What is magic?

Tracing back to its original words, if you break down the literal meaning, it is obvious that it is the magic of gods and demons, a mysterious skill and spell that only gods or demons can cast.

So, what is the art of gods and demons?

It is a phenomenon that transcends the realm of human comprehension and is impossible for humans to fully analyze, or even imagine, but it does exist.

Miracles, magic, miracles. No matter how many expressions are changed, they all have the same meaning.

It is used to describe and summarize those things that transcend human beings.

This is the general impression of ordinary people who have a little understanding of it.

In the book "The Origin of Magic" by Camilo Semkius, the royal magician of the Laman Empire, he introduces it in this humble tone:

"In the face of these creations, which have a long history far beyond human beings, culture, language, and even imagination. ”

"Pale and weak. ”

"Just as newborns are confronted with something far more complex than they can comprehend, although it is real, because they are not able to understand it, they naturally cannot use the same immature language. ”

"Description. ”

"We are familiar with and master the knowledge of architecture, military, production and life. ”

"Science. ”

"What is known is 'science,' and it is no exaggeration to say that Padrosi's scientific prowess is the best in the world today. This is the pride of the Lamanite nation. ”

"Place. ”

"But we also have things that we cannot understand, and this still immature science and incomparably shallow wisdom cannot tell one-ten-thousandth of its complexity. ”

And it was called. ”

"Magic. ”

————

Humanity's study of magic is still infancy, and more often than it is true to understand the principles behind it, it is copied directly from other races with much longer history, especially the elves.

This is also the reason why elves who can go out and live always have a high status in human society.

The elves imparted weakened magic to humans, and people copied and copied them, wearing the same basic teachings all over the place.

At best, humans have learned only a few simple magics. And even so, they just learned how to use it by drawing a gourd.

This is the reason why humans are unable to develop new magic.

It is also the reason why they will seem so powerless in the face of the "unknown".

The Grand Master of the Ninth Frontier Order of the Empire, Edwardin Javinan, who was fifty-nine years old at the time, was a Suomir from his name.

Suomir surnames and names are often interspersed with natural scenery, and words with the suffix "south" usually translate to either lakes or fields. "Ning" is similar to the "Sen" in the surname Thomson, which means "son".

Awkward names are like the ice and snow and the introverted and reserved personality of the people there, which is often difficult for outsiders to understand or accept.

But for the vast majority of the Lamanites, who were engaged in the profession of fighting, they did not need to understand to that level of profundity.

There is a saying among the mercenaries of the East Coast.

"If you see a person who is silent, he is probably a non-talkative person. ”

"If you see a man who is silent and has a big sword on his back, he is probably just a hunter who doesn't like to talk. ”

"If you see a man who is silent, who is tall and has a big sword on his back, and who has a funny name. ”

"Then you'd better pray that he doesn't appear in your opponent's camp. ”

"Because it's a Suomir. ”

Move freely in the snow and ice.

A brute force and a cool head.

Pale hair and lake-blue eyes, a delicate toasted blue armor covered with snowflakes.

The white steel greatsword is swung horizontally.

Between the splashes of fire, there is a heroic spirit that can defeat a thousand.

"Whew—hey!" Edwardin kept his composure, swinging his sword again to avoid his opponent in front of him, while closing the distance in the direction of his allies with a sideways step.

The old man was skilled in using weapons, and he used inertia more to wield the big sword in his hand than his own physical strength.

It's a sign of experience, and the less experienced will often choose to use fast and hard blows in order to quickly finish the opponent in front of you, but when you're lucky enough to survive many big battles, you'll slowly start to realize the importance of conserving your strength.

This is why weapons and armor born in the midst of war are often much lighter than the heavy armaments used by hunting mercenaries.

In addition to the armament you carry, the ground environment is also an extremely important factor.

It is true that the Suomirs have the best ability to resist the cold, and this kind of "but" weather of more than 20 degrees below zero is more like a "warm winter" for them than "bitter cold". But that doesn't mean they can walk through the snow.

Calf-deep snow takes far more effort and time to move than on flat ground, and heavy snow can cause great resistance when you step on your legs and feet to pull them out for the next move.

In such terrain, many well-trained soldiers will die early if they fail to play their due strength.

Edwardin had anticipated this, but was conflicted in his communication with the nominal leader of the entire army, the Duke of Julión de Sephosiu.

Obviously, as a traditional and powerful Lamanid aristocracy. Duke Julionde was very unhappy with such a so-called "independent army" that was outside his control, and when Edvanin, with the usual poor language skills of a Suomir, tried to convince the other party to listen to his own opinion, which was more experienced in dealing with ice and snow, and ordered his men to clear the snow to expand their horizons and facilitate their movements.

This terrible way of speaking, which was obviously a show of seniority, unsurprisingly drew a reply from the Duke of Julionde.

"Are you mocking us southerners for not knowing how to fight in the snow and ice? Yes, after all, we don't live in a country where you have to carry a snow shovel when you go out to. His ridicule drew laughter from the Lamanite nobles, and the young duke continued: "But I would like to ask what is the point of expending a great deal of strength on the soldiers before the battle, and as long as the snow is falling one day, no matter how much we clear it, it will still accumulate the next." ”

There are thorns between the lines, this young duke, who has just inherited the title of his deceased father for less than a year, belongs to the "Beat Generation", and he rejects the old regiment leader with the arrogance and arrogance of young people and the seemingly reasonable statement on paper, and this bitter fruit.

It was only five days before it was fully revealed.

The strange black shadow that loomed from the border of the Bao Forest disturbed the morale of the army, and the scout force of more than 300 people sent out in the heavy snow was sunk into the sea.

Anxiety and restlessness swirled in the command, but it was clear that sending a second search and rescue force out of the annoying snow would not be a good one. And the young captain of the Seventh Brigade of the Independent Knights couldn't help but say the phrase "don't listen to the old man", which further detonated the sharp atmosphere that was already needle-sharp in this already not harmonious army.

Accusations against each other, spitting between red lips and white teeth, sneering and spitting, who should be held responsible for the scouts are pushed around, they are more like shrews in the street or scholars in Raman than soldiers.

Padrosi, a dignified eastern power, has finally fallen to this.

As a result of years of not experiencing a major war, those in high positions are often judged not by military merit and ability, but by their origins and political skills.

Let a young and vigorous politician on paper be the commander-in-chief, and what will this army look like when it comes to strategic planning, it will be.

You can imagine it.

"Ha-hu-ha-hu-hu-" Edwarden pulled his thoughts out of his memory, it became more and more difficult to concentrate as he got older, and people would always wander when they were tired, but fortunately this familiar ice and snow more or less played a role in keeping his mind clear. He breathed heavily, fighting in heavy armor in the snow and ice had exacerbated the consumption of oxygen, and the old man was mindful of his physical exertion, but the situation was still not optimistic.

How long the battle lasted, Edwardin could not remember.

When these undead first appeared, even the well-informed was too surprised to speak.

Others may not understand, but Edvarin, who was born in Suomir and is familiar with this ice and snow, knows it.

Suomir had almost no cold-blooded creatures.

Snakes and lizards have been wiped out by the bitter cold of the Far North winter, and no one has survived, except for warm-blooded animals that can heat up on their own, where they are large and have a thick coat of fur or fat, where heat is everything, and only those who can maintain hard-won temperatures can move flexibly.

At this temperature, when the heart of a certain organism stops beating. Its muscles, internal organs, and blood would freeze hard in just a few minutes, making it difficult for an axe to split.

So how did the one god on these undead spirits, who were apparently too dead to die, overcome the cold that would freeze everything, trek forward, and move with agility and agility?

"That's about what they call magic. ”

It has transcended the traditional cognition of human beings and the conventional way of warfare of human beings. The large army gathered north of the town of Scotti was 13,000 men, a level of strength and good equipment to dominate the east coast, but when the object of their battle became "unknown".

The performance of these soldiers and even mercenaries is generally the same as that of ordinary people who are powerless.

The monsters that were coming at them in a rage were only a thousand or so at best, and the only real threat to get rid of the relatively slow-moving humanoid corpses was the three hundred or so ghouls that could run through the snow.

But this well-equipped army of 10,000 men lost almost all of its strikers in the first wave of the attack.

Armed only with helmets and cuirasses, the spear infantry had their throats tore apart by their claws and sharp teeth, and the ghouls were almost clinging to the ground with extreme speed, and with the thick snow distracting their vision, they were slaughtered directly into the unsuspecting human army.

And experienced commanders understand.

Once an army is in chaos like this, the best thing to do is to keep the follow-up troops at a distance and form a tighter formation to prevent the confusion from spreading to the entire force.

"Experienced" commanders.

Julionde, apparently, is not among them.

He was originally full of confidence, but panicked.

Like a player who can't stand the intimidation of his opponent, when he is frightened, his natural reaction is to play all the cards in his hand and try to stop his opponent from doing his best.

As a result, the follow-up troops were sent up before they could assemble a well-organized formation, and joined the chaos in loose formations, which did not save the situation but further expanded the chaos.

The center of the battlefield turned into a meat grinder.

But that's just the beginning.

The ferocious ghoul resembles a fierce tiger, with sharp fangs and poisonous teeth, and its bites and scratches inflict great damage on ordinary infantry who are not well protected. Many of the humanoid undead who followed behind them were former Imperial soldiers, and in the chaos of the battlefield, the soldiers could not see their faces clearly, so they had to judge friend and foe from their equipment, and when these "people" also entered the army array.

This madness has reached a complete climax.

You think it's a teammate and turn your back to him. But it's a damn undead who stabbed your unprotected neck from behind with a rusty sword.

You red-eyed and slash at a guy you thought was an undead, only to be splattered with hot blood before you realized it was a living person who had accidentally lost his helmet.

What's even more terrifying is that not long after you kill him, he literally turns into a dead corpse and gets back up.

The situation has deteriorated so quickly that no one can react.

Edvarin, who led his subordinates to rush to the rescue, realized in the middle of the road the fact that unless a miracle happened, the central battlefield would be out of control. Knowing this, he was about to lead his men back to the left flank to get closer to the royal mage who knew more about this kind of strange things, but suddenly found that his side was also surrounded by enemies.

— or is this really the enemy.

"Hell, how the hell do these guys be so nimble!" the screaming squire slowed down by half a beat, and his throat was accurately slitted by a long sword.

Edwarden was silent for a moment, the two opponents in front of him were very skillful, and his move to retreat towards friendly forces had brought disaster to them.

"Phew—heh—" The old chief's gasping became intense, and he began to feel tired, but he could not rely on his men. He pulled away, and just as he had expected, the two hideous-looking undead chased after him with swords in hand.

One lowered his posture with a sword in his left hand, while the other was behind him, cooperating with the other side.

Is this the fighting quality that an undead should have? Apparently not.

As with many other things, once a warrior has reached a certain level of fighting skills, they will begin to explore and discover their own unique fighting style.

The usual starting style, the interval between attacks, and the habitual use of which move will be used next after this move.

If you are very familiar with each other and often fight each other, you don't need to look at your face to tell who it is from the style of your moves and even the pace of your shots.

"Dio and, Brom......"

The senses are blinded.

As you get older, not only your wrist strength and physical strength, but also your eyesight will begin to deteriorate.

But the old man's heart was clear, and from the cooperation between his every move, he recalled the situation in which the two young knights had fought against him when they were still immature.

It's magic.

But how it was affected, he didn't know.

One advance and one retreat, between the exchange of gold and iron, Edwardin still had time to take a look at the surrounding scene.

As a seasoned warrior, he was well aware of the importance of knowing the numbers and directions of both the enemy and the enemy.

These enemies did not appear out of thin air, and the number of people on the left flank and in the open space in the center has not changed at all.

It's a friendly army.

Turned into an enemy.

Or at least with the naked eye, they become twisted and ugly undead.

"Those who are unstable in mind are deceived by the whispers of demons. ”

"Walk into the frozen forest and never return. ”

"Even the soft words of a loved one cannot be awakened. ”

The old Suomir legend, even to Edwardin, was more like a fairy tale and superstition than truth.

But how to explain the strange scene that is really appearing in front of us that cannot be described in words?

After all, even the magicians and scholars who lived in the research room every day could give a reasonable answer to all this, Edwardin was skeptical.

He wielded the big sword in his hand, just forcing the other party back, but he didn't really kill him.

This seems to have been conveyed to Brom and Dio, who must have been deceived by magic as well, for on several occasions the old Master showed weakness and they did not take advantage of the attack.

But that's about it.

The attacks did not stop.

Don't talk about them, even Edwardin himself won't stop.

Because it was a war none of them had ever encountered, he couldn't gamble his life on a possibility.

Perhaps these two knights are still human, but their vision is blinded. But this feeling is vivid, what if they have really become undead for some inexplicable reason, and they have not killed before just because they are no longer as sensitive as before after transformation?

And even without the change, ending the fight is not something Edwarden can do alone. Chaos was raging in the wake of the chaos behind him, and his precious members of the Independent Order were slashing at each other with their swords wielding their swords, spears stabbing at each other.

He was heartbroken, but powerless to stop it.

In the eyes of Brom and Dior, they must have become ugly undead, and they must have recognized themselves from their swordsmanship and pace, but that is why they chased after them.

Having witnessed the horror of the central battlefield with their own eyes, the horror of the undead made these seasoned knights tremble.

So when they found out that the respected Grand Master had become the most terrible enemy, even if they couldn't bear to do it, they had to bite the bullet.

A razor-sharp blade can indeed give enemies a head-on blow, but when you can't tell friend from foe, it becomes useless.

This is a war that goes beyond "common sense".

If you ask Edvarin to strategize against another human army, he can quickly come up with a variety of detailed tactics that work with each other, as well as the deployment of logistics and various aspects.

If the opponent invents a new weapon, he still has the means to react quickly, find the opponent's weakness, and then respond to the battle.

But when faced with the unknown.

All he can do.

Only pray to God.

"Pang!!

The reaction force of the collision made it impossible for him to rely on inertia to continue swinging, but this did not bother the old leader, he only reversed his wrist and rotated his body, and with this force, he changed the direction and began to swing again.

Iron butterfly.

This is what the Lamanites called this set of swordsmanship.

If a large sword of this size is to be used against people, it must have a set of self-contained methods of swinging the sword.

It uses inertia to continuously wave, like the huge wings of a fluttering butterfly flapping up and down.

Beautiful, but deadly.

"Knock-knock. "Hey!" a sword slammed into one of them, and Edwarden leaned in and kicked the other.

He gasped for breath, and his body, which was no longer young, began to show signs of exhaustion, but Edwardin had no chance to rest on such a battlefield.

"Boom—— squeak!" "Uhh

"Hiss——!" The dry undead opened its mouth and emitted a hollow airflow sound, and if it wasn't a real necromancer, the illusion magic was terrifying.

"Drink—" There was no time to hesitate, there were nearly a thousand people in the Knights, and Edwardin was only familiar with some of the people at the top.

He severed the undead's head with a single sword, though it was possible that it was a living person, only because he was too discerning by the hallucination.

But he didn't have a choice.

"Ahh The old leader's snow-stained countenance, which was full of pain, lifted his hand behind him with great difficulty and drew the axe, which, though it would make it impossible to stop his bleeding, could not move even with an axe stuck in his back.

"Huh-" But the next second, things took a turn for the worse again.

Edwardin immediately realized that he had killed one of his own regiments, for even though the corpse he saw was still an undead, the attacks on him by Dio and Blom, who had risen again, had become deadly and vicious.

In the eyes of these two children, I am afraid that I am cruelly beheading a living member of the Knights.

Already.

Running out of options.

Edwardin looked back.

Blood spilled from his back stained his short white cloak red, and seemed to have wreaked havoc on his internal organs, causing a mouthful of blood to spill to the corners of his mouth.

The old warrior took a step forward with his great sword in his hand, and slashed at the two young knights.

"Ding!" a gap appeared, and Edwardin, who no longer kept it, cut off his opponent's sword, but the weapon in his hand was also damaged.

"Hey!" he slammed his shoulder directly into the opponent's chin, and then hugged his opponent's waist with one hand and slammed it directly into the snow.

"Thorn-" "Uh-cough" Another sword stabbed through the gap in the armpit of the armor, and the close-fitting chain mail did its duty, deforming and disintegrating under the force of the impact.

Edwarden immediately felt his breathing become difficult, and he judged that his lungs were damaged.

Already.

Even the sound of shouting.

None of them can be sent.

"Boom!" the great sword was stuck in the snow, and the old leader couldn't even stand without relying on it.

But he hasn't fallen yet.

"haaaa——!" A hoarse and silent roar, the old man covered in his own blood slashed his opponent's sword with another heavy blow with his sword in both hands, and then the powerful thighs in the leg armor rose like thunder and lightning, and the knee armor made of steel met the opponent's chin heavily.

"Poof-" The opponent who flew out backwards fell into the snow.

"Thorn—"

But before he could catch his breath, a dagger plunged straight through the gap in the neckline of the back of the armor.

"After all....... I can't get down to the dead hand. The great sword in his hand fell to the ground.

"Illusion lifted—" A wave of magical light swept across the room.

Like a mirror that had fallen to the ground, the ugly monster shattered piece by piece, revealing its original appearance of panting and covered in blood.

"Damn it, stop me. Camilo, who was so anxious that he stomped his feet, even his usual weird way of speaking was gone.

"No—I—I—" Dio's voice sounded behind him, and he stepped back with trembling blood-stained hands, while the old leader, who could no longer speak, turned around with difficulty, and reached out to try to touch his head, but only to hang down limply beside him.

"Don't be careless!" Camilo roared hoarsely, his frozen lips cracked and bleeding from the roar that opened his mouth to such an extent, the bright red color contrasted with the pale face of the Wizard, and in the midst of his shouts, several large ghouls struck at high speed from the other side.

Dio, whose face was pale, looked at his bloodied hands and trembled, while the other members of the Order, who realized that he had been killing his companions, were not much better.

"Settle your mind! Fight first!" Camilo shot a fireball, but the ghoul deftly avoided it. He tugged at Dio's neckline, and the tall and sturdy knight was stumbling by a short, thin and weak magic mentor in his ill-prepared situation.

"Slap ——!" Camilo woke up Dio with a slap.

"Do you want to kill more people, stupid knight!" he roared like a woman's scream, but it also managed to wake the chief knight, who rushed over and picked up the Grand Master's greatsword, and then desperately slashed at the dead and ghouls.

'Yes, that's fine. ’

'As I taught you, don't hesitate, don't hesitate. Edwardin put on a smile and poured into the snow.

'Don't be like me......

'I'm so sorry'

'Although I have been given such attention, I am immortal, but I cannot repay your expectations. ’

'His Highness Konstantin. ’

Sleepiness began to strike, and although Edwardin struggled to resist not wanting to transform into one of those monsters, he desperately struggled with the lobes of his lungs and exhausted his last breath.

But before the world truly fell into darkness, he saw someone on the far horizon holding something high.

"Otuz!" was a nice girl's voice, and with that, a gust of wind and a disillusionment far greater than the magic Camillo had unleashed swept across the battlefield.

The snow on the ground was flying wildly because of the strong wind.

Before they fell, Edwardin saw the dusty Konstantin riding his war horse and holding a great sword in one hand.

Blonde elven magician.

The indomitable prince.

But what he couldn't take his eyes off was the man behind him who was very similar in appearance and temperament to Constantine.

Or, maybe it's the men that these guys with the blood of the Suomirs are deliberately imitating.

The great sword with the slanted gauntlet.

Even at this distance, the brilliance is remarkable.

'Hehehe-hehe-' silently, Edwardin laughed.

I didn't expect to be old. ’

'I still believe in fairy tales—'

'The shining miracle of eternal night, the aurora of Aurora. ’

'Just once, I really want to. ’

'Look at it again—'

"Whew-" exhaled with his last breath.

Grand Master of the Ninth Frontier Order of Padrosi.

He closed his eyes serenely.

Only 13 hours had passed since the start of the battle.

More than half of the human army has suffered casualties.

And the witch.

Hasn't shown up yet.