Knight of Order, the most faithful believer of Somu, the Lord God of Order, and the most devout guardian of the faith. This title not only represents high honor, but also represents the strongest combat power in the entire kingdom of Orem, and they are even called the "Hand of Somew".

When the soldiers on the battlefield saw Duke Junhe leading the cavalry vanguard composed of the Templar Knights of Order, like a sword radiating dazzling brilliance, piercing into the enemy line like a lightning speed, they burst into an even more astonishing combat force. Because the soldiers of Olem always believed that when the Duke of Junhe and the Hand of Somuel appeared on the battlefield, it would be a battle to be won.

However, war is always about the glory of the victor with blood, and fame is only a later embellishment.

The most tragic impact erupted on both flanks of the battlefield, the cracking of bones, the neighing of horses, and the dull slashing sound of slashing were intertwined in the iron streams that met and separated. The splashes of blood and stumps mixed with countless cold rays that rose and fell, like waves on the head of the tide, brought out a most cruel whirlpool. Someone didn't even make the slightest sound before they fell off their horses, completely drowning in the icy wrestling.

Cyrian, who rushed to the forefront, was already covered in blood, his delicate armor was covered in blood, and the arc drawn by the long sword in his hand brought out a thick rain of blood.

Although the rebel cavalry composed of mercenaries was far from being comparable to the well-trained Orem cavalry in terms of tactical literacy and individual combat effectiveness, it must be admitted that these mercenaries did cause some problems for Cyrian.

"These mercenaries must be dealt with quickly, and the longer the time passes, the greater the casualties in the infantry phalanx. Thinking of this, Sirian swung his long sword violently, only to see a faint golden halo suddenly flash on his armor, and the blood stains that had originally covered the surface were then dispersed, and the surrounding knights of order suddenly felt refreshed, and their movements were much lighter.

This is a group blessing technique that can only be released by high-level knights of order, and similarly, the knights around Sirian understood Sirian's intentions very clearly, and the rhythm of the battle instantly increased to a notch.

At this moment, Sirian suddenly noticed that a small squad of the rebel cavalry was charging towards him at a very high speed. Unlike the mercenaries with mixed equipment, this cavalry squad was neatly armored and orderly, and the knight at the leader was dressed in dark gray armor, and the pitch-black cloak flew against the wind behind him.

The distance was getting closer and closer, and a knight of order beside Sirian also noticed the strangeness of the other party, and raised his horse to block in front of Sirian to meet him.

The knight on the opposite side raised his head slightly. Suddenly, Sirian seemed to smell a hint of danger, a cold that made people extremely uncomfortable. "Be careful!" the Duke yelled at the Knight of Order in front of him, only to find that the Knight of Order suddenly tilted, and a red blood arrow erupted from his neck and fell off his horse.

Before Sirian could recover from his shock, the Grey Knight had already rushed forward, his lightless sword in his hand seemed to bring out a gray streamer in the air, slashing at the top of Carian's head.

Raising his sword to meet it, Sirian found that his body, which should have been blessed, was visibly stiff. "This is?!" Ciri was startled.

Then, a string of colliding sparks erupted between the two striking swords. The moment the figures mismatched, Sirian saw the cold dark blue eyes in the other party's helmet full of barbs.

What Sirian didn't expect was that the Grey Knight was clearly not satisfied with the result of the draw.

At the moment when he staggered, the opponent slashed at the hind leg of Sirian's war horse with a backhand. With a scream, Duke Junhe and his horse fell heavily to the ground.

The cavalry charge on both sides did not stop, but they all tacitly bypassed the two of them. Like a rock standing in the rushing waters, an eerie clearing abruptly opened out in the midst of the intertwined cavalry battle arrays, as if this was the center of the war.

With the force of the forward rush, Sirian quickly adjusted his body the moment he landed on the ground, quickly turned around and stood up, standing his long sword in front of him, waiting for the next round of impact to come.

Unexpectedly, the other party did not kill and chase after the victory, but stood in the distance, silently watching the Duke of Junhe. The pitch-black war horse snorted restlessly, the silver ornaments on its bridle head clanged, and the dull sword was now in the hand of the gray-armored knight, and the cold blade pointed straight at the earth.

Sirian immediately understood what the Grey Knight meant, and that the other party not only wanted to take him off his horse, but also to kill himself with dignity, rather than relying on a sneak attack under the pursuit of victory.

"How long has it been since I've been so embarrassed?" Sirian thought with a wry smile, then took off his helmet and slowly threw it on the ground, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, savoring the tension or anticipation that he hadn't seen for a long time.

When he opened his eyes again, Sirian had already retired from his dignity as a duke, and he was just a simple warrior at this time. Those clear eyes are as firm and majestic as an eternal river.

The Grey Knight seemed to sense Cillian's change, and slammed his horse's belly, and the whole person rushed towards Cyrian like a black light that tried to devour everything. The fierce murderous aura tore at the Duke of Junhe, the flying hooves of the horses were like the drumbeat of reaping life, and the black cloak seemed to obscure the hope of all living beings.

Sirian stared at this opponent he had only seen in his life, not daring to relax in the slightest. Because he knew that this knight with an unknown reputation had absolute strength and determination to kill himself, and that it was an endless battle in this clearing.

Several gray breaths rose from the hands of the Gray Knight, and the lightless longsword slashed at Sirian's chest again with a twisted speck of light. At this moment, a barrier-like shield-shaped light curtain spread out in Sirian's hand, and the gray knight's long sword slowly stalled as if it had cut into the clay, and a bright white sword light slashed out from behind the light curtain, bringing up a mist of blood smoke.

Time passed, the golden curtain of light shattered like glass and then returned to nothingness, and the staggered horse was no longer able to carry its owner, and rushed straight to the ground, while the gray knight was thrown out of a distance and fell to the ground.

With a "snap", the armor on Cyrian's left shoulder cracked in response, and the bloody wounds covered the entire shoulder, and fine beads of sweat flowed down his solemn cheeks, and he did not have a trace of joy, because this death match had probably just begun.

"Hahaha!" a burst of wild laughter finally broke the silent duel. With laughter, the gray figure slowly stood up, "Duke of Junhe, General of the Legion, the greatest knight of the Holy See!

The Grey Knight muttered to himself as he removed his helmet. It was a face that grew paler under the long fine black hair, like a patient who had not seen the light for a long time. A pair of deep blue eyes radiated a deep, icy glow, two thin lips beneath the high bridge of the nose, and a slightly green stubble that covered the entire chin.

It's an unsettling face, and Sirian may even think of the difficult politicians in the capital, but unlike the conspirators who are always planning something behind the scenes, there is an indescribable mystery in this muscular body, and an unshakable determination and confidence.

"My name is not worth mentioning before the lives that died because of you. Sirian said in a cold voice.

The Grey Knight shook his head slightly, raised his feet and walked to a safe distance between the two of them, and then bowed gracefully. "Don't be so serious, my duke. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Solam Bartodil, a loyal follower of the Lord of Chaos and commander of the Free Army of Sardinia. Then he opened his arms and gazed at Sirian proudly, and continued, "How is it? Are you satisfied with this gift, honorable duke?"

Solam's words deeply infuriated Cyrian. "Don't you feel the slightest bit guilty? How many warm families have been shattered because of this! How many young lives have become dry bones in the grave because of this! Death is your rightful destiny, your heinous soul! Villain!" Cyrian roared and swung his sword and rushed towards the gray figure, golden light floating and shining on his body, and the runes of the law appeared and disappeared on the armor, which was the power of order that symbolized light.

Instead of dodging, Soram met him. Then, a huge crash exploded between the two of them, and the staggered energy rolled up the broken grass and scattered, and the two long swords pressed together to the death.

Facing Cyrian who was close at hand, Solam's voice was fierce. "Wicked people, let me tell you what evil is! They are not bought, they are not afraid of coercion, they are unreasonable, they are unwilling to compromise! They only want to see the world destroyed!" he said, pushing Sirian away vigorously, "Unfortunately, although the characteristics are the same, our faith is more noble!"

"Put away your hypocritical lies!!Is it necessary for your faith to sacrifice the lives of thousands of people?!, Lord God, this is what you call noble?!" asked Cyrian angrily.

"Joke, isn't the eternal merciful Lord God of Order in your mouth not allowing mortals in the world to choose other faiths?" Soram raised his left hand, a strong aura of ash rolled in his hand, and then stared at Sirian and asked rhetorically.

"You can choose, but you are treason!"

"Treason!!haha! What a ridiculous reason I heard!" Solam's laughter was sarcastic, "Tell me! Is it the clash of beliefs that makes you and me fight for your lives, or is it the honorable title that makes you have to eradicate the rebels who seek freedom?Is it Somu's will that keeps you from dying, or is it the rolling gold coins that make you raise your butcher's knife to kill the civilians of Sardinia?Consider these two questions in the void of death! With that, Soram waved his hand, and the gray gas seemed to be given life and turned into several smoke arrows and shot at Sirian.

Cyrian obviously didn't expect the change in front of him, and immediately raised his sword to cut off the gray qi, but found that they were scattered when he touched it, but he immediately regrouped, and then wrapped around his body again and again, binding himself in place, no matter how he tried to break free, it was useless.

"Die!" shouted Solam, who rushed to the front, raising his sword and slashing down, as if the next moment he could see Sirian lying in a pool of blood.

At that moment, Sirian struggled to raise his hands above his head and clenched his fists sharply, and a circular light shield suddenly descended like a curtain above his head, holding him in the middle. The expected scene did not happen, and instead of slashing at Cyrion, Solam's longsword was bounced high by the light mask.

"It's you who die!" The moment the light shield that had blocked the fatal blow disappeared, Sirian let out a low roar and stabbed a sword into Solam's exposed chest.