Magical Girl's Knight Brother

Chapter 734 A Boy's Dream

Beyond the city walls lies a destructive frenzy, a blasphemous tidal wave of destruction comprised of the Old Ones and their endless retinue, defying logic itself.

Every inch of land is burning, and every roar tells the story of the boundary between life and death.

The mercenaries are the most resilient cornerstone of the defense line. They wear armor that combines modern bulletproof plates with ancient runic armor and grip dark crystal weapons that shimmer with a ghostly blue light.

These weapons are the mainstay of melee units. The chain blades, which spin at high speed and are covered with mithril serrations, flow with a destructive blue energy. When swung, they emit a shriek that tears through the air. When they cut into the rotting flesh or carapace of monsters, the blue light and the filthy black liquid collide violently, producing a sizzling corrosion sound and a stench.

They fought in silence, their eyes resolute, their faces stained with gunpowder, sweat, and splattered black blood.

Commander Desk's roar was their clarion call; every shout of "Hold your ground!" made their weary arms grip their weapons once more.

The casualties were the heaviest, but the gaps left by the fallen were immediately filled by those behind. The defensive line was like a rock, trembling violently under the monster's onslaught, but never collapsing.

The elves stood guard in the towering towers and crenellations of the city walls.

Their figures remained elegant, but their eyes were as sharp as hawks', filled with icy killing intent.

The enchanted longbow in his hand had been modified by an alchemist, with amplification runes inlaid on the bow arm, the bowstring made of extremely tough reverse world mineral fibers, and the arrows were of all kinds.

The Demon-Slaying Arrow, with its arrowheads inscribed with purification runes, bursts forth with a blinding white light upon hitting its target. It is highly effective against corrupted energy armor and is used by experienced rangers to precisely snipe elite targets that pose a significant threat.

Some arrows are infused with alchemical reagents. When they hit a monster, they trigger an elemental explosion, igniting it or freezing its movements, creating a dazzling yet deadly display of fireworks in the sky.

There are also split arrows triggered by mechanical devices, which split into several smaller arrows during flight, covering a small area and suppressing the swarm charge.

They were like precise hunters, never missing their target.

However, the eye-shaped trees among the monsters that can project mental pollution are their nemesis. Often, when the elven rangers are focused on aiming, they are hit by a sudden mental shock, screaming as they fall from a height, or being forcibly pulled away by their comrades, leaving painful and twisted marks on their faces.

Instead of standing on the city walls, the sturdy dwarves piloted Black City steam-powered mechs to the front lines. Their massive bodies were covered with composite armor plates half a meter thick, and scorching white steam spewed from their joints.

Equipped with roaring power chain hammers or rotating crushing drills on both arms, the chain hammers smashed even the mountain-like bodies of the stitched-together monsters into a bloody mess as they swung, while the drills roared and easily tore apart the trunks of decaying trees. They were battering rams that tore apart the monsters' charging formations.

The dwarven craftsmen, shirtless, operated the mechs inside, sweating profusely as they roared as they pushed the control levers. The mechs' surfaces were covered in corrosion marks and impact dents, and hissing white steam billowed from the ruptured steam pipes.

Whenever a mech is besieged by several powerful monsters, its hydraulic pipes are torn apart, and it finally crashes down amidst the curses of the dwarven warriors, it will trigger a brief cry of despair, but a new mech will immediately take its place.

Above the sky, the massive body of the ancient red dragon queen Alex, with each spiral and dive, brought a heavy sense of oppression.

The scorching dragon breath, like a crimson waterfall of lava, spewed from her mouth, burning the swarm of flying monsters that dared to approach.

However, those flying objects covered in a greasy black sheen were exceptionally tenacious; the dragon's breath could not instantly incinerate them, but could only ignite them.

Delay.

Alexstrasza angrily swung her massive, scaled tail, like a dragon's battering ram, smashing any monsters that approached. Her dragon scales were also covered with marks of corrosion and cuts from bone blades.

In the core area, far from the city walls and where monsters are most concentrated, Scáthach's pure shadow form is like the only reef in the eye of the storm.

Her deep blue, fiery eyes had dimmed, like a candle flickering in the wind.

The pure shadow body was covered with terrible lacerations and corroded holes, and wisps of dark energy seeped out of the wounds like blood.

Countless chains, formed from pure will and shimmering with ominous black light, stretched out from the darkness in all directions like living things, tightly binding her limbs, waist, and neck, frantically draining her power, trying to drag her completely into that eternal abyss of darkness.

Each time she swung the weapon formed from shadow, it felt unusually heavy. She struggled to cut through a few chains, but more chains immediately wrapped around her.

The darkness around her was like a viscous swamp, with countless powerful Old Ones' wills and their most terrifying minions roaring, tearing, and charging around her. Each burst of shadow energy could temporarily clear a small area and annihilate a large number of monsters, but it consumed a huge amount of energy, and the wounds on her body became increasingly gruesome.

Her existence is like a nail piercing the heart of a nightmare, enduring the most terrifying sieges and sharing unimaginable pressure on the Black City defense line.

The entire battlefield was in chaos, with many dark crystal weapons having red-hot barrels, dimmed runes, or even shattered.

The steam-powered mechs were overheating, with steam jets from their joints carrying scorching heat waves. The cockpit was like a sauna, and every time they fired at full power or charged, they were pushing these intricate creations to their limits.

As the Dark Crystal Energy magazines emptied, the warriors were forced to resort to melee weapons or pick up stones to fight for their lives, using Flame Arrows...

The reserves of Frost Arrow and Alchemist's Roar reagents are also rapidly decreasing.

The monster's filthy blood and energy have an extremely strong corrosive effect on the runes and metal structure of the alchemical weapons. The dark crystal light is dimmed by the filth, and the adamantite armor is corroded with pits. Every contact accelerates the damage to the weapons.

A dwarf engineer risked his life to stick half his body out of the mech in an attempt to repair a broken steam pipe, only to be snatched away by a tentacle that suddenly attacked, leaving behind a corroded and melted half of a wrench lying outside the mech.

Another human warrior's Dark Crystal Chainsaw Sword exploded due to overload, and fragments of the broken blade embedded themselves in his chest.

In a corner of the city wall where the defensive pressure was relatively light, but the battle was still exceptionally fierce.

Although the monsters were not as densely packed as the main attack, scattered, distorted remnants of the old guard still clung to them like maggots, constantly crawling out from the shadows or piles of corpses, assaulting the exhausted defenders.

One figure stood out.

He was a boy.

He didn't look very old, and his figure was rather thin. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit of armor that was clearly ill-fitting and covered in mud and dried black blood.

He gripped tightly in his hand an ordinary scimitar with a chipped edge and faded runes—not even the lowest-grade dark crystal weapon.

He was breathing heavily, his lungs heaving violently like a broken bellows.

Sweat mixed with blood slid down his tender yet taut cheeks, leaving streaks of dirt.

His left arm hung limply, a deep, bone-revealing wound extending from his shoulder to his elbow, the flesh torn and bleeding continuously. His knees were also trembling slightly, as if they would collapse at any moment, unable to support his heavy body.

However, his eyes—those eyes that belonged to a boy and should have been clear—were burning with a coldness and determination far beyond his years. There was no fear or confusion in them, only an obsession that was almost burning with life itself!

His name was Amu, just an ordinary member among the thousands of survivors in Black City.

He would never forget that long, long ago, when Black City was still struggling to survive in the dust of the wasteland, that tall, legendary figure—Tang Zijun.

During that first conversation, Tang Zijun didn't say much. She simply squatted down, took out two pieces of candy—a true treasure in the wasteland—from her pocket, and placed them into the brother and sister's dirty little hands.

Then, the man looked at him with those eyes that seemed to see through everything. His voice wasn't loud, but it was etched into Amu's soul like a brand.

"Young man, you only have one mission..."

"That is... taking good care of your sister..."

"And I'll protect her with my life!"

This sentence became Amu's only pillar of faith as he struggled to survive in the wasteland, rebuilt his home in the shelter, and faced the apocalyptic frenzy!

He was a part of Black City. In the depths of the alley behind him, in a simple bunker, lived his only family member, his younger sister Xiaohua, whom he had sworn to protect with his life.

Even at the cost of my life!

"Ugh—!"

A monster resembling a giant cockroach, its mouth dripping with corrosive slime, lunged from the side. A fierce glint flashed in Amu's eyes. Ignoring the excruciating pain in his left arm, he twisted his waist and swung his curved blade with all his might.

when!

The scimitar struck the monster's hard carapace, leaving only a white mark. Instead, the impact caused Amu's hand to split open, almost causing him to drop the blade. The immense recoil forced him to stagger backward, tearing his wound open and instantly staining half of his body red with blood.

The monster hissed and roared, seemingly enraged, and opened its jaws to bite down hard, a stench filling the air.

A glint of madness flashed in Amu's eyes. Instead of trying to dodge the fatal blow, he advanced, crouching low and rolling forward in a near-suicidal manner.

puff!

The monster's maw grazed his back, tearing through his tattered armor and leaving several deep, bone-revealing gashes on his back. The excruciating pain made Amu's vision go black.

"For my sister!!" Amu roared like a wild beast, completely ignoring the excruciating pain tearing through his body. He gripped the curved blade tightly with both hands and, with all his might, plunged it into the monster's relatively soft joints!

*Pfft!*

Thick, cold, foul-smelling bodily fluids suddenly gushed out, drenching Amu's head and face. The monster let out a shrill, distorted scream and began to writhe wildly!

Amu gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, his whole body hanging on the monster's body, being flung around like a rag doll in a storm. Each violent swing aggravated the wounds all over his body, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let go. Instead, he used all his strength to violently stir the curved knife inside the monster's body!

"Die!!" The boy's roar was drowned out by the clamor of the battlefield, yet it carried a heart-stirring power!

Just then, another long, slender tentacle, hidden in the shadows like a venomous snake, silently stabbed towards Amu's exposed back. The angle was tricky, and the timing was just when he had been thrown into the air by the monster and his old strength had been exhausted while new strength had not yet been generated.

He was about to be pierced through!

A dim yet incredibly precise beam of dark blue light flashed by!

laugh!

The long, thin tentacle was severed instantly! The broken section was charred black!

It was a similarly scarred human veteran on the nearby city wall, his dark crystal pulse rifle smoking, yelling at Amu, "Kid! Drop your head!!"

Amu obeyed almost instinctively!

boom!

A burst of scorching napalm whistled past his head, instantly igniting the upper body of the cockroach monster that was writhing wildly, trying to shake him off.

The monster let out its final howl amidst the flames and collapsed to the ground with a crash. Amu followed suit, falling heavily to the ground and splattering blood and mud.

He coughed violently, spitting out a mixture of blood and monstrous filth, his body feeling like it was falling apart. He was about to turn around to thank the old soldier when he found that the old soldier was already dead.

Amu's consciousness teetered on the edge of excruciating pain and dizziness.

Every breath carried the metallic scent of blood, and every heartbeat pounded against his body, pushing him to his limit.

The enormous monster with a twisted black goat's head and covered in filthy crystal armor swept him away again with a single, casual wave of its arm, as if swatting away a fly.

boom!

He slammed heavily onto the cold, slippery ground, which was mixed with blood, mud, and monster remains, splashing up a cloud of filth.

The broken ribs throbbed with excruciating pain, the wound on my left arm reopened completely, and my vision was blurred into a crimson blur by blood and physiological tears.

"Cough, pfft..." Another mouthful of blood choked out.

My body felt like it was falling apart; every joint was groaning.

The terrifying black goat cub seemed to have lost interest in him, an ant, and with heavy, eerie steps, turned and crushed towards the weaker side of the flank, its heavy hooves trembling with each stomp.

No... it can't fall...

This belief sustained his long-numbed nerves.

With his still-movable right hand, he dug his way into the cold, sticky earth, his fingernails splitting open without him noticing. His severed arm was pressed beneath him, and every effort he made brought excruciating pain, but he seemed oblivious to it.

He pressed his forehead against the ground, using his head to gain leverage.

Finally, once again, with trembling legs, she miraculously managed to stand up.

His body swayed, like a flickering candle in a storm.

Blood dripped down the tattered armor, mixing with the mud beneath their feet.

He picked up the half of a dark crystal dagger that had been left behind by someone, the runes of which had long since faded, and bit the hilt with his teeth, fixing it firmly to his still-movable right hand.

The blurry vision was fixed on the back of the black goat cub that was wreaking havoc.

So what if you're alone?

So what if our power is insignificant?

As long as there's a breath left!

He was about to stand in front of his sister!

Amu let out a beastly growl, mixed with blood and foam, and dragged his almost numb left leg, staggering and resolutely charging at the terrifying figure again, like a mayfly rushing towards the sun.

Just as he was about to exhaust his last bit of strength, and his consciousness was about to sink completely into darkness—

A broad, steady hand, with the rough texture unique to the battlefield, gently pressed down on his blood-stained, mud-covered head.

A gentle yet exceptionally resilient force, like a stream thawing in early spring, instantly surged from that palm into Amu's exhausted and cracked mind, spreading to his riddled body.

In a daze.

The excruciating pain that gnawed at the soul seemed to be shut out in an instant.

The intense dizziness receded like the tide, and although his body was still broken and battered, the will that had sustained him to stand up was no longer overwhelmed by the endless pain, but became clearer and stronger than ever before.

Amu was startled, his murky vision seemed to clear up a little, and he turned his head in surprise to look at his side.

I don't know when.

A tall figure, as solid as a rock, stood beside him.

The man was wearing a slightly worn but exceptionally crisp dark military uniform, with a simple yet dignified style, broad shoulders, and a tall, straight figure.

His face had strong lines and a steady gaze, sharp as an eagle's, yet imbued with a calm understanding of the battle situation.

What is most striking is the wide cloak fluttering behind him.

The cloak was a deep, dark red, its edges worn and dusty, but in the center of the cloak was a dragon-shaped pattern with its head held high and roaring, composed of golden lines that exuded a burning vitality.

"juvenile."

The man's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a sense of authority, yet also containing an appreciation for the indomitable will of the young man before him.

His gaze swept over the hideous wounds on Amu's body and the broken weapon in his hand, finally settling on his eyes, which burned with the flames of obsession, as if he were seeing his past self.

"I acknowledge your will." The man's words struck Amu's heart like a heavy hammer, carrying a profound weight. "This conviction is enough to illuminate the deepest darkness."

He abruptly changed the subject, casting his gaze towards the raging monsters in the distance and the precarious defensive line, his eyes instantly turning icy cold.

"But this is not a battlefield for children."

His hand, resting on Ah Mutou, seemed to convey the last bit of support as he gently patted him.

"Leave the rest to us."

The words fell.

The man took a step forward.

There was no earth-shattering burst of energy.

But as that step landed, the clamor of the entire chaotic battlefield seemed to be instantly isolated within a ten-meter radius around him by an invisible force.

pressing.

The dragon-patterned cloak behind him moved without wind, fluttering as if it were alive.

Immediately afterwards!

Ugh—! ! !

A loud, stirring battle horn, seemingly capable of tearing apart all the gloom, suddenly resounded throughout the entire Black City battlefield, centered on Fang Xin.

The bugle call contained a pure and powerful will to live and a battle command, instantly dispelling some of the chaotic whispers that lingered on the battlefield!

at the same time.

In the void behind the man, it was like the surface of boiling water.

One after another, agile figures clad in dark blue standard battle armor and wearing miniature dragon emblems on their chests appeared silently in formation, like an iron torrent solidified from the void!

Dragon Group, join the battle!!