Ornn, the Chosen One, a treasure from ancient times!

Chapter 134 The girl was too close

"kill!!"

"Noxus!"

The Noxians stormed into the Omicaiaran jungle, but the dense vegetation and thickets no longer supported their ability to maintain a tight formation, and they were even forced to disperse their ranks as they advanced.

This also gave Herren and his men the opportunity to defeat them one by one.

when!

The crisp sound of Heart Steel rang out in the crowd as Heron, wielding the power of entropy, descended from the sky and crashed straight into the Noxian ranks.

He no longer held back, putting all his strength into wielding the power of entropy. The icy aura of Zhenbing, combined with the natural magic of Omica Yaran, made each swing feel like a biting wind. Anyone who touched it would turn into dust with a crisp sound, and even those who were merely grazed would be frozen and unable to move.

"Bromacia!"

Olaf went completely mad. He didn't care about gaining or losing anything. In the midst of "Ragnarok," his brain didn't give him any room for calm thinking. He slashed and killed anyone he saw. In order to avoid accidental injuries, he deliberately kept himself "out of control" and charged into an entire Noxian army by himself.

The Noxians, however, were completely unable to deal with him—he seemed immortal, unaffected by their attacks.

His attempts to avoid the wounds only fueled his rage.

Fiona remained in the Winter's Claw formation, with each squad having a Vastayan as a scout to engage in small-scale Noxian battles.

Fiona's agile swordsmanship proved surprisingly effective in the narrow, rugged forest, each strike a fatal blow, making her appear like a ghostly assassin.

The Vastaya and Vastayawash, led by Xayah and Rakan, did not possess heavy armor or weapons, but they were skilled in magic and familiar with the terrain. Taking advantage of the terrain, they waged guerrilla warfare against the Noxians, inflicting the most casualties on the Noxians who had not yet settled into their positions.

The task of dealing with the large Noxian advance force can only be undertaken by Winter's Claw.

These Freljord strongmen, clad in heavy Harren-made armor and equipped with superior weapons, stood densely packed at the pass. As the Noxians charged in, they grinned maliciously, raised their Frost Shields in front of them, and roared as they rammed into them.

"For the Claws of Winter!"

The fierce battle lasted less than half a day, and the land was stained red with blood. The scarlet blood turned into trickles of water, flowing on the uneven, newly formed soil and condensing into blood-red puddles.

While Ambeza launched a full-scale offensive against Omicaiaran, a bloody battle was also raging in Presidien, in the central Navoli province.

The Noxians used spears to hold the prisoners against the onrushing Ionian resistance, successfully breaking their will to fight.

Everything seemed to be going in the direction Swain had envisioned.

Until a girl suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the crowd.

She was about fifteen or sixteen years old, tall and slender, and her fighting style was also quite unique. It didn't seem like she was killing people, but rather like she was using the battlefield as a stage to perform some kind of graceful and elegant classical dance.

However, as she danced, a series of sharp blades flew through the air along the hem of her skirt.

Like a butterfly, she charged into the Noxian army's ranks. Perhaps her fighting style was too unpredictable, as the Noxian soldiers, accustomed to wide-ranging attacks, were unable to adapt and react immediately.

The elite Noxian forces were breached by a mere young girl.

The resistance, which had previously lost its fighting spirit, seemed to be awakened in an instant, their will to resist rekindled, and they charged madly at the Noxian spears with inferior weapons and in a rudimentary but very dense formation.

Swain had originally thought that if he broke the deadlock, the carrion hyenas outside might join the battle, but this was completely unexpected.

The situation was briefly opened up, but it was ruthlessly shattered by a young girl. With reinforcements arriving late, Swain had no choice but to grit his teeth and direct the defense.

His tactics were superb and his thinking was quick, but he couldn't overcome the large numerical disadvantage. He had to devote himself wholeheartedly, keep his eyes on every part of the defensive line, and be ready to make adjustments at any time in order to barely stabilize the front.

Swain is Swain after all; even with a significant numerical disadvantage, the front line remained as solid as a rock under his command.

One after another, the Ionians fell, leaving behind a mountain of corpses, while the other Ionians howled and trampled over the bodies of their kin, continuing to charge towards the Noxian halberds like moths to a flame.

Unfortunately, this elite force of over two thousand men was equipped with high-quality halberds, and even in such intense fighting, they suffered very little wear and tear. Swain was extremely grateful for the decision he had made.

Gradually, the huge gap in casualties became more and more obvious. Any human being with a sense of fear would be terrified at the sight of this mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood.

Swain could clearly sense that the Ionian attack was weakening.

He keenly sensed an opportunity and immediately redeployed reserves to the weak points in the defenses, preparing to launch a counterattack against the Ionians.

At this point, Swain felt a surge of excitement rising in his chest—if he could repel the Ionian attack with a mere two thousand men—

Even if it was just once, Swain was certain that this disorganized resistance would never dare to cause any more trouble.

With this in mind, Swain became even more aggressive in his command, his mind racing, so much so that he didn't even have time to pay attention to the "thorn" that had been planted in the army formation.

It was that girl—after Swain stabilized the lines with his commanding talent, the girl and her men were cut off and surrounded by the Noxians.

But no matter how Swain directed the strangulation, the girl remained standing, like an unkillable cockroach.

Swain had more important things to do and needed to focus his energy on the positive side. He didn't have time to spend too much energy on this girl—after all, she was surrounded and probably couldn't cause any big trouble.

Thus, Swain continued to command the attacks, and despite the overwhelming onslaught of the Ionian resistance forces, the Noxian formation not only did not collapse, but also showed signs of advancing.

It's almost done!

Swain was deeply shaken. He estimated that victory in this war was already a foregone conclusion, just one step away from being secured.

But just then, Swain heard a gasp from behind him.

His brain was working frantically, and he was a beat slow to react to the strange thing around him, taking two seconds to turn around.

This mere moment of reaction time, lasting only a breath, led to terrible consequences—

When he turned around, he saw a young and beautiful face, but the blades around her exuded a chilling aura.

"How could this be—"

When the pain overwhelmed his brain, Swain had only one thought in his mind.

"That girl—she's standing too close."