As the day was drawing to a close, the setting sun resembled a precarious fireball, casting its last rays with great effort over the vast battlefield. The blood-red afterglow, as if dyed by this cruel war, had tinted the horizon a shocking shade of red, as if the earth were silently recounting its pain and despair.
The bugle of the Crusades had been wailing shrilly for nearly three months. On the land of Europe, bloody wars had become so commonplace that they could no longer stir the emotions within people's hearts. The religious fervor was like a fierce and unstoppable storm, sweeping in with irresistible force and ruthlessly binding everyone's beliefs and thoughts together. Whether they were knights clad in magnificent armor, looking imposing and majestic, or ordinary warriors with simple weapons in hand and resolute expressions on their faces, without exception, they all wore the sacred cross on their chests, muttering incantations with fanatical and pious looks, vowing to fight for God's will, willing to sacrifice their lives until the very last moment.
However, by this time, most of the people on the battlefield had actually lost themselves in this cruel war long ago. They didn't really care for whom they were fighting. Their eyes were empty and numb, like dying embers, merely mechanically staring at the enemies in front, devoid of any vitality. The swords and knives in their hands had become their only reliance in this world full of fear and despair, the instinctive tools for their survival. On this battlefield soaked with blood and shrouded in death, as if by some invisible hand, the fates of everyone were tightly intertwined. They were about to embark on their respective journeys full of uncertainties and variables on this bloody land, heading towards a future that might have been predestined or filled with infinite possibilities.
Leo Alsta, a man from the distant north, was clad in pitch-black iron armor that seemed to have absorbed all the darkness in the world, exuding a cold and oppressive aura. He rode a tall and powerful warhorse. The horse had a vigorous build, with its muscles taut, constantly pawing the ground on the battlefield and neighing from time to time, as if it too had been tainted with the innate murderous intent of its master.
In Leo's eyes, there was an ancient and profound icy chill, like that of a lone wolf from the depths of the ancient ice field, cold and sharp, making people shudder with fear. He was a descendant of the Vikings. What flowed in his veins was not only the Vikings' fearless and adventurous spirit of daring to roam the four seas but also a persistent and fanatical obsession with revenge.
Leo's appearance was not the kind that would immediately strike people as strikingly handsome. The lines of his face were tough, as if carved by years of hardship and suffering, engraved with vicissitudes and determination. He was tall and muscular, emanating a powerful presence that couldn't be ignored. There was a unique temperament about him, an inborn hunter's aura, as if he had been born to fight and kill. He was always quietly observing everything around him, discerning every move and intention of his enemies, and then looking down on all his prey with an aloof attitude, as if everything in the world was under his control.
His swordsmanship was truly superb, reaching a state of consummate perfection. Every strike seemed to be carefully calculated, precise to the extreme, without any frills, yet fierce and swift, fully demonstrating the coldness and determination of killing. The sword in his hand seemed no longer an ordinary weapon but a part of his body, an extension of his will for revenge.
Since childhood, Leo had encountered a tragic disaster. He witnessed with his own eyes the brutal massacre of his family by the knights of the Church. It was a dark and terrifying night. Flames soared into the sky, and the sounds of shouting and wailing intertwined, echoing in his ears for a long time. His relatives fell one by one under the swords of the Church knights, and blood dyed the earth red. On his deathbed, his father grasped his hand tightly, his eyes filled with hatred and reluctance, and with his last ounce of strength, he made Leo swear to take revenge. That oath was like an extremely heavy hammer, hitting Leo's heart hard, making it engraved in his memory forever and setting the flames of revenge ablaze in his heart, never to be extinguished.
Since then, revenge had become the only belief in Leo's life, the only driving force that supported him in trudging through this cruel world. In his world, family affection and friendship had long become distant memories. Those emotions that had once warmed him had vanished with the destruction of his family. His belief in God had also completely collapsed and disappeared without a trace at the moment when his family suffered a catastrophe. In his opinion, if God really existed, how could He just watch his family being massacred so brutally?
For him, every war and every battle were just important chips on his path of revenge for his family. He was willing to pay any price, even sacrifice his own life, just to make those who had once hurt his family receive the punishment they deserved, to make them pay with blood.
"Leo, the enemy troops are approaching rapidly ahead," a deputy beside him whispered cautiously, his voice carrying a trace of trembling that was hard to conceal. On this cruel battlefield, life and death could change in an instant. Even the deputy, who was a seasoned veteran, couldn't help but feel a bit of fear in his heart when facing the upcoming fierce battle.
Leo nodded slowly, his face calm without a ripple. A cold glint suddenly flashed in his icy eyes, like a meteor streaking across the night sky, brief yet deadly. Then, unhurriedly, he reached out and took down the heavy broadsword from the saddle. In the afterglow of the setting sun, the broadsword glinted with a cold and piercing light, as if telling the endless hatred and pain in its master's heart.
"Let's begin," he said coldly. In fact, he was talking to his warhorse. His voice was low and hoarse, like an undercurrent surging deep underground, carrying a menacing deterrence.
Leo spurred his horse and charged into the enemy formation like a black bolt of lightning. His swordsmanship was fierce and straightforward, without any frills, yet each strike contained tremendous power. Every time he swung his sword, the sharp sword qi seemed capable of tearing through the air, emitting a shrill whistling sound, like the howl of a demon. Before the enemies could react, the sharp blade had already mercilessly pierced through their chests. Blood gushed out like a fountain, staining Leo's armor red and also dyeing the war-torn land red.
In the middle of the enemy formation, Leo was like a god of war possessing him, charging left and right, unstoppable. His figure appeared and disappeared among the chaotic crowd, and every appearance was accompanied by a rain of blood. His movements were agile and decisive, every attack was just right, and every defense was impenetrable. Although the battle was raging furiously, with the shouts of battle and the clashing of weapons deafening, Leo's heart was as firm as ice, unmoved by the war fever. His gaze was always fixed firmly on the distance, as if in that faraway place, there was a solemn vow constantly calling him and guiding his direction. In his heart, this battle was not for glory, nor for the so-called God, but to avenge the blood debt of the past and to let the family's souls rest in peace.
On the other side of the battlefield, William Edmund was solemnly commanding his family's knight corps, launching a fierce and brutal charge against the Muslim cavalry. The battlefield was filled with smoke, and the shouts of battle shook the sky. The sounds of horses' hooves and the clashing of weapons intertwined, like a symphony full of the scent of death.
William was about twenty-six years old. He had a tall and slender figure, a handsome face, and every gesture of his exuded an inborn noble temperament. He was clad in magnificent armor inlaid with exquisite gems that sparkled dazzlingly in the sunlight, demonstrating his noble status. He held a magnificent knight's long sword in his hand. The sword had a long and sharp blade, and the hilt was carved with beautiful patterns, which was a symbol of family honor.
William's temperament was noble and elegant, and his eyes sparkled with the wisdom and depth typical of the nobility. Since childhood, he had received a good education, was proficient in various etiquettes and knowledge, and was the much-anticipated heir of his family. However, on this land set ablaze by war, his heart felt increasingly heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible boulder, making it hard for him to breathe.
William didn't actually like this war. In the long and profound inheritance of the noble family, his responsibility seemed to have been predetermined from the moment he was born. As the heir of the family, he shouldered a heavy mission. He had to fight for the family's honor, maintain the family's dignity and status. However, deep in his heart, he was tired of and helpless about this life that was arranged so clearly. He yearned for freedom, longed to pursue the life he truly wanted, and to chase after those emotions and dreams that his family regarded as insignificant.
Once, at a grand and luxurious ball, William encountered a beautiful noble lady. The lady was dressed in a gorgeous dress, like a delicate rose blooming in a flower bed, attracting everyone's attention. Her skin was as white as snow, her eyes were bright and lively, and when she smiled, she revealed a row of neat and white teeth, making people feel as if bathed in a spring breeze. During the ball, after a few casual conversations between them, the noble lady fell in love with William at first sight. Her eyes were full of admiration and expectation for William. However, William wasn't moved by it. His heart had long been occupied by a gentle and kind nun.
That nun was named Marianne. She was like a mysterious elf, often appearing in William's dreams and in countless lonely nights of his. There wasn't a trace of worldly vulgarity in her eyes, which were as pure as the clear spring in the mountains, or like a deity descending from the sky, making people dare not look directly at her. Her smile was warm and kind, as if it could dispel all the gloom in William's heart. Whenever William thought of her, a warm and peaceful feeling would well up in his heart.
However, this relationship was full of taboos and challenges. In the eyes of William's family, the status of a nun was so humble that she could never marry into a noble family. They believed that the family's interests were above all else, and marriage must serve the development and honor of the family. Moreover, his father was even more eager to arrange a marriage between him and another noble lady within the family, trying to stabilize the relationship between the family and the Church through this way. In their view, this was an important step for the family to continue its glory, and there could be no mistakes.
William's heart was full of contradictions and struggles. On the one hand, he knew very well that as the heir of the family, he shouldered a major responsibility, had to obey the family's arrangements, and think about the family's interests. On the other hand, he couldn't bear to part with his feelings for Marianne. He longed to be with her and pursue their happiness together. He was tired of the hypocritical socializing and power struggles in the family and yearned to escape from all of this and live a simple and genuine life.
"Father, I don't want to marry her," William whispered to himself countless times. This call carried his helplessness and reluctance towards fate. His eyes sometimes showed a determined light, and sometimes were full of confusion and pain. In the face of this cruel reality, he was like a lamb lost in the dark, not knowing where to go. He tried to find a balance, a way that he could neither go against the family's wishes nor give up his love, but he found that it was almost impossible to achieve.
Matthew Colvin, about twenty years old, was originally just an unknown little mercenary. He came from a poor family, and his early life was hard and difficult, with hardly any good memories worth recalling. In the world where the strong preyed on the weak, he had to run around everywhere to make a living, living a precarious life. Since childhood, he had tasted the hardships of life to the full, endured the cold looks and bullying of others, but these experiences also made him strong and brave.
However, fate was always full of countless accidents and surprises. One accidental adventure completely changed his life trajectory and endowed him with extraordinary power.
It was a sunny day. Matthew, along with several comrades who had gone through thick and thin with him on a daily basis, stepped into an ancient and mysterious forest. According to legend, deep in this forest, there was a long-lost treasure hidden. Countless people yearned for it, yet countless others had lost their way in this forest and never walked out again. Matthew and his comrades, with a longing for wealth and curiosity about the unknown, resolutely decided to venture into this dangerous forest.
They moved forward cautiously in the forest. The surrounding atmosphere was so quiet that it was oppressive. The occasional chirping of birds also seemed to carry a strange aura. As they gradually went deeper into the forest, the surrounding scenery became more and more unfamiliar, and they began to lose their way. Just then, a group of fierce wolves suddenly rushed out from all directions and surrounded them.
Those wolves were huge in size, with fierce eyes, baring their sharp fangs with their mouths wide open, making people shudder. Although Matthew and his comrades were mercenaries who had experienced some storms, facing such fierce wolves, they also felt deep fear. They fought back vigorously, waving the weapons in their hands continuously, trying to drive back the wolves. However, there were too many wolves, and they gradually fell into a difficult situation, and all of them were injured to varying degrees.
Just when they felt desperate and thought they were going to die here, a mysterious nun suddenly appeared in front of them. The nun was dressed in a pure white robe, like a blooming lily, pure and beautiful. She had a delicate face, and her eyes revealed an otherworldly temperament, as if she came from another world. She was waving a staff in her hand, and the staff was flashing with strange lights, emitting a powerful and mysterious force.
The nun muttered something under her breath and then suddenly waved the staff. A powerful magical force instantly gushed out from the staff, like a surging tide, rushing towards the group of wolves. The wolves seemed to sense the power of this force, and they were so frightened that they backed away one after another, howling in pain. Soon, they were repelled by this force and disappeared into the depths of the forest.
Matthew stared at the mysterious nun in front of him with wide eyes, his heart full of shock and gratitude. He had never seen such powerful force before, nor had he ever seen such a beautiful and otherworldly woman. At that moment, his heart beat faster, and a strange feeling well up in his heart. He knew that his fate had been tightly linked to this mysterious nun at this moment.
However, Matthew didn't know that behind this nun was a huge secret. She was not an ordinary nun but an important member of a mysterious sect, possessing powerful forces inherited from ancient magic. And this mysterious sect had been secretly guarding a secret that concerned the fate of the entire world. Matthew's appearance might not have been accidental but was arranged by fate. His fate had already begun to undergo earth-shaking changes on this land full of wars and disputes. And in the days to come, he would, together with Leo and William, face the upcoming huge challenges and crises. Their threads of fate would be tightly intertwined, jointly composing a magnificent and legendary story.