The Legend of White Rose

page views:1 Publication date:2023-04-02

White Rose, the city-state closest to war on the southern plains, lies a thousand miles ahead to the horizon, and a hundred miles west to the Sea of Trees, where one must also face the annual onslaught of orcs. Fortunately, the treacherous and steep Spirit Mountain Range provides a strong barrier, and at the entrance to the mountain range lies White Rose, a city entirely white, its white stones now tinged with red from blood. This city, which has withstood constant attacks since its construction, has become a war fortress, firmly holding the orcs' southward advance in check.

Even though the city is only a century old, the orcs must pass through it before they can invade the southern plains.

At this moment, amidst the dense sea of trees, faint laughter and rough voices can be heard, clearly belonging to the orcs. They are wild and untamed, yet they often reside within the sea of trees.

In this sea of trees, several snow-white women stand out conspicuously among the green-clad orcs. The orcs, with their thick, long genitals, lewdly grin at the women, their enormous genitals, each a foot long and incredibly thick. The women were kneeling or squatting, their upper bodies bound with rough hemp ropes, while two enormous penises were inserted into their vaginas and anuses. With each thrust, crimson blood oozed from the green phalluses. For these human women, this was excruciating pain, and their cries were futile. Instead, they provided amusement for the green-clad beastmen.

In the center of the orcish horde, an exceptionally strong orc was thrusting in and out of a snow-white body. The woman's beautiful figure, lovely face, lingering tear stains, and resentment in her eyes all indicated that she was being forced. The orc's thick penis was thrusting in and out of her vaginal opening, the pain almost unbearable. Under the orc king's frenzied thrusting, she appeared to be in extreme agony, her screams sounding so pleasing to the ears of the orc king, Kol. The huge scrotum slapped against the woman's lower body with a slapping sound, and with each withdrawal of the green penis, fresh red flesh was always pulled out. The woman's cries were futile. The orc's terrifying genitals and the high-level warrior's stamina combined to give the woman either extreme pain or extreme pleasure. And clearly, this woman was not one of those legendary races, but just an ordinary human.

Cole's madness was palpable; his erect penis, hard as iron, pounded deep into the woman's vagina, each thrust eliciting screams from her. It was a miracle she hadn't fainted. Only her eyes, filled with a deep-seated hatred, were fixed on his face. In her icy blue eyes, a white battle flag was faintly reflected—the most painful scar in the orc's heart.

Cole's rugged face was etched with rage, his eyes bloodshot. He stopped thrusting, drew his sword, and slashed down. The woman's contorted face rolled to the ground, her long, jet-black hair spreading out among the fallen leaves. A gentle breeze stirred, revealing her eyes, fixed on the distant, nascent city, yet already brimming with murderous intent.

Cole kicked the woman's headless body aside, his two-meter-tall frame rising upright, his face filled with hatred as he stared eastward at the city-state that had been the greatest obstacle to the orcs.

His rage burned relentlessly, his roars echoing through the forest. The distant wind rustled the leaves, providing accompaniment to his howls. The orcs present clearly felt the king's fury in his roars, their eyes fixed on the east, as if they wanted to break free of the forest's barrier and raze that distant city-state to the ground.

In fact, the orc king had seen such people more than once. On orcish territory, even facing the orcs' slaughter, they still glared at all their enemies with eyes like knives, even those captured. Their silent hatred—was this the hatred between two races passed down through generations?

Cole's heavy breathing echoed through the forest. Looking up at the sky, his wild face was dappled with sunlight. Through the dense canopy of the forest, the sun shone only faintly, yet its light was still blinding.

"Bury that woman,"

Cole said after a while, looking at the headless corpse on the ground. Then he glanced at the still-living woman.

"Kill them all."

The White Rose was crafted from fluorite, a common material on the continent. In the sunlight, it shimmered, beautiful and captivating. However, the scattered crimson spots within the city, and the heavily armored warriors standing like statues on the city walls, spoke of another side of this city. Shouts echoed from the military camps outside the city, and battle flags fluttered fiercely in the sunlight, telling ancient tales.

The White Rose, backed by the Lan River, faced the southern plains, a battlefield. Whenever the orcs attacked, the White Rose's black-armored knights would don their heavy armor, take up their lances, and wait silently before the Lan River. The White Rose's sturdiness could withstand the orcs' attacks. When the orcs were exhausted, the black-armored knights would raise their battle flags, transforming into a torrent, rising from the Lan River and charging along the White Rose's main road. Along the way, friend or foe, any obstacle in their path would be torn to shreds.

The charging knights, their hooves pounding the orcs' courage, their white rose banners raised high, glaringly bright in the black torrent, inflicted the greatest damage on the orcs, tearing their ranks apart before charging again.

This was the White Rose's greatest asset, and also the orcs' deepest wound.

The White Rose was peaceful. The city's soldiers, atop high towers, watched the forest, investigating any clues. Even at night, though visibility was poor, many nimble scouts were sent out to monitor everything in the forest.

The White Rose's king, Leiser, his golden hair striking in the sunlight, always wore his silver armor. The armor was plain, but incredibly heavy, often clattering with each step. He sat in his lord's mansion, engrossed in reviewing documents. All was peaceful within the city.

But, in a corner of the White Rose... A man sat in a dimly lit room, two women kneeling before him, their sexy lips licking his large genitals. All three were naked, and the two women were exceptionally beautiful. Their pink tongues licked the man's penis, the women reveling in the heat of his touch. Finally, a white-haired woman, her red lips parted, began to suck and swallow the man's large, purplish glans. A black-haired woman climbed between the man's spread legs and began to suck on his large scrotum. The room filled with lewd sounds. The man enjoyed the pleasure, but what pleased him even more was the blonde woman before him.

She was beautiful, her wheat-colored skin adding a touch of wildness. Bound and with her legs spread wide, she was emitting melodious moans. The two women stimulated her vagina and anus, their white fingers caressing her chocolate-like skin, while her two orifices were also stimulated by the women's thrusting. Gushes of lustful fluid gushed out, and her beautiful eyes were filled with anger, but it was all in vain. Having already lost her virginity to the man, she felt the pleasure beneath her, yet tears involuntarily streamed down her face.

Her name was Kaman, a knight. In the White Rose, which knightly order was the most powerful? Only the Black Armor Knights. She was a squad leader of the Black Armor Knights, yet she never imagined that someone would imprison and humiliate her like this, even branding her buttocks with a slave emblem—an emblem only worn against non-human races.

Her beauty had attracted the man's attention. The man was the prince of the White Rose, but his reputation was never good. Compared to his father, who was hailed as the son of war, this guy was a complete idiot. Yes, the reputation of the Rose Prince as an idiot was universally acknowledged. Everyone in the city knew it, and everyone wanted to flush him down the toilet.

As for Kaman, the Black-Armored Knight, a revered figure within the White Rose Clan, she was now suffering this torture. Stimulated alternately by the hands of two women, her pleasure was tinged with an intense sense of shame. Her beautiful body trembled slightly with pleasure, her voice filled with pleading, but it was all in vain.

At some point, Kaman was bound and thrown into a cell. No one noticed the madness in her eyes.

Three years is a very short time for long-lived races, but for humans and orcs, it's enough. Perhaps it's because life is short that hatred is more easily passed down from generation to generation. White Rose is unusually complacent because the orcs haven't attacked once in these three years.

The reason is simple: Cole became the Orc King. For three years, Cole repeatedly conquered other orc tribes, staining their lands with blood. Finally, a year ago, he became the Orc King, the true king, and all orcs obeyed his commands.

White Rose, without war for three years, is developing rapidly. However, although the weapons of the soldiers in the city are constantly being upgraded, their eyes seem to lack something compared to before.

Tonight, dark clouds obscure the already dim crescent moon. Black-clad scouts crouch on the ground, the dense bushes providing excellent cover. Only their eyes are visible, fixed on the towering trees of the forest. They constantly monitor the forest, preventing any orcs from emerging.

Deep within the forest, Cole sneers silently laugh.

The scouts' corpses lay silently in the bushes, each agile and strong orc with a clear bloodlust in their eyes, yet their figures were silent, like ghosts.

Few orcs emerged, but each carried a sharp killing intent. This two-hundred-man force cleared the scouts before issuing orders. Cole, clad in well-fitting armor, raised his heavy sword high. The

fully equipped orc legion, like a green tide, emerged from the sea of trees, each eye filled with hysterical madness. However, the distant city-state remained oblivious.

In the city lord's mansion late at night, Leather stood by the window. Looking up, a black raven flew past and landed on his shoulder. Leather stared intently at the raven; his face was handsome, with a slight stubble, a tall stature, and silver armor.

Leather looked deeply at the raven, his eyes filled with growing horror.

Watching the crows fly away, Leiser's tall figure leaped out of the window, displaying the speed of a high-ranking warrior. As he charged, his battle aura shimmered, creating sonic booms.

In the White Rose Plaza, a large blue bell hung there, but the dust on its surface indicated how long it had been since it had been rung. Leiser's armor gleamed faintly, and the deep, resonant tolling of the bell rang out. Instantly, the faint flames from the various White Rose camps stained the sky red.

Soldiers awoke with a start, quickly donned their armor, grabbed their weapons, and formed ranks in the plaza. The crisp sound of iron boots striking the ground rang out.

Some soldiers carried shields, some carried bows, and many more were swordsmen in armor, wielding longswords. From the mage tower, mages in various robes and carrying staves unleashed their spells and began marching towards the plaza. In less than half an hour, all the soldiers and mages in the city, except for those guarding the city, had gathered in the plaza, which was now packed with people. All were watching the city lord on the high platform.

"I just received news," Leather said in a deep voice.

"A large number of orcs have gathered and left the Tree Sea. I don't know the exact number, but I can say at least two hundred thousand."

Looking at the white rose banner hanging high before him, Leather's voice was icy.

"At least two hundred thousand, the exact number could be ten times, or even twenty times. This is different from their previous raids. Tonight is the night of war."

"We will face the orcs' onslaught head-on, for the orcs have a leader."

"Many of us will die, but the orcs will die too. Remember the White Rose's motto?"

"Backed by the Lan River, facing the sky. Never to perish. Never to fall." The soldiers' shouts echoed throughout the White Rose city. The night wind was slightly cold, but the warriors' blood was hot. The roar of one hundred thousand men carried on the night breeze. The entire city of White Rose gleamed with a cold light. The Lan River behind them still surged. The black-armored knights were the first to depart, heading south. The sound of hooves shook the entire city.

On the city walls, warriors stood atop the walls, shields held high. Behind them, every ten meters, two archers stood, and every fifty meters, a mage. Swordsmen prepared stones and giant logs. On the towers, archers and mages adjusted their positions.

The city gates were tightly shut. Behind the heavy doors hung a white banner embroidered with a spiked shield. Below the banner, rows of strong soldiers stood behind the gates, their shields linked together by interlocking clasps, forming walls of shields. Above these semi-sloping shield walls, sharp, gleaming spears protruded, and behind them, archers stood poised to fire. Behind the gates stood a massive war chariot covered in spikes.

The White Rose, this war fortress, was fully activated. Iron nails were scattered across the plain before the walls, the moat's mechanisms were activated, and the underwater roared as countless sharp spearheads filled the depths. On the walls, thanks to alchemy, javelins protruded, ready to be launched with terrifying force at the command, becoming deadly weapons.

The alchemists produced arrows, and the archers on the city walls took them, aiming at the open ground before them. Arrows whistled as they pierced the earth, landing neatly in formation.

On the vast plain before the city walls, faint lights first appeared, then grew brighter, and after ten minutes, that area emitted a soft glow, illuminating the distant plain. Leather stood atop the city wall, his deep eyes fixed on the distant plain, fearing the arrival of the orc army. Yet, he also longed to see the orc army, for the wait was unbearable.

The first great battle between the White Rose and the orcs was about to begin. Meanwhile, on the other side of the White Rose, the city lord's son was passionately riding a beautiful woman. The woman's moans were filled with satisfaction, while on the other side, the cries of other women echoed.

Five beautiful women knelt on the ground, black collars around their necks, tied to pillars. Metal chastity belts clung to their groins. Behind them, a naked woman lashed their snow-white bodies with a leather whip, leaving distinct red welts.

The man thrust into the women, their moans and the feeling of fullness in their groins mingling with the anal plug and the sloshing of fluids in their abdomens as they struggled to clench their anuses. A slight throbbing pain in their groins, the large penis rubbing against their vaginal walls, stimulating the flow of fluids in their intestines and the anal plug. The women desperately wanted to expel the plug, to release the slow flow of fluids from their anuses. But they knew that doing so would bring excruciating punishment.

But sometimes, the body truly goes out of control. An overly tense woman spurted a stream of water from her urethra, her mind went blank, the anal plug suddenly slipped off, and her slightly swollen abdomen, as if deflated, quickly sank in, releasing a foul stench.

She was still enjoying the dual pleasure of orgasm and excretion when the man cursed.

The woman, just regaining her senses and before she could even kneel, was dragged to the other side of the room by two beautiful female slaves. On that side, a thick iron rod, about the thickness of a fist, was mounted on the wall. The limp woman, upon touching the cold iron rod, suddenly struggled violently, but to no avail. Her anus, still expelling fluid, was directly against the tip of the iron rod.

"Ahhh~ it hurts~" The woman's anus was still slightly open, but the iron rod was forcefully pushed into her rectum. The woman tried to struggle, but a line of scarlet blood flowed down her thigh. The uneven patterns on the iron rod, as it was slowly pushed in, gradually stretched open her anus, bringing her even greater pain. She cried out weakly, but dared not struggle, for the more she moved, the more it hurt. She could only helplessly and humiliatingly accept this cold, thick iron rod. Two latches were attached to the rod; after the rod had been pushed in twenty centimeters, the latches touched her two long, slender legs.

With a "click," two locks fastened to her thighs, completely binding her to the iron bar. The cold iron bar asserted its presence in her anus, while the two women took out two vines. With a gentle flick of the iron bar, the thick bar began to spin. The woman's screams grew even more piercing; the patterns on the iron bar, as it spun, became an undeniable form of torture. The woman cried out, and crimson and pale yellow fluids mingled on the floor from her inner thighs. The vines inflicted excruciating pain on her snow-white body, yet she had to endure the pain, supporting her full breasts and thrusting her chest forward to receive the lashes. The iron bar in her anus and the vines on her chest quickly caused her to faint, her entire body limp and hanging down. With her thighs bound, she could only bend over, her long hair hanging to the ground… As dawn broke, the edge of the plain suddenly seemed to rise higher. Seeing this, Leather's eyes widened slightly.

Orcs—the entire plain was filled with orcs? Reiser couldn't believe his eyes. Looking towards the sea of trees directly opposite White Rose, all he saw were orcs? In the distance, the green plains seemed a bit too high, and only the orcs had green skin. Reiser's throat went dry. His right hand gripped the hilt of his sword. His mouth was parched, and he quickly pulled over a scout.

"Quickly, you… no, all of you scouts. Mount your warhorses and head south." Cold sweat beaded on Reiser's forehead, his voice trembling.

"Go south. Those nineteen city-states, tell them to send men immediately. Tell them many orcs are attacking the city. Yes, many orcs. If they don't send reinforcements, White Rose won't hold. Remember, you must make them send troops."

The scout immediately understood the gravity of the situation, nodded, and went down from the city wall. On the city wall, Reiser watched the black-clad scout's retreating figure. He couldn't help but call out again.

"We must get them to send reinforcements!!!"

Leather knew his panic might demoralize the defending soldiers, but there was nothing he could do. If the orcs actually reached the city walls, he and his soldiers would surely lose heart.

In the distance, orcs marched forward in neat rows, while Cole watched the White Rose city gleaming in the morning light. The fire of hatred in his eyes burned ever brighter. In truth, all the other orcs felt the same way; the White Rose, this city-state, was a thorn in their hearts.

Cole's disheveled hair danced in the wind. He stared at the distant city, his eyes filled with coldness, and he murmured to himself,

"No matter what, White Rose, we must pull out this blade." He silently added to himself. "This blade

is too close to the orcs' necks..." Heavy footsteps echoed around Cole, reverberating across the plain. On the other side of the plain, atop the White Rose city walls, soldiers gripped their weapons.

The orcs marched swiftly, the walls of White Rose appearing ever higher to them, but this did nothing to deter them. Their green faces were contorted with rage, their eyes burning with bloodlust as they stared at the shield walls atop the city walls. The steel-clad shields obscured their view, but years of hatred kept their eyes fixed on the proud figure atop White Rose.

At this moment, Leather's breathing grew heavy as he looked down at the orcs below. The orderly ranks of the troops, though most possessed only a single weapon and lacked armor, stretched endlessly for thousands of meters below the walls. Leather couldn't count them all. He only knew that below the walls were orc warriors, his golden hair still gleaming. His gaze was fixed on the distant crimson banner. Unlike White Rose, where each legion carried a banner, the orcs carried only one. Beneath that blood-red banner stood Cole in full armor. Though separated by distance, they stared at each other, both sensing the other's murderous intent.

The orcs stopped a kilometer away. Their weapons gleamed coldly in the sunlight, their formations silent and menacing. Cole stood at the forefront, his sword resting lightly on the ground. A powerful voice rang out.

"Lord Leather, do you think your White Rose can hold out against the orc army?"

"I believe in the soldiers of White Rose!" Leather replied, his eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

"The orcs have come out in full force, haven't they? In other words, if we wipe you out, the orcs will be at our mercy."

"That depends on whether you can hold out." Cole kicked his leg dismissively.

"White Rose, since you dare to stand here, you can certainly hold out."

"I hope you regret it before we raze this place to the ground." Cole's white teeth flashed, radiating an unspeakable chill.

"Once the city falls, you know what will happen."

"White Rose, not a single tile will remain."

Leather suppressed the anger and regret in his eyes, but his voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Cole, are you really going to go this far?"

Cole gripped his sword upon hearing this. After a moment, he spoke.

"Is there any possibility of letting you go? Behind you, across the Lan River, lies the Southern Plains, the best land. We can cultivate there, instead of raiding the south every year due to famine. But all of this requires a bloodbath to stain this city red. More importantly, isn't the hatred between the orcs and the White Roses deep enough?"

Cole raised his sword high, its sharp blade gleaming in the sunlight.

"You're right about coming here today. Behind me are all the orcs. Since they're here, there are only two outcomes: the city falls and they're slaughtered, or the orcs are at your mercy from now on."

The madness in Cole's eyes mirrored the madness of the orcs behind him. All of this, along with Cole's roar, echoed throughout the city.

"This is a gamble. If we win, the orcs will have the right to stay on the southern plains. If we lose, the orcs can only say they did their best. They won't regret it either, because our charge is only for a better future."

Leather stood on the city wall, listening to Cole's roar, a cold smile on his face.

"I don't care about your gamble. I only know that if it's hatred, then let's fight."

Cole looked up at the silver figure, at the tightly closed gates of White Rose. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with mockery, and his rugged face slowly darkened in the sunlight.

"Charge!"

Behind Cole, three formations slowly advanced, not quickly, but the heavy wooden shields they carried could withstand arrows falling from above. When the shields were linked together, they formed a huge plank that could be laid across the moat, creating a wooden bridge. They moved slowly, but with an overwhelming sense of pressure. The archers on the city wall drew their bows, aiming at the crowd below, awaiting Leather's command.

Looking at the orcs' orderly formation and their shields raised high, the battle-hardened veteran began to give orders.

"Archers, aim lower! Ignore the orcs, aim for the moat!"

Meanwhile, the orc captain, seeing they were within range of the arrows, gave the order, and all the orcs scattered, carrying their shields and charging forward at top speed. But why wasn't there the sound of arrows piercing the air? The orc captain's poor brain capacity couldn't grasp this question; he continued charging forward, dumbfounded.

Reaching the moat, before the shields could even be joined together, a dense swarm of arrows rained down from the sky like locusts. The strong bowstrings snapped crisply, and orcs without shields fell to the ground, arrows lodged in their bodies. But many more orcs remained, now holding their shields. The heavy, massive shields could easily protect two or three people; one person held the shield while the others connected them, forming a makeshift bridge.

Within the White Rose's castle tower, barely audible incantations echoed, followed by fireballs and wind blades shooting from the tower's windows. The fireballs struck the shields precisely, causing explosive bursts that ignited the wooden shields... Both Leather and Cole knew that the war had only just begun.

Night was approaching, the city walls were brightly lit, but the battle continued. The archers' hands trembled slightly, yet they still diligently aimed at the orcs below. There were many orcs below; any arrow could easily hit its mark, but after a day of continuous drawing of their bows, the archers' arms were weak. The orcs, on the other hand, were even more frenzied; green corpses piled up beneath the walls, turning the moat red. But the most suffering were the shield bearers holding the fort at the walls. During the day's fierce fighting and madness, the orcs had repeatedly scaled the walls, and the shield bearers had faced the orcish charges head-on, using their shields to encircle and trap them. After a day of intense fighting, even the steel tower shields were deformed. As for the shield bearers, they braced themselves against the orcs' naturally strong physiques. Each swing of the orcs' battle axes and heavy hammers carried immense force, and one shield bearer after another fell on the city walls, only to be immediately replaced by another. Their spears were stained with blood, indistinguishable from sweat in their hands.

Even in the darkness, the orcs' frenzy remained unchanged. However, Reiser carefully considered how many men had already fallen on his side. Nearly fifteen thousand shield bearers, but the orc corpses below the city were far more numerous than he could count. The moat was completely useless, filled with orc bodies. The city gates were somewhat loosened by the orcs' assault, so the legion at the gate couldn't move. The

black-armored knights couldn't charge recklessly either. Although Reiser knew that the cavalry had waited along the Lan River for a whole day, seeing the endless orcs in the darkness, the black-armored knights were completely unable to charge. Once they charged in, they were completely exhausted, unable to move. The mages were utterly drained, and the alchemists were frantically repairing the soldiers' weapons and armor in the darkness. One by one, the wounded were carried away, but the vast majority succumbed to their injuries.

Tears welled in Leiser's eyes, but he knew the city was groaning, its blood seemingly bathing White Rose, turning it into a blood-stained city.

The pale moonlight shone on White Rose's city, its flickering lights like faint lamps in the darkness. Leiser sat behind the city wall, his back against its cold surface, looking at the young swordsman standing beside him. He sighed.

"White Rose, built ninety-two years ago, faces the northern horizon, backed by the Lan River, and guarded by the Sea of Trees to the west, sealing off the orcs—that is the meaning of this city. It has been here, fulfilling this duty for ninety-two years. I once thought it would stand here for a thousand years, ten thousand years, the banner of White Rose forever fluttering in the wind. But I never imagined it would crumble so quickly." Leiser's voice echoed between the city walls.

"I don't think I was wrong, but I'm sorry to you all. I'm afraid this city will perish with us."

The Lan River continued to proclaim its existence with the sound of flowing water, but the knights, silently mounted on their warhorses, even in the dead of night, were watching the lights of the city lord's mansion. They were waiting for the lights to flash, for that would be the moment they charged. An eerie silence hung in the air. They didn't know why the signal was delayed. They rested here, maintaining peak condition, and then, on horseback, charged down the main road. Young men and women cheered along the roadside, and the elderly rejoiced. When they returned in triumph, war songs would resound throughout the city, accompanying the sound of their hooves in a three-day celebration. The city lord would stand on a high platform, watching their return.

"Which legion do you think is the best?" Leiser asked, taking a bite of his steamed bun.

"...The Thorn Shield Wall, or the First Archers." The boy's voice was a little hoarse. The Thorn Shield Wall was a legion of shield-bearers; only the strong and cooperative could enter. Now, the Thorn Shield Wall stood silently below the city walls, its steel shields gleaming coldly in the night. The archers of the First Archers, meanwhile, were resting unceremoniously on the city wall.

Leiser was surprised by this answer and couldn't help but ask.

"Don't you want to join the Black Armor Knights?"

"Black Armor? We all call them Black Dogs." The boy chuckled.

"They're strong, but they don't participate in the most costly siege battles. Instead, they rush at the enemy like dogs gnawing on a bone at the end, reaping the biggest credit. What good is their fighting strength? Here, they're practically useless. They just stay by the Lan River and run along the main road..."

Leiser fell into an eerie silence. He hadn't imagined that the steel knights he had personally forged would be seen this way by the soldiers. If it were before, he would have laughed it off. Knights, how could they defend a city? But now, looking at the city walls, soldiers were coming and going, carrying corpses one after another. During the day, they had stood full of energy on the walls, guarding them, but now they were cold corpses. However, those shield bearers still standing on the walls, one shield bearer died, another took his shield, and so on, one by one, they pushed the orcs off the walls. Arrows left wounds on the orcs' bodies, preventing them from climbing back up. Spears pierced and thrust, and with each swing of the sword, it was either themselves or the enemy who died. They were the main force defending the city. As for the black-armored knights, it seemed that was really the case; along the Lan River, they just needed to run along the main road… Inside the room, the man, unusually, wore a full suit of scarlet armor, holding a short sword, which he swung a few times before throwing it away. The beautiful women in the room remained expressionless on his handsome face.

“You may leave.” The scarlet armor fit him perfectly, a full suit of heavy armor, with a cold helmet on his head, only the veil was still on.

“Prince, why?” one of the women asked.

Renault turned around, his tall figure standing out conspicuously in the room.

“Why? Because I am a prince. This city is mine.”

With each footstep, Renault's figure receded into the distance. His scarlet cloak billowed in the wind, and a tower shield appeared in his hand. The shield was covered in sharp barbs; the heavy iron block felt as light as a book in his hands. A greatsword rested at his waist.

The heavy footsteps broke the silence of White Rose. The soldiers in the city stared in astonishment at the man in red armor. Even though he looked exactly like them, the soldiers couldn't believe this was their prince. Only a few veterans in the city looked at him, their eyes welling with tears.

Renault walked up to his father, looking down at him. After a moment, he sneered.

"You look quite different now,"

Leather said, looking at his child with the same cold smile as before, exuding a fierce killing intent. He couldn't help but mutter in a low voice,

"Sorry, kid, what you said makes me want to slam you to your death on a woman's belly."

Renault curled his lip, looking at the pile of orc corpses below the city. Despite his shock, he still gave Leather a reply.

"Not bad with words, but if you think you can talk them all back, I don't mind kicking you off. Even if it might dirty my feet."

On the city wall, Renault walked to the side, staring at the orc camp outside. Meanwhile, on the other side, a slight smile appeared on Leather's face, a strange warmth welling up inside him.

The night wind howled past, and dawn broke in the blink of an eye. Renault, shield in hand, stood firmly against the city wall, slamming green orcs down with each blow. The towering wall ensured their bones would break upon impact. The shield bearers on the flanks, seemingly inspired by Renault, held their ground with extraordinary tenacity. On the city walls, the white rose banners fluttered in the wind, and the roars of warriors echoed across the towering walls. Despite being exhausted from five days of continuous fighting, the soldiers managed to suppress the orcs surging down like a tide. Below the towering walls, the corpses of green orcs rotted and stank under the scorching sun, the stench assaulting both sides, but to no avail. The city gates had been breached, and Leather, leading his shield-armored legion, was firmly blocking them. Above was the battlefield, while below the city walls lay a scene of carnage. Spearmen mechanically wielded their spears, facing a formidable shield wall of armored soldiers. This continuous shield wall confronted the green torrent pouring through the city gates. The orcs thronged the gates, each wave of impact piercing the massive steel shields, the powerful force striking the shield-bearers' bodies, many drawing crimson blood from their mouths. Yet, they remained behind the shields, using their bodies to brace them. The shields' bases were wedged into cracks in the stone bricks, their bodies pressed against the shields. Even when the shields were deformed, they did not retreat an inch. As one shield was about to break, another intact shield would be passed up, a perfect coordination that firmly protected the spearmen and archers behind them.

Leiser had never imagined just how terrifying this legion, known as the Thorn Shield Wall, truly was. This resilience, standing at the city gate, was like another, even more impregnable, city gate. The frenzied orcs charged relentlessly, but wave after wave of force was blocked, even though their own casualties were heavy. These shield bearers, the most inconspicuous figures on the battlefield, were the most impregnable walls.

More and more enemies surged up the city walls. There was no way around it; the orcs' green skin, though vulnerable beneath Renault's shield, was endless. One by one, shield bearers were dragged off the walls, and gradually, the number of humans on the walls dwindled.

Renault's crimson armor was covered in wounds. He simply put down his shield, gripped his greatsword, and stood in the center of the city walls, looking at the hatred in the eyes of each orc. The continuous fighting had left him exhausted. Panting heavily, his face slightly pale, he looked at the orcs.

"Excuse me, where did you get your greenskins? Did your dad just play with leaves and grass when he was bored? Or did your mother masturbate with leaves? Ugh~ Holy crap, I'm just asking."

Enraged by Renault's verbal barrage, the orc's roar echoed throughout the city. Renault's sword danced, each strike taking a life. But he was exhausted; the sword, usually so light, felt incredibly heavy. He leaned against the flagpole. His tall figure slid down the flagpole, settling down beneath it, leaning against it to avoid collapsing. He dazedly looked up.

The sky was azure, the white flag stained with blood, a glaring red. But at least it was still flying. It reminded him of his childhood, when his father pointed at the flag and said,

"As long as the flag flies, the White Rose will never fall."

Thinking of that, Renault smiled bitterly.

"But it still fell, didn't it?"

The flag fluttered in the wind, but the crimson figure remained silently leaning against the flagpole. The despair in their eyes couldn't be concealed by death.

The orcs still wanted to charge forward. As they were hacking Renault's body to pieces, Cole's voice rang out.

"Enter the city."

The orcs descended from the city walls, soon leaving only Cole.

Cole looked at Renault's body, leaning against the flagpole, the sunlight quietly falling on his cold armor. Cole bent down, then raised his sword. He turned and left.

The flag, now without its rope, slowly drifted down, draping Renault over the city steps, and Cole's voice echoed softly.

"True warriors deserve respect."

Leather watched the green torrent descending from the city walls, two streams of tears rolling down his dust-covered face. A roar filled with anguish escaped his lips.

Although he had long considered this outcome, facing it in person was still unbearably painful. The orcs descending meant the deaths of his children. Seeing the orcs increasing in number, Leather threw a golden sphere, which exploded in mid-air, sending up a plume of crimson smoke.

Seeing the smoke, the knights on the banks of the distant Lan River, who had long been patient, spurred their warhorses forward, lances tucked under their arms, transforming into a steel torrent.

Below the city walls, Leather, his longsword slashing wildly, his golden hair stained with blood, charged into the orcs. The soldiers forming the shield wall in front of him drew their swords, hacking and slashing at the orcs around them. A fierce battle ensued; in close combat, the orcs' strong bodies gave them a natural advantage. The soldiers were difficult to defeat, but they could hold out for a while.

The black-armored knights moved swiftly, the thunderous hooves echoing throughout White Rose, the ground trembling slightly beneath their iron hooves. They charged straight towards the city gate along the straight main road, but the silver figure inside made them pause.

Leather roared angrily,

"Charge!"

The lead knight took a deep breath. With lances raised again, a torrent of steel surged straight into the orcs. The powerful impact sent orcs flying one after another, and the first rank of knights scattered to the side. Then, the second rank of knights, lances raised high, charged fiercely into the orc horde… However, the city was ultimately too narrow, and there were too many orcs. One knight after another fell, while orcs from outside swarmed in. The desperate knights repeatedly hacked at the orcs, but to no avail. For every one they killed, a second or a third would appear.

Cole looked at the silver-armored figure lying on the ground, sent flying by the force of the warhorse's charge, and couldn't help but sigh.

White Rose had finally fallen. Green orcs broke into people's homes, slaughtering them indiscriminately. By nightfall, White Rose had become Blood Rose. Fortunately, the vast majority of White Rose's inhabitants had already migrated south.

Under the cover of night, White Rose was brightly lit, but only green orcs were there, frantically raping the women of the city. The entire city echoed with the screams of women.

At the city gate, the pale moonlight spilled onto the ground, and amidst the billowing black mist, a massive black gate opened, releasing a torrent of despair and death. As the black mist surged, the Lan River churned, fear and death howling, heralding the arrival of night.

After a long while, a tall warrior in silver armor emerged, his once-golden hair now dull and lifeless, his face gaunt, his eyes dark and hollow, yet burning with a ghostly blue flame. He roared in defiance, and behind him, warhorses and black-armored knights emerged from the gate. Though clad in armor and masked, their dark eye sockets and blue flames mirrored the silver-armored warrior's. More men emerged from the black gate: spearmen, archers, swordsmen, mages, and shield bearers wielding bone shields. Until the black gate closed, the silver figure searched among the undead, removing the masks of knights one by one, but the crimson figure remained elusive.

"Roar!" the undead, Leather, roared in despair. He staggered up the city wall.

Above, the moonlight shone brightly, making the already white banner even more beautiful, yet Leather tossed aside the banner he had cherished in life. Beneath the banner, crimson armor sat silently beside the flagpole, moonlight illuminating his pale face. His golden hair gleamed in the moonlight, but his blue eyes were devoid of light.

Leather's withered hand gently stroked his cheek, the fire of his soul flickering in his eyes. Finally, he gently laid him flat on the ground. He picked up the rose banner stained with Renault's blood and leaped off the city wall.

The thunderous sound of hooves echoed through the White Rose, accompanied by the roars of the undead and the slicing of orcs' throats by sharp blades. The warhorses slew no sound, yet their hooves proclaimed their victory. The knights charged relentlessly, claiming orc lives, yet the wounds inflicted by the orcs healed without a trace of blood, a flash of black mist concealing their healing. Leather, mounted on his warhorse, simply raised a black lance high, its tip bearing the banner of the White Rose fluttering in the night wind. His horse galloped onward, the banner waving through the city's streets and alleys… The orcs fled in terror, while the undead warriors pursued them for a hundred miles before automatically returning to the White Rose… The morning sun shone on the withered faces of the undead, and in the wind, the scarlet banner rose against the sunlight.

From that day forward, the White Rose would never fall. Whenever the enemy attacks, a group of undead knights always charge towards the city gate along the main road. They are immortal, indestructible, forever guarding the White Rose.

[To be continued]

(26833 bytes)

URL 1:https://www.sex3p.com/htmlBlog/178656.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=178656&aspx=1

Last access time:

Previous Page : A fleeting moment of unparalleled beauty

Next Page : Artificial planet

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

The Legend of White Rose

comment Open a new window to view comments