Not surprisingly, the Ashhearth Knights and the Ashhearth Poorers met in the final game of the God of War Tournament.

The setting sun shone on the spire of the fourth floor of the Ashhearth Castle, as if a golden spear had pierced only into the night sky like the Ashhearth Valley. Huge torches lit up around the arena. The heat gradually dissipated, and the sea breeze blowing from the endless ocean carried the salty smell of seawater.

The girls who participated in the Flower of the Ashhearth are making their final preparations, and after the God of War Contest is over, they will have one last chance to perform on stage, and it will be when the crown of tonight will be decided.

"Your Highness, who do you think will be the God of War warrior tonight?" Lance stood beside Merlin, his voice trembling a little, although he didn't play himself, he was even more nervous than he was on the field.

After coming to the Valley of the Ashfurnace from Merlin, he intentionally or unintentionally put Drogba and Rommel in opposing positions, and now the business of the Ashfurnace Castle is thriving, and Lance has also made a small calculation in his heart. Although he always thought that Drogba was unlearned, but after a period of training by Merlin, it seems that this stinky boy is not so unbearable.

However, Rommel, who was born in poverty, was more eye-catching, whether it was the Goths' head-kicking game or Merlin's opinion on Drogba, Lance was naturally unwilling.

"Lance, don't worry, things like the God of War Contest are not only about strength, but also about luck. Merlin patted Lance on the shoulder, now that he didn't have the slightest mental barrier to doing such a thing, a sixteen-year-old superior was still difficult to accept in other places.

"Yes, Your Highness, I'm just worried that this kid will be sad if he loses. ”

"Blood on the battlefield is the best environment for knights to grow, and I hope they can grow up quickly. The future of Ashburgh depends on Drogba. Merlin looked at the teenagers running in the distance, "It's not terrible to fail for a while, it's terrible to not be able to withstand failure." ”

The sunset in the west resembles a piece of molten metal, giving off its last bit of light. Caixia is like a burning flame. At this time, a bad thought rose in Merlin's heart, and the loud cheers pulled his thoughts back to reality, and the balance of victory finally fell in favor of the Knights of Ashhearth.

The proud Drogba was lifted high by his companions like a victorious general and began to parade around the arena of the God of War. Roman, looking gloomy, fell on the grass, tears quietly sliding down his face.

Flowers and cheers are the best compliments for the victors, and Merlin holds the belt of the God of War warrior in front of Drogba, "Congratulations, Drogba." ”

The young victor raised his arms and cheered, Merlin's praise was what he craved most tonight. He had been looking forward to the day for a long time. Drogba looked around for his opponent, and at this time he didn't know what his expression would be?

Merlin felt that he should also cheer with them at this time, but he could not do such a thing. Although he has the appearance of a sixteen-year-old, he has the soul of a thirty-year-old.

The noisy crowd refused to disperse for a long time, and Lance had no choice but to send out a team of Ashhearth guards to clear an open space in the center of the arena. Tonight's finale officially kicked off.

At the end of the center are four women, Sura in a black dress with bright red lips, Barbara in a gorgeous long dress with a slender waist and a slender neck, elegant and quiet, and Elena is as passionate as a fire, a casual look and a slight dance can cause a burst of bidding. The last one was a quiet woman, dressed in a bohemian dress, with a grim face. The four women stood still, and countless whistles sounded around them.

Merlin nodded, it seems that the princess of thorns tonight is very popular, Lance has worked hard, he has decided to give his tax collector a good praise.

"Who's that bohemian girl next to Sula?" Merlin asked, calling Raj to his side, his inner turmoil growing, although Merlin was a complete atheist, he also believed in the body's sixth sense, a sense of biological instinct, that could not be explained, but it did exist.

"I don't know, it seems to be someone from among the ronins outside Ashforge. Raj said excitedly, she didn't sign up, but she put a lot of effort into Sula's preparations. Now it's time for the last step, only to find that the opponent's strength is also very strong. That damn second-ring spellcaster woman alone can't be underestimated.

At this moment, Rommel squeezed in front of Merlin from the crowd with a panicked look, "Your Highness, Your Highness, Leah, she's not good!"

Like a thunderclap, Merlin's thoughts suddenly brightened. It's Leah, and that's why Merlin has been restless. She's going to give birth, and Merlin has been paying attention to this matter, but she has forgotten about it as soon as she has been doing it lately.

"Where is she, take me quickly!" Merlin's hand grasped Rommel's wrist like an iron hoop.

Merlin dragged Rommel out of the crowd, "Where, take me quickly." Merlin increased his speed to his limit, leaving a gray shadow on the field, and in the blink of an eye he came to the gates of Ashfurnace.

At this moment, Rommel felt himself soar into the air, and his wrist was held as if it were about to break. "In the stable, they are in the stable. At this moment, his heart seemed to settle down, for so long, no matter what happened to His Highness Merlin, it was all good in the end. This is a kind of faith.

The dark hut smelled of broken alfalfa, and several stout Goth women walked busily around, and a gray furnace-colored tent was erected in one corner of the hut, from which a dim light shone out.

Augustine walked up and down the tent, and from inside the tent came a moan of pain, making Merlin's dangling heart scratch like a kitten's claw.

This is the first new life in Ashhearth, and it must not be okay. Merlin muttered.

"How's it going?" asked Merlin.

Augustine shook his head and said with a sad face, "She may have had a difficult birth!"

"You can save her, right?" cried Rommel bitterly, "you are the priest of the abbey, you must be able to save her, right?"

Augustine shook his head, "Priests are not omnipotent, and if the saint is here, it is still possible. It's a pity that he practiced in the city of Hippo. ”

"I can't save her!" a deep voice came from the shadows of the hut, and St. Thomas, the big red nose, showed a haggard face.

"She's got one foot in the gates of hell. No one can save her. ”

Augustine fell to his knees on the cold ground of the stable, and began to weep bitterly.