Your Majesty's money, why don't you engrave my name on it?

“The string is broken,” the bard complained helplessly, but as her eyes moved, a light gradually brightened in them. “Wait, I have an idea! Skadi, could you lend me some help? I have a bold idea!”

Skudy knew the poet's abilities. Although Daisy was unreliable at times and often was, she wouldn't do anything outrageous under these circumstances. So she readily agreed and assigned all her personal guards to Daisy's command.

With a unicorn by her side, she wasn't too worried about her safety.

“Great, so many people!” Daisy rubbed her hands together excitedly. “I’ve never collected this many homework assignments when I was in school… Alright! Now you all follow my instructions!”

“Miss Daisy,” Citi was also among the group, and as an acquaintance, she naturally responded enthusiastically, “what do you intend for us to do?”

“It’s simple, sing!” The bard clapped his hands. “But don’t be too strict. If you can sing, sing; if you can’t, hum; if you can’t even hum, just clap along—you all have weapons and shields, right? That’s enough! If you don’t have any, tap on your armor. Just follow me. Surely not everyone can do such a low requirement?”

Although they didn't know what Daisy was planning, since Skadi had assigned her to lead, the guards prepared as instructed. As the sounds of weapons and shields, joints and armor clashing gradually blended into a unified rhythm, the bard's expression began to turn serious.

“Give me a rhythm…give me a rhythm, let me think of a tune…” Daisy closed her eyes, as if all the strife and killing around her had faded away with the darkness in her vision, or as if they had never left, but had been integrated into a melody that had not yet been uttered. “I’ve got it, Ampiri…we’ll use this!”

She suddenly opened her eyes, and a humming prelude enveloped the surrounding guards with a faint magic. In a daze, it seemed as if dark clouds were approaching and a storm was brewing. As they were immersed in the melody, which was so different from Daisy's usual style, everyone stared wide-eyed, waiting for the horn to sound—a sound they had never heard before, yet which was destined to come.

And as that mournful horn call truly sounded, Daisy's singing resonated in everyone's heartstrings:

"Sweeping across the sea, sailing through the waves, the plains are verdant, the mountains are wild and desolate, every horizon is the beginning of conquest, rise up and take everything into your hands!"

The ship sails far from the cold currents of my fjord, crows fly over my vast territory, war songs and legends, our destiny lies in this, raise your strong shields and hold your sharp spears!

Whether we defend or plunder, let us unite as one, traversing storms and thunder, for only glory will accompany us forever!

OH-HO-OH—Valhalla is calling! OH-HO-OH—Valhalla is calling!

Chapter 672 Chaljiji

Music itself has the power to evoke emotions, and when it resonates with magic, the effect is far more than just one plus one equals two.

Daisy wasn't good at the somber parts of the song, but with its simple melody and lyrics, after she sang it only twice, the guards around her were able to fill in for her. Although none of them had received the same professional training as Daisy, their rough voices complemented the melody and lyrics, adding to the bloodshed and savagery.

As their voices gradually rose, the surrounding allies seemed to be encouraged as well. With Daisy's manipulation and control, the eyes and bodies of everyone in the nearest army were now stained with a blood-red spiritual light!

"Valhalla is calling! Valhalla is calling!"

Amidst the rousing songs, the mercenaries, shouting and charging fearlessly towards the enemy, charged forward. In that moment, each seemed like a Dobul or a berserker from Eastern Inasas; pain was insignificant to them, and death a sweet, eternal destiny! If swords and spears broke, they used shields; if shields shattered, they used fists and teeth! Fear and hesitation were nonexistent concepts. In this war, there would be no winners or losers, only the dead, and the dead!

"This is..." Even Longzhi, who was high in the air, was shocked by this scene. He had never seen or even imagined that a bard could influence the battle in such a way. Such a large-scale incitement was beyond the capabilities of an ordinary spellcaster!

"You, begin preparing for the ceremony immediately!" Commander Long ordered. Several previously hidden sorcerers revealed themselves and went to meet him. Commander Long himself, after casting a fireball in Daisy's direction, didn't even look at the result, but rushed straight towards Joki and Chargigi of the Popazobote family.

He had to free these two self-consuming individuals first! Fidel saw clearly that Joki had lost most of his power, and if he helped the Extinct One, the situation would only become more "muddy."

The answer is obvious.

"Fidel!" Joki saw Dragonfinger approaching and quickly called for help, "Quick, help me kill him! That way I can free my hands!"

A strange smile appeared on Longzhi's gloomy face. The next moment, he did indeed join the battle, but his target was Qiaoji.

"Damn it, what are you doing?!" The dragon's breath, filled with endless malice, instantly engulfed Joki. His roar, filled with shock and rage, echoed across half the battlefield, but it did not persuade Fidel to stop.

"Everything is for the purpose of fulfilling the prophecy."

The addition of Dragon Finger rendered Joki's remaining resistance futile. Chalgiji seized the opportunity and once again flashed in front of his junior, his bone palm piercing Joki's heart at the root.

“Well said, little guy,” the demon’s eyes flickered with an emotion similar to that of Dragon Finger. The two schemers didn’t need to coordinate before they reached a consensus. “You will be rewarded.”

The Acacia Wand fell into Chargigi's hands, and with Jogi's complete death, this undead creature instantly transformed into a deathly black wind, sweeping across most of the battlefield.

No one could see how he made his move, but in just a moment, as he swept past the dark elves, Matriarch Lilindra, who was presiding over the ceremony, coughed up blood. As he swept past the dragonborn, Ember and the others were immediately severely injured. Wherever he went, whether it was the army on Fidel's side or the mercenaries on Raslaufer's side, none of them were his targets.

And his ultimate prey was none other than Daisy, who orchestrated that battle!

This bard has wielded far too much influence over the situation!

"Veruna!" Angelita noticed this and quickly reminded the unicorn beneath her. The unicorn immediately let out a neigh and headed straight for Chargiji, attempting to intercept the ancient mage who was not quite dead.

Judging from the timeline alone, Verunara was only a dozen years later than Chargigi in terms of active time. However, the difference in power between the two could not be measured by such a timeline. In just one exchange, the blessing and shield on the unicorn shattered like bubbles, and even its self-healing ability was instantly exhausted. Verunara only had time to scream before she and Angrita were sent flying backward and crashed into the dust.

That direction leads deep into the enemy's army formation.

"Annie!" Skadi was shocked. Without thinking, she immediately spurred her mount toward the direction where Angrita had fallen, intending to save her. However, in doing so, she inevitably lost sight of others. With his newfound power, Chargigi laughed wildly as he chanted a spell, easily destroying the portal on Skadi's side. At the same time, the tip of his wand gathered magic circles filled with death and corruption, which he then hurled at Daisy and her guards.

“Well done, little girl,” the demon showed no sign of stopping. Even though a single death array would have been enough to annihilate his target, he still unleashed a chain of lightning that illuminated half the sky. “But your journey ends here!”

A terrifying arc of electricity, as thick as Raslaufer's torso, pulsed through the crowd, asserting its presence. Any living thing touched by it was instantly electrocuted to a crisp; their deaths were even more gruesome than those caused by the death array itself. The only consolation for the dead was perhaps the absence of pain in their final moments. In mere seconds, all the guards brought by Skadi were wiped out; not a single one survived.

But Chargigi, who was in mid-air, narrowed the flames in his eyes.

A pit, barely wide enough for one person to pass through, was concealed beneath a pile of corpses. This might fool others, but it couldn't fool Chargiji, especially since he was already an undead creature.

“Clever tricks, but useless,” the demon sneered as it landed, and without the slightest hesitation, it followed the demon into the hole. “You think you can survive by turning into a mole? Let me tell you, back in my hometown, there were plenty of people who hid better than you, but in the end, I still found them one by one and killed them.”

"I advise you to give up quickly, come out and face your death, so as not to waste everyone's precious time."

That prophecy. Chargigi pondered to himself. He had just noticed the progress of the sorcerers under Dragonfinger's command. He had to return soon after they completed the ritual; only then would the prophecy be truly fulfilled.

He deceived everyone—Richard, Joachim, the witch… even his own past self—because only in this way could he rewrite the course of the prophecy and ensure that its ultimate benefit fell upon himself—forever.

He didn't mind delaying for a little while to conserve his strength, since he still had a tough battle to fight.

Chapter 673 Unfavorable Situation

Amidst the chaos, Raslaufer continued to charge through the enemy lines, surrounded by mountains of corpses. Many belonged to the dragonborn of the Dardan-Julien clan, while the majority were human soldiers and knights from various kingdoms. Here, their only commonality besides death was that almost all of them left behind only broken fragments.

Even though Raslaufer is now virtually invincible thanks to absorbing the life force of his victims, it would be impossible for him to break through in a short time. These soldiers seem to be under some kind of special magic, making them fight to the death without retreating, and they are ignorant and fearless.

However, at least among the crowd, Dubul was one of the few whose life was not in immediate danger.

The sounds of magic exploding rang out one after another from the side, but as the smoke cleared, what Ember Crown, who had paused her scorching ray, saw was merely a fire lizard shaking its head. This enormous elemental creature was completely unfazed by her flames, only its mind was somewhat dazed from the impact. Sensing the pain, it emitted a series of sharp crackling sounds, summoning the surrounding fire serpents and fire lizards to once again surround the Five Friends of Magic Scale in the fire elementals' common language.

Poison Wing's poison magic and Shard's lightning magic had little effect on these creatures, not to mention Edward's strong acid, which only intensified the temperature and intensity of the surging flames on and around them. Almost all the burden fell on Frostbone's shoulders.

"Whoosh—" The freezing rain and hail of magic swept across this "hot land," shrouding the dragonborn in shadows of the snowy night. Meanwhile, shackles and chains formed from frost pierced the darkness, sneaking into the bodies of elemental creatures that had entered the snowstorm's range, instantly freezing their hearts (or similar organs) and severing their life force.

However, Shuanghai alone has her limits in terms of both magical power and concentration.

Just as the White Dragonborn dealt with another fire serpent, a dragon claw suddenly pierced through the storm, instantly shattering the armor erected by the Poison Wings, and slammed into Frostbone's back with the weight of an entire red dragon whelp. Even though the Dragonborn's physical abilities surpassed those of ordinary people, this blow still caused the surrounding ice and snow to freeze abruptly. Frostbone collapsed to her knees with a thud, a mouthful of blood spurting from her mouth.

"Mere dragonborn," the young dragon's voice, though immature, carried an undeniable authority, "daring to be so insolent before a dragon—"

Before the words were finished, a cone-shaped breath of fire surged out, the scorching flames licking the weaker Swamp Throat and Poison Wing, knocking both of them down at the same time. On the other side, no matter how much Ember Crown and Gleaming Stone struggled, they could not get rid of the entanglement of several fire lizards. After being hit by several tail strikes like steel whips, they were both lifted up by spears and could not move an inch.

A dragon is a dragon after all. Even a fledgling dragon's breath is far more powerful than the dragonborn's breath weapons, and even magic that imitates dragon breath cannot easily compare to it!

This is just a fledgling dragon. Apart from being more skilled in using fire due to its origin in the fire elemental plane, it doesn't even know many spells!

"Damn it!" Felix, who was not far away, shrank his pupils upon seeing this scene. He had received favors from these dragonborn and knew very well their strength. That's why he absolutely couldn't stand idly by and watch them be captured. However... there was truly nothing he could do.

To support this battle, he even transported siege weapons like crossbows from the portal. However, against elemental creatures, the effectiveness of these heavy machines was still negligible. They might be able to injure a few fire lizards, but rescuing the dragonborn from these large elemental beings was simply beyond their capabilities. Helpless, Felix vented all his resentment on the surrounding mortal enemy soldiers, hoping to alleviate Reslaufer's burden and free him to deal with the troubles on the red dragon's side.

Raslaufer did have this idea, but it wasn't just the Dragonborn who needed his support.

"Rip—" With a groan as the fabric tore between her legs, Mary nearly collapsed to the ground once more. She managed to twist her injured wrist and deflect Rodrigo's swift sword with the Blade of the Sea Song.

“As long as you lie down obediently, you can live,” Old Sword scoffed, his figure moving with an agility beyond his years, quickly retreating and leaving Mary no room to take advantage.

Before he struck the girl’s wrist four times, ankle six times, and other joints eleven times, his slight underestimation of her nearly shaved off a lock of white hair from his sideburns. After that horrifying experience, the Sword Saint treated Mary as if she were a peer.

This girl is very talented, extremely talented, even more so than him. Otherwise, Rodriguez would have already struck with deadly force on the very first blow. Although the Swift Sword appears light and agile, as a sharp weapon, it is very easy to kill. In the chaotic battles of the Corazonde region, in battles dominated by swordsmen, the vast majority of the dead had no more than two wounds: one on the wrist or ankle, and the fatal wound was on the throat or heart.

But this talented girl softened Rodriguez's heart. She wasn't just talented; she was focused and wouldn't give up easily. Because of this, Rodriguez was willing to let her go through more than twenty rounds on his own.

He was already over eighty years old, and his last disciple had died in a foreign land. Considering his own actions at this moment... his reputation was no longer important.

In this battle, he was just an ordinary person who came to repay a debt of gratitude spanning more than sixty-five years. On that day, a certain sorcerer treated a poor boy who had nothing left but his sword to a hearty meal.

He arrived, and he clearly saw the situation on the field: Mr. Fidel held an undisputed advantage. Therefore, he could do his own thing, but he had to worry more.

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do that,” Mary said, her body swaying slightly, making her words less convincing. “You must stand here.”

“This is the last time,” Rodriguez shook his head, “even if I don’t hit your vital points with this sword, you won’t be able to hold on.”

After several encounters, Rodriguez understood Mary's current condition even better than Mary herself.

"The last time..." Mary felt her vision blurring. Perhaps it was really as the old swordsman said. She was already at her limit, both mentally and physically—even though she hadn't even touched a single hair of her opponent's hair and was completely on the defensive.

But even so... no, even so, isn't this situation a form of oppression, a kind of shackle?

A light, icy chill, as if in a final burst of energy, surged up from the back of Mary's neck, penetrating straight to her head. Subconsciously, Mary began to chant again the three-part aria she understood nothing about:

“Thalas'shar…”

"Thalas'shar... zhoth'vundar!"

Chapter 674 This sword strike is perfect.

Thick water mist surged from the sword once more, transforming into waves that surrounded Mary, much like the tides. Her previous exhaustion was merely the receding tide on the beach, and as the tide rose again, her strength would return.

Even the wounds on Mary's body began to heal rapidly, as if none of the injuries had ever happened to her.

Rodriguez watched this scene quietly, without intervening, even though he could have done so.

Even if Mary had ten more chances to return to her prime, she still wouldn't be able to take victory from him, but the old swordsman wanted to see just how far this girl could go.

"The recovery is going well?"

Only after the strange sights surrounding Mary subsided did Rodriguez slowly speak, "Now, may we continue?"

Mary paused for a moment, realizing that this level of "miracle" was far from enough to win her the game. But looking up at the still fiercely contested battlefield, she knew that putting Rodriguez up there would only worsen the situation.

“I’m ready,” Mary said, taking a stance. “I hope I can take another twenty of your swords.”

That was indeed her expectation, but Rodriguez did not share this view. The old man shook his head and said, "Even if you take two hundred more sword strikes, your skill level will not improve in the slightest, Miss Margaret, because I have only surpassed you in sword techniques at your level."

He had sixty years more combat experience than this girl, and even with the exact same techniques, he could easily overwhelm her, which was exactly what he had just done. The reason was simple: this "lower" level of technique was enough for him to show mercy to Mary.

But that might not be a form of respect.

“Next, there’s only one move,” Rodrigo’s wrist trembled at an imperceptible frequency, and even the tip of the sword did not deviate in the slightest, but its end emitted an ominous ringing sound. “But with this move, I will show you what the pinnacle of Corazonde’s swordsmanship is really like.”

“Reslaufer is not a good swordsmanship teacher, especially since he is not very familiar with Corazond swordsmanship. It would be a waste of your talent to learn from him.”

"Let me teach you this trick, and you'll experience it for yourself. If you survive, in ten years, or even just five, you can become the next Rodriguez."

But you won't survive. The Sword Saint thought to himself.

No one had ever survived his sword strike—not even a blue-legged dragon-serpent. He merely wanted this talented young woman to witness the true "pinnacle" before she died.

That was something he hadn't had a chance to show Sid yet.

Just as Rodriguez had predicted, Mary held her breath and focused intently, preparing to receive the impending attack. Rodriguez was certain she still couldn't block it, but if he attacked directly, it would be so fast that Mary wouldn't even be able to see it.

That won't do.

The old swordsman's boots scraped across the ground, tracing a partial circle as usual. But within that short arc, a myriad of variations seemed to be hidden—tangents, secants, chords… In Mary's eyes, they seemed to explode like a kaleidoscope in an instant, filling her entire field of vision and even completely engulfing her thoughts. She was so engrossed in observing these curves and lines that she seemed to have forgotten where she was, and even more so that Rodrigo's blade was about to fall upon her.

She had no choice but to do this, because even a hundred sword manuals combined could not offer her as many variations as Rodriguez had demonstrated in this one step!

At that moment, she understood why this sword strike was unstoppable—because even the most tricky and extreme angles and changes were all contained within the trajectory of this sword! Even using magic to interfere and obstruct it could not prevent the target's life from escaping this sword strike!

0.8359 meters, Mary calculated this number, which was the distance between her being alive and death. If she could change it, she could survive. But in this rapid calculation that was almost at its limit, Mary desperately discovered that it was almost impossible!

Because in the end, this value will become a constant! She deduced that Rodriguez's swift sword would block all her movements with thrusts and four different slashes, and could even calculate the landing points of all these movements, but she could not calculate her chances of survival—because these formulas are ultimately unsolvable!

Then there's only one way. Mary gave a bitter laugh, resolutely swung her sword in one direction, and simultaneously crashed into the other side.

This is a matter of probability, or, to put it less elegantly, it's... guesswork.

She could only gamble that due to various factors such as the opponent's physical condition and age, these oversights that were difficult to quantify might lead to a sliver of hope in this seemingly unsolvable attack. But even Mary herself dared not believe it, and she might not even want such a loophole to actually exist.

What a perfect sword strike...

The cold blade brought a half-slash close to her vulnerable neck, but at this point, Mary could no longer resist. As if resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and quietly awaited death.

Anyway, if Anne and Lord Raslaufer win, she should still have a chance to return to the world... right?

For a swordsman, such thinking could be described as utter despair. However, the sword did not pierce her body as Mary had calculated. She staggered to her feet and almost instinctively swung her hand back towards Rodriguez to retaliate. When she opened her eyes, she saw a flash of emerald green sword light, which steadily blocked the sword saint's swift sword.

Who else could it be but Angelita?

"This is impossible!" Rodriguez lived up to his title of Sword Saint. Even in his extreme astonishment, he was still able to make an extraordinary response, deflecting both the Guardian's Song and the Sea Song Blade, before exclaiming in shock, "No one can withstand this attack!"

This attack was flawless; if even one person intervened, it would be countered. What kind of "perfect" would that be?!

“Nothing is perfect, Mr. Rodriguez,” Angelita, who had somehow escaped the chaos above and leaped down into the tomb to rescue Mary, replied softly. Her eyes shone with an emerald light as she switched the longsword and shield in her hand, working with Mary, who had regained her senses, to further press the old man into a corner. “Don’t you understand this after all you’ve lived?”

"Live... this long?" Rodriguez seemed to have grasped a key word, and when he looked at the longsword in Angelita's hand, he seemed to have an epiphany.

Yes, as a human, he spent his entire life perfecting this sword technique, making it flawless. Ordinary creatures would indeed be unable to decipher it. But what if an elf had spent the same amount of life studying this sword technique? That would have taken six to seven times longer, spanning four or five centuries... And Corasund is one of the regions in the western world where the elves were the last to leave.