyes gleamed with unwavering confidence.
Under the cover of the terrain, Solomon's elite team moved like shadows, stealthily advancing towards the rear of the Blackrock Alliance. Unbeknownst to Karl's forces, danger crept ever closer.
When Solomon's strike team emerged like spectres behind enemy lines, chaos erupted within the Blackrock Alliance's rear ranks.
"Ambush! We're under attack!" A panicked cry rang out as the Blackrock soldiers scrambled to react.
Leading the charge, Solomon wielded his Stellar Blade, its radiant light cutting through the darkness of the battlefield. Like a divine warrior descended from the heavens, he carved through the enemy lines with precision and ferocity. Each swing of his blade brought down foes with devastating force, his movements a masterclass of skill and power.
"Charge!" Solomon's thunderous voice rallied his team as they plunged into the disarrayed enemy ranks.
The elite team fought with unmatched prowess, cutting a swathe through the enemy's rear guard. The clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of battle filled the air, creating a cacophony that echoed across the battlefield.
Yet, the chaos at the rear did not go unnoticed for long. In the Blackrock Alliance's central command, Karl's brow furrowed deeply as he sensed something amiss.
"The rear lines are in disorder. Could this be a trap laid by the allied forces?" Karl mused, his instincts warning him of the danger. Without hesitation, he prepared to dispatch reinforcements to stabilise the situation.
But time was of the essence. Could Solomon's strike team dismantle the Blackrock Alliance's rear forces before Karl's reinforcements arrived? Would the allied forces seize this opportunity to mount a decisive counterattack? The fate of the battle—and perhaps the future of the Glorious Continent—hung in the balance, shrouded in uncertainty.