Ashen Dragon-Chapter 379 - 303: The Last Hero

Chapter 379: Chapter 303: The Last Hero

Count Jacob did not sit idly by. With the agility of a warrior and powerful dynamic vision, he weaved through the bombardment, evading shell after shell.

However, he knew this was not the end.

Count Jacob looked up into the distance, his eyes narrowing as if piercing through the billowing smoke.

For months, through numerous bloody battles costing the lives of tens of thousands, he had thoroughly grasped the Ashen Legion’s “Triple Axe” tactics.

First, bombard with cannons, then sweep with wyverns, and finally, mop up with infantry and cavalry ground forces.

“Roar——”

Sure enough, a long dragon’s roar sounded.

A row of chaotic black shadows appeared on the horizon, rolling in like storm clouds, pressing toward Fayol City.

Count Jacob roared:

“Wyverns! Be wary of the sky!”

But before the soldiers could crawl out from the fortifications, the bipedal wyverns dove onto the city walls.

Chaotic shadows danced, and scorching flames raged along the walls.

Soldiers who failed to evade were set ablaze, struggling constantly, eventually turning into charred corpses.

However, this was just one wave of the assault. After diving through the city, the wyverns ascended again, skillfully making a circuit, preparing to launch the next wave of attacks.

“Spread out! Spread out!”

Count Jacob roared.

The remaining 3,000 soldiers were his last reliance, the most loyal to him and the Northern United Kingdom.

He had endured several such attacks, each one causing heavy losses to his forces.

Yet despite this, Count Jacob was still at a loss.

Any individual would be limited by factors such as background, education, and era. Jacob Rosas was already among the top generals in the North, but in the face of such a cross-era combined land and air assault, he still found no solution.

All he could do was summarize methods to build fortifications and disperse his forces to minimize losses, but he had almost no strategies for a counterattack.

And just these few rounds of shelling and wyvern raids had cost him another precious 500 soldiers.

Count Jacob, full of rage with no outlet, reached out his hand.

“Give me a powerful bow.”

A soldier immediately handed over a black giant bow more than two meters long.

Count Jacob skillfully notched an arrow.

His arm muscles bulged, veins popping out.

Through sheer brute strength honed over countless battles, he fully drew the bow that even orcs struggled to pull.

“Monsters of the Ashen Kingdom!”

“Be buried with my soldiers!”

A piercing whistle tore through the air.

“Whiz——”

The sharp arrow directly pierced a wyvern and the knight on its back simultaneously. The wyvern flapped its wings weakly, wailing as it plummeted to the wilderness.

It even caused several other wyverns behind it to collide, throwing them into disarray in the air.

Count Jacob roared: “Monsters! You will never defeat the Scania people!”

“Shoot them down!”

“Lord Earl!”

But the sheer number of bipedal wyverns was too much. Despite the soldiers shooting arrows in retaliation,

not everyone was as strong a warrior as Count Jacob. The number of wyverns they managed to shoot down was very few.

More arrows fell limply halfway through the air, while the flames spewed by the bipedal wyverns were fatal to the archers.

This was an unequal struggle.

After several more rounds of diving and sweeping, the city walls were engulfed in raging flames, littered with corpses.

Dolores looked at the distant city walls, glanced at the watch on his wrist, and coldly ordered:

“Inform the melee units to prepare for siege combat.”

“Yes, Marshal.”

The subordinate Great Goblin commander quickly responded.

…

Snowflakes fell, drifting down onto the city walls.

Creating a grim atmosphere.

The city walls were deathly silent.

Count Jacob gazed at the advancing Ashen Kingdom army, like a thick wall in the distance. His eyes suddenly sharpened as if he had made a resolution.

“Even if I die… I will die on the glorious battlefield! Prepare my mount!”

“Everyone… attack the city with me!”

“Boom!”

The city gate slowly opened.

Jacob Rosas held high a tattered banner, charging at the forefront on a white steed, followed by 500 knights.

He wanted to die in a charge of glory.

To become a part of the North’s tragic epic, a venerable hero, eternally associating the name Jacob Rosas with valor and loyalty.

The sound of hooves echoed.

Facing the flood of the Kingdom Army, this cavalry force of fewer than 500 seemed like a trickle flowing into the ocean, pathetically feeble.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

Dense gunfire erupted.

The knights following Count Jacob fell one after another. Only Jacob, clad in rare armor, remained charging, as if nothing could stop him.

Soon, he was the only one left, charging alone on the battlefield.

“That is the enemy’s commander!”

“Kill him, and we will be knighted!”

The soldiers of the Ashen Kingdom roared excitedly, waving their blades and spears as they charged toward him.

“Damn, that boss has purple equipment!”

“Go for it! Kill him!”

“Don’t you dare steal my kill!”

The players shouted excitedly, using various professional tactics, throwing spells, hidden weapons, and even miscellaneous objects at him recklessly.

Facing the enemies surging like a tide, Count Jacob sneered coldly, roaring ferociously:

“You cannot defeat me!”

“You will never make a true Scania warrior surrender!”

“Maybe I will die here today, but my unyielding soul will wander this land. I will become——your lifelong nightmare!”

“Come, come——”

His voice suddenly halted, his gaze became a bit slow, and his eyes glowed red.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Count Jacob dismounted like a marionette, raising his hands, even voluntarily removing his armor.

Did he… surrender?

“Forget everything else, grab the gear!”

The players rushed forward, fearing the precious treasure would be taken, turning the scene chaotic.

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“Bang!”

A sudden gunshot rang out.

A bloody hole appeared on Count Jacob’s forehead.

His expression suddenly twisted in pain.

People quickly turned their heads, seeing a gaunt human holding a steel rifle, its barrel slightly smoking, and the hand holding it trembling——on his neck was the mark of a serf.

More gunshots followed along with overwhelming spells, drowning the Earl.

Finally, his tenacious body, covered in wounds, slowly fell backward.

And the players swarmed like dogs fighting over scraps, with Jacob Rosas’ precious relics becoming the focus of their frenzy.

“Damn, the NPC stole the kill!”

“It’s that guy again?”

“Such damn luck.”

“Wait, quick, grab the gear!!”

The last hero of the North died this way.

…

A spatial ripple appeared, and the Ogre Archmage, holding a magic wand, appeared expressionlessly beside the Military Records Officer.

“Lord Ramp?!”

“What… what are your orders?”

Facing the sudden arrival of the distinguished visitor, the Military Records Officer spoke tremblingly, almost dropping his pen.

“Record my words.”

“In the year 1786 of the Third Era, Jacob Rosas, a remnant of the Northern United Kingdom, surrendered to the Kingdom but was beaten to death by enraged serfs during the process.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“I will record your words exactly. Every word you speak is the absolute truth.”

Jacob Rosas was wrong about one thing——

History is always written by the victors.

Not the mourners.