He was the only powerhouse in the entire Kingdom of the Moon over level 60, and one of the ten Heavenly Punishment Knights among the eight nations of the Holy Church.
Aside from the strongest of them, Sacred Knight Caesar of Angel City, these ten individuals represented the peak power of the Holy Church's eight nations.
If that powerhouse were here, Brilliant City wouldn't be in such a passive state, even if the demon army attacked in force.
Unfortunately, it wasn't just Will Kevin; even four of the eight Guardian Knights had been transferred away.
Martha had spent a year planning this, ensuring that only the minimum required four Guardian Knights remained to defend Brilliant City.
This was the lowest level of protection permitted by the city's regulations.
I wonder which one of them is leading the army this time.
To know one's self and the enemy is the key to victory.
Too bad she only remembered the explicit scenes and didn't have a detailed understanding of the plot.
'Regardless, this war cannot be lost!'
If they lost, it meant she would become a plaything for the demons.
The thought alone was bone-chilling!
Time flies when one is deep in thought, and an hour soon passed.
The knights, their formations orderly, rose from the ground, ending their brief rest.
The sound of hooves approached from a distance, and Hilda's stern voice reached her ears.
"Knights! Today, we fight to the death for Brilliant City and Her Highness the Saintess! I do not want to see a single deserter. If I find one, I will personally take their head and hang it upon the city walls for all to scorn!"
"For Her Highness!"
"For Brilliant City!"
The knights' response was soul-stirring!
"Mount up!"
The rhythmic clanking of armor rang out in unison.
Hilda's voice came from outside the carriage.
"Your Highness, the knights are ready. We are only waiting for the signal from the West Gate."
"I understand."
Luo Li replied calmly, her face still wearing a confident and compassionate smile.
In truth, she was quite nervous, as this battle would decide her future fate.
But at this stage, nerves were useless.
Luo Li took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and waited quietly for the signal from the direction of the West Gate.
When that signal flared, it would mark the beginning of the end for this great war.
...
Meanwhile, in Brilliant City, less than ten miles from Luo Li's position.
Cheerful, boisterous singing could be heard from below the city walls, and the thick scent of malt wafted on the wind.
Soldiers stood atop the walls, holding wooden beer mugs and drinking cheap ale, their faces full of joy.
The retreat of the demon army had finally allowed these soldiers, long unaccustomed to war, to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Come on! Drink up!"
A dead-drunk man named Mark held his wooden mug high, the amber liquid sloshing inside.
"Hahaha! Mark, you're wasted already? After just a few cups? Look at you, swaying like a lizard that drank oil. You can't even stand straight!"
The soldier called Mark turned back to look at the man mocking him—their squad leader.
Normally, Mark was considered a bit of a coward in the squad, but with the alcohol flowing, he felt light-headed and airy, allowing his suppressed personality to emerge.
"Haha... I'm not drunk! Look, I can see the distant scenery perfectly fine."
Leaning over the battlements, Mark peered into the distance and pointed toward the stars.
"Look, that's the North Star... and over there, that mountain is the Holy Mountain of Brilliance... and there, those massive shadows, I know they're demons! Captain, look!"
Mark grabbed his captain and pointed drunkenly at the distant shadows, shouting:
"Look! That height, that build... no race other than the demons could have such massive bodies."
Mark laughed heartily as he saw the shock and fear on his captain's face.
"See? Captain, I wasn't wrong, was I?"
Mark's legs gave way as his drunken exhaustion hit him. He slid down the wall to the ground, his eyelids drooping uncontrollably as he fell into a muddled sleep.
The other soldiers laughed boisterously at his pathetic state.
Among them, the captain was the only one not laughing; his face was pale with terror and panic. He stared at the dense, dark shadows in the distance, cold sweat drenching his forehead.
"Captain? What's wrong? Don't tell me Mark's words actually scared you? How is that possible? Didn't the demons already retreat?"
A squad member rested a hand on the captain's shoulder, speaking dismissively with a wooden mug in hand.
The captain didn't respond. Curious, the soldier turned to look at his leader.
Noticing the captain's strange expression and fixed gaze, the soldier instinctively followed his line of sight.
The crescent moon seemed shy, hiding behind dark clouds and occasionally peeking out to glimpse the earth.
From the battlements, one could see the rolling hills stretching out like waves.
And on the hill closest to the West Gate, countless dark shadows were descending the slope, as dense as a swarm of ants!
The sight made their hair stand on end.
A cool breeze brushed against them.
In the wind blowing toward them, besides the singing and the scent of ale, there was a strange odor.
That was the unmistakable scent of the demon race!
The captain and the soldier turned to look at each other, their bodies stiff.
Pure terror was etched onto their faces.
"Captain? What is it?"
A soldier with a better tolerance for alcohol looked at the two in confusion.
"I say, Captain, you two wouldn't..."
The others burst into laughter upon hearing this.
But then, the captain suddenly spun around and roared at his laughing men:
"Quick! Get the clerics to use Light Arts! Notify the magic corps to construct a magic barrier immediately! The alarm! That's right! Ring the alarm bell now! The demon army is attacking!!"
The men froze. One soldier, seeing the captain's frantic expression, realized something was wrong. Just as he turned to run for the alarm bell...
A flash of silver light cut through the darkness.
'Shink!'
The men watched in shock as a figure stepped out from the shadows where the light had originated.
"I'm sorry, everyone. I cannot let you ring that bell."
It wasn't until the figure spoke that the captain recognized him.
"Lord... Cyrus?"
Wasn't this... one of the commanders of the West Gate, Brave Knight Cyrus?
Why would he attack his own people?
The captain's mind was a tangled mess.
He stared blankly at the rapier in Cyrus's hand. Blood from his comrade still clung to the blade, dripping onto the ground.
A flash of realization struck him.
He had seen Martha's demonization earlier that day.
In an instant, he understood everything.
"Cyrus, you've sided with the demons? Everyone... run! Notify the Temple immediately! Sir Cyrus has betrayed the Holy Church—"
His words were cut short.
"You know too much."
With several flashes of silver light, the soldiers on the wall clutched their throats, staring at the knight in disbelief.
No one could have imagined that a Temple knight of such high status would betray them!
The bodies collapsed to the floor.
Cyrus sneered at the corpses before his figure vanished back into the darkness.
Similar scenes were playing out all along the West Gate walls.
Squad after squad of guards fell, turning into corpses.
Because of this, despite the significant noise made by the demon army, there was no reaction from the West Gate.
By the time the demon army reached the foot of the West Gate, neither the magic barrier nor the holy light barrier had been deployed.
The battlements were empty...
No, there was still one person left!
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