Fighting, a fight with no end in sight...... In the square outside the palace gate, the floor that had long since turned red was still dripping with blood and corpses. However, neither the Knights of the Sacred Tree nor the soldiers of the Legion of Hantu City had the slightest intention of stopping, and they did their best to maintain the line under their feet, and continued to break through the opponent's defenses again and again.

Back and forth, back and forth, until both sides don't even remember what they were fighting for, why did they have to take the life of the one in front of them, who was a Turin like themselves, why did they have to pierce each other's chests with the sharp blades in their hands?

From the beginning to the present, I am afraid that no one can remember the time except the sun in the sky - the narrow but spacious enough square has become a terrible mill of flesh and blood, and when a hundred-man team or a flag regiment rushes into it shouting hoarse slogans, the result is the same, except that the length of time will be slightly different.

Fatigue, aches, casualties, numbness, detachment...... Both sides were the same, even the soldiers of the Legion of Hantu City had lost the excitement and excitement at the moment when they saw the little prince Anson rush into the palace gates, but every order conveyed by the mechanical executor standard-bearer and centurion—when the brethren died one after another, when their robes died quietly, the heart that had beaten violently became harder and harder, and more and more lost its senses.

The only thought left for them is - they can't lose, they must not lose, because the only way to lose is death!

No one is not afraid of death, not even them.

Only those who still have obsessions in their hearts still know why they are standing here. What are they fighting for...... Even on this battlefield where there is no hope, they are still like drowning people who have grasped the straw that has saved their lives, and even at the last moment, they are unwilling to give up hope.

"God bless Turin—!"

The hoarse voice no longer knew that this slogan was shouted for the first time, and Repinos, who was panting violently, stabbed the broadsword in his hand through the center of the chest of the veteran of the Order in front of him, and stomped him to the ground without mercy. Then snatched the opponent's weapon: "Attack, attack, push them over again, attack forward!"

The never-ending wails and screams echoed in his ears, the muffled sound of the collision between the broadsword and the shield made the bones tremble, and Rebinus, who was trying his best to support his body, was still waving the Blood Cross Battle Flag in his hand, and continued to advance with the First Banner Regiment, which had already suffered more than half of the casualties, holding up the shield and stepping on the corpse of the brother in front, and slamming the enemy's defense line with the bottom end of the shield.

"Offense - !!!"

It's still the same slogan. It was still the same banner - the already exhausted Hantu City Legion was still following the banner and continuing to advance. His Royal Highness Anson has stormed the palace, and Chief Adjutant Greene Turn's fate is still uncertain, and they can only trust the "Chief Flag Bearer" to carry out his every order.

Even if they didn't know if the man under that banner was Edward Wetwood or not, all they needed now was a commander they could follow, a commander who could bring them victory.

A stalemate and chaotic battlefield, if not for the completely different flags of both sides. Even both sides will think that they are fighting against their comrades, blindly following their respective battle flags. Desperately use the weapons in his hands to fight with the enemy in front of him, and then closely follow the footsteps of the people in front of him, constantly moving forward.

"Forward, forward, rush over - take the palace gates!" Le Binus kept shouting, "Take the palace gates down," Le Binus kept shouting, even though his voice was so hoarse that he couldn't even hear clearly. And then we won!"

A simple sentence can be more exciting than any heart-stirring slogan. Whether it was the soldiers of the Battle Banner Legion or the elites of the other Hantu City Legions, their eyes were fixed on the closed gate, and they tried their best, and the footsteps became heavier and heavier. His breath grew thicker and thicker, his eyes widened, and with the last of his strength he pierced the throat of the enemy with the spear in his hand.

They all have only one thought now: rush over, then rush up, and win!

Legionnaires huddled together, knights wielding two-handed swords and spears...... Fighting was staged in every corner, on every floor tile, and the fallen corpses were piled up at everyone's feet, and then became the driving force to move forward, all in order to rush to the palace gates.

Finally...... The palace guards guarding the center began to crumble, and they were not as tenacious as the knights after losing their captain, and before that, they had been defeated by the royal knights and the first banner regiment of the Guards Legion several times in a row, and it was only a matter of time before they collapsed.

The defeat of the central front also caused some turmoil among the garrison corps and knights on both wings, and they had to start to turn from defense to offense, moving closer to the center of their respective military formations, but the result was that the front was scattered, and it was no longer possible to stop the advance of the Hantu City legions, and the defensive surface became narrower and narrower, and more and more enemies rushed through.

It's like a crumbling river embankment - from the moment the first stone shatters, the end is already preordained...... The rest, unless it comes to the Radiant Cross, is only a matter of time.

The retreating knights had to extend their battle line to the stairs, and the collapsed palace guards had to pick up their longbows and crossbows and began to resist powerlessly - but even those soldiers who were still resisting did not believe that they could still turn the tide, but only managed to hold on, buying time for Berion in the palace.

Rush over, rush up, it's almost there, it's almost there! With each step of the stairs, the expression on Rebinus's face became more and more excited, even a little fanatical. The city of Turin, the royal palace on the hill of Marcherus, the bells of the Glorious Cross, which he had dreamed of countless times in his dreams, were also all things that he could only see in a dream, for a native of Turin who had been born in the Vast Land.

Here, it's his Starry Sky Divine Kingdom!

Is everything he has done really loyal, or is he just a coward and a traitor like his father in the mouths of others? Rebinus's mind was still confused but still confused - but now the answer was in front of him, as long as he rushed forward, as long as he walked into the throne hall, everything would be solved.

I can't wait to run wildly, the pace under my feet is getting bigger and faster, and my mood is getting more and more excited and eager...... Not even noticing that the surrounding enemies were not all down, and the battle was not really over.

"Attack, for the sake of His Highness Anson Marcherus, for the sake of the Kingdom of Turin—!" shouted desperately, the desperate Repinus was the first to rush up the front stairs, and the soldiers behind him had to speed up their pace, blocking one enemy after another for the chief centurion, and trying their best to catch up.

The blood-stained broadsword in his hand fell to the ground, and the distracted Repinius didn't even notice it. Little by little, he walked forward, pressed his right hand on the gate of the palace, and pushed forward with all his might, and his eyes trembled with excitement.

But the door did not open - Ludwig blocked it with a spear before he died.

"Poof!"

The exhausted body trembled suddenly, and the chief centurion who felt a sweet corner of his mouth slowly lowered his head, and a blood-stained arrow pierced out of his chest, and slowly turned around, and another arrow flew towards him even more impatiently, tearing his throat and breaking his neck bone with flying blood flowers, nailing to the door behind him.

Little by little, his eyes lost their brilliance, and the chief centurion, who was still "standing" there, still holding the Blood Cross Battle Banner in his left hand, held it high above his head with his last breath, and all that echoed in his ears was the hunting sound of the banner. (To be continued.) )