Cunning as a fox, bloodthirsty as a hungry wolf!

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Either rush through the pass or accept death. The stimulation of blood and the echo of the horn of the charge echoed loudly, and the slave regiment fell into complete madness.

"Spartan Slave Regiment Combat Morale, -500 points. There is no way back, and the rage is worth 100 points. ”

The reality outside of this set of data is:

The slave corps, as well as the berserkers, formed a terrible torrent of death, shouting, hustle, and **, stepping on the corpses of their companions and running forward. Like a herd of life-threatening beasts.

The people who were about to be drowned by the crowd rubbed against each other spasmodically, hugging the narrow pass in front of them, and then under the slashing of the Green Bear Warriors, one by one they were planted like wooden pillars.

They cried for their lives, begging for their lives, but they fell into a rage, and then sank in the midst of the cold flowing iron, and were crushed into a field of blood-stained minced flesh.

"War is a feast of death, but also a carnival of human flesh and blood."

It was only at this moment that Aaron grasped the profundity of this sentence, and he forced himself to face the bloodshed of war until he became familiar with the colors. Eventually, it faded away without a trace, and his face turned pale.

Aaron had the impression that Spartans were young men in their twenties, who had been raised to be ruthless people, and all they had in common was completely bloodthirsty.

The Spartans encouraged young people to cultivate a cunning surname - Aaron's way of treating Describing Nine was a manifestation of the cunning of the Spartan king.

In a sense, it's a kind of self-knowledge, "cunning like a fox, bloodthirsty like a hungry wolf." ”

Aaron will not forget the advice from the Spartan elders on the training ground not long ago, "He who is afraid of cold-blooded killing, he cannot lead his people." So, my king, if you want to take control of the king of Sparta, you must cut his throat. ”

When Aaron stabbed a dagger into the throat of innocent freedmen, it wasn't just a Spartan exercise.

It's almost the beginning of a ritual. When he felt the blade in his hand, piercing deeply, he gained a sense of self-knowledge: "The scepter of the king of Sparta can only be grasped by a bloody palm." It was a matter of course to oppress and kill the freemen and slaves. Humiliation is pride, restraint is opportunity. Discipline is freedom, and obedience is domination. The king of Sparta had to go further and realize that he was cold-blooded and cruel because ...... This is Sparta. ”

……

On the cusp of a crazy collision.

The Nine-Pigtailed Berserker fell into the madness of Chestemi, and the surface of his body was surrounded by dense and prominent veins, falling into the berserker's frenzied state. Seeing his fiancée Shakuu swept away by the torrent of madness, along with her attendants and her warriors, Farrow roared loudly and angrily, his eyes filled with tears. A sharp iron object had been stabbed into his abdomen, causing blood to pour from his throat.

The nine-braid berserker Faro, who had warned him not to approach this terrifying and mysterious tribe. That kind of warrior instinct, Farrow never missed.

But now I think it's all in vain. With his right hand clutching a hideous head, he threw it forward, holding back the blood spilling from his throat, telling himself that he couldn't die before he could save Shiku.

……

"The God of Life of the Old Gods is above, please forgive me for my bloody sins!"

"The new god of war, Ares, is above, for glory, for Sparta. Give me - immovable as a mountain, as strong as a rock! ”

Kulush's belief in the Old Gods in the past was not enough for him to fulfill his duties as a general.

The value of the slave corps is probably at this moment. When his head heats up, everything rises and flickers before his eyes. Guiding the slave corps to storm the pass, all they saw was blood and splattered limbs.

But no matter how tired he was, Kurushh didn't seem to see the bears as humans. Because his killing is like painting with blood, he doesn't care whether it is an enemy or a slave who is close to him.

The twin swords shuddered in Kurush's hands and slashed into the shoulder blades of a bear man. The color of the blood blurred in front of his eyes, and another sword slashed horizontally, the pleasure of a severed limb clutching his heart. In the terrifying slaughter battlefield, he must exert all his strength, shouting "Shock to live, retreat or die!" "Chop to death the slaves around you who have lost their minds, so that they don't lose their heads as easily as others because of crowding and trampling.

Kurush's general mission is to break through the canyon pass ahead, or fill it with corpses.

……

In the canyon terrain, the Spartan phalanx, once operational, was like a steel beast, chasing after its prey.

The Spartan heavy helmeted burly body and uniform killing made everything around him seem so small and vulnerable.

The wound was in his mind**, and hot blood poured into his mouth, and the shadows of both the slave corps and the berserkers became more and more blurry in Aaron's vision.

The huge steel beast, every roar, every crush, almost changed the color of heaven and earth.

"Sparta!"

With Kratos' far-reaching roar, the earth trembled like a drum skin under his feet with every step forward of the Spartan phalanx.

It was as if the whole world began to throb because of this violation.

Spear, forward stab without hesitation!

Bodies and heads were all crushed under the crushing of the phalanx.

In the face of this majestic force, there is no "obstacle" at all.

Even a canyon with rugged terrain can still go straight like a plain.

"If today, destined to go crazy for Sparta, why not give up everything that has nothing to do with killing!"

The red cloak dragged the floor from his shoulders, and Aaron, who was more than one meter eight tall and armed with a spear, joined the last row of the phalanx.

"Enemy morale 200, 180, 160, 140, 120 ......"

The data in the horizon is constantly declining, and the pass of the Cave Open Bear Clan is in front of you.

Although under Aaron's spear, there were all dying people, covered in blood and sparsely wounded. But he still shouted Spartan slogans, pierced throat after throat, and under that heavy armor was a head that never bowed.

He kicked the corpses at his feet, and anyone who showed the slightest sign of life showed no mercy. Blood splattered, and life was felt passing by the touch of his palm, and Aaron gradually became numb. Blood was all over the ground, staining his ankles red. In Aaron's vision, the distance between the first row of the Spartan phalanx, fighting side by side with Kratos, does not seem to be far away.

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The data for recommendation votes and new books is very weak. To be honest, the theme of all-out war is difficult to grasp, and it is a relatively difficult type of online article to write.

I ask you for fire support, as long as the number of votes is enough, two to three watches a day is not a problem.

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