My Players Are So Fierce – Handsome dog Frank-Chapter 74 - 27

74: 27.

Master of White Oak!

Present!

_2

74: 27.

Master of White Oak!

Present!

_2

What she wanted to say was sorry.

But there was no need to apologize.

Dying in such a battle was the best refuge for the now homeless witch hunters.

It was better than living to return and face the loathing and fearful gazes of those they had once protected, being condemned as traitors and then ruthlessly sent to another battlefield by the psychic of the indifferent Circle Tower.

Their lives had become expendable in the war; perhaps this had been their fate from the beginning.

Natalie closed her eyes.

She felt very tired.

She just wanted to get a good sleep now.

Maybe in her sleep, she would be able to embrace her death and reunite with her mother in another world.

The memories of her loved ones seemed to have been blurred and tainted in the dark nightmares of war, which was simply unacceptable.

The sound of galloping hooves resounded in the dark night.

Amidst the panting and restless neighing of the warhorse, a tall knight from far away jumped to the ground and hurriedly walked into the deathly quiet camp.

The gruesome scene before him moved the knight who wore a helmet and carried a large oak sword on his back.

Realizing what had happened, he bent down, lifted Natalie and Ambo closest to him out of the camp, then turned back to find the veterans, Porter and Norman.

The two had already lost their lives…

But their last breath had been only a few minutes ago and their souls had not yet traveled to Hades; therefore, there was still hope!

“May Avalon bless you, the mission of the loyal knights is not completed yet.”

Whispering the name of the god, the knight took out a green seed from his waist bag and put it in the mouths of the two old soldiers.

As his finger glowing with green specks struck heavily at their hearts, the seeds of life fused with their hearts, and then started to beat weakly in this strange state.

Whether they could be saved was fifty-fifty under such circumstances.

However, tonight truly favored the warriors.

Natalie was soon awakened by the commotion around her.

She could feel warm water flowing into her mouth, the strange taste was probably due to herbs.

The relief sent a wave of ease over her exhausted spirit.

Struggling to open her eyes, she saw a familiar face.

Covered in wrinkles, seemingly in sorrow, gray hair stretching out from under the helmet, a scar remained on the bridge of his nose above the left eye, and the aged eyes radiated a measure of worry.

“Father… Battle… Battle Group Commander…”

The huntress shivered and held the old knight’s hand.

She coughed and said with difficulty:

“We… failed…”

“Rest, child, you all have done very well.”

The old knight, also known as “the Battle Group Commander”, reassured:

“Your falconer’s Swift Shadows brought the message back to headquarters, and it also led me here.

You led almost one-sixth of the Blood Vulture Clan’s hunters into the trap, that’s an impressive feat in itself.

I’m here now.

I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Please… avenge… for the warriors… I beg…”

Natalie finally put her mind at ease.

Her exhaustion didn’t let her stay awake any longer.

Her head slanted and she drifted into sleep.

Soon after, a small but ferocious and wise grey hawk anxiously flew down, hopping around next to Natalie and crying mournfully towards the old knight.

“She’s fine, Swift Shadow.”

The old knight stood up, pulled down his helmet to cover his cheeks and said to the falcon:

“Take care of them.

I’ll handle the remaining trouble.”

He whistled and a large red warhorse galloped into the camp.

He grabbed the reins and in one swift motion, sprung onto the horse, charging the narrow path of the Polluted Swamp.

The flame burned behind him, extending the shadow of the old knight.

As he got closer to the vampires’ battlefield, the large sword on his back with a sacred white oak handle and decoration began to hum ominously.

“Ah, you too can sense the evil looming.

Good.”

The leader of the White Oak Battle Group could feel the fervor rising within his weapon.

He croaked out:

“You haven’t been this active since the downfall of the old order, do you still remember the shame that the Blood Vulture Clan bestowed upon you?

Perfect!

I’m so furious right now!

Offering the vampires’ eternal silence and the vengeance brewing in the forest as a sacrifice to the holy blade, I ask you to aid me.”

The great oak sword, wrapped in its ragged scabbard, droned like the haunting cry of forest winds, making the surrounding trees tremble in fear as they parted ways to clear the path for the horseman.

The vines retreated, the branches lifted, and the limbs tilted, seemingly in response to the knight’s advancing charge towards the battlefield, while the ear-piercing hum of the sword sounded like a rallying cry, a hurry.

Finally, he saw the Midnight Hunters slowly retreating in the dark of the night.

Those sickening crimson specters were retreating in the blinding night, their protection offering them the illusion of escape.

How… naive!

“Retreat!”

Miss Phemys hurled the dark Psychic Lightning in her hand viciously towards the remaining three gun-wielding soldiers.

Her hunters have suffered significant losses due to those damn psychics.

Although they managed to eliminate a group of human soldiers and witch hunters four times their size, the moment she realized the convoy trucks had pulled out, she knew staying and fighting was pointless.

Eliminating that high-ranked psychic from the Circle Tower is not impossible.

But it’s meaningless!

If they kill one here, the Circle Tower will dispatch three more.

As the main stronghold for psychic users in the human world, no one knows how many battle-ready psychics the Circle Tower actually possesses.

Humans are terrifyingly capable of learning.

Their short lifespans are like pathetic fireworks, but their growth speed evokes jealousy from every vampire, no, every supernatural creature.

Miss Phemys had already ordered for a retreat.

The Midnight Hunters, having lost more than ten Nightwalkers, hastily retreated.

They had an absolute speed advantage and the enemy’s pursuit force had been eliminated.

No one could stop them from fleeing.

However, just as these vampires turned to leave, they saw that the once peaceful Smugglers’ Forest had instantly transformed into a malicious labyrinth.

Vines flew like serpents, ensnaring those airborne hunters and dragging them into the forest, while uneasy shapes formed from the shadows of the trees on the ground.

They were trapped.

Suddenly, the blue-green flames of the landscape erupted, forming into a cleaving longsword in the darkness that bifurcated a Midnight Hunter who couldn’t dodge in time.

In the gale from the galloping red warhorse carrying its knight, the bisected Midnight Hunter’s scream echoed as he turned into a burning rotten wood.

His crimson embers flickered, soared, and ultimately dissipated in the howling forest.

Miss Phemys’s blood-colored pupils contracted abruptly at the sight of this scene.

That was an elite Midnight Hunter who was advancing towards Silver Grade, killed in a single strike?

He didn’t even have a chance to recover or escape?

Who could it be?

And that odd sword!

What is that thing?

The elder knight on horseback seemed to sense the surprise of Miss Phemys floated in the air.

As he beheaded another Midnight Hunter with his sword and the flames scattered, he looked up through the dispersing embers.

His old eyes no longer held fear or weakness, replaced by a sharp, deadly glare.

“To the Blood Vultures, greetings from Finoc Lawson, the Holy One of the Old Order, the Master of the Oaks, and the White Knight!

The bells of eternal silence have tolled!

Wretches, repent!”

His declaration echoed in the air.

He swung the oak holy blade that was ablaze with cleansing fire, and one more sneaky vampire was cut down.

The explosion of even more dazzling red embers left Miss Phemys with no choice but to turn and flee without hesitation and without any response.

She had heard of this name when she was very young.

Finoc, the Oak Knight, one of the three Holy Protectors of the old order… a Gold Stage!

Damn it!

This monster, who is at least 200 years old, was not supposed to appear here at all!

Mother of the Night, have you abandoned us?