At the same moment when Brendel and his men were being attacked, the defense line which the Kirrlutz were in charge of was pelted with rain and darkness, Sir Hawthorne was riding through the woodlands on his Battle Dragon with the monk soldiers. “Damn it.” He cursed quietly. “How can these Aouine people even stand this weather, experiencing it once is already enough for us!” The monk soldiers laughed softly, Hawthorne who was from the warm northern foothills of the Kirrlutz Manoran Mountains found the damp and coldness of this time of the year in Ampere Seale very uncomfortable.
The Battle Drake beneath the saddle stood upright at over three meters tall and the iron armor on its body weighed half a ton. It was the most common mount for heavy cavalrymen of this era. The ground seemed to tremble slightly with each step it took, leaving a mud print that was several inches deep in the muddy woodland.
(Missing sentences, should double check) After the fleet stopped attacking, it was attacked by strange creatures on its way back. But the Dragon Cavalry of Aouine’s Northern Coalition Army did not find a trace of this frigate in the relevant air route, so they sent out their ground troops.
Hawthorne would bet that the frigate had crashed, and the wreckage of a burning battleship did appear before the line of men who were walking through the forest. The once formidable war machine was now only a wreckage with broken masts and wind sails scattered all over the place, a number of ropes hanging on the nearby tree branches.
This is the frigate that was reported to have been attacked and had crashed. What a massive thing. Hawthorne could not help but think.
“Oh my god, it’s the Bull Shark!” Someone recognized the frigate and shouted in surprise, “Who on earth damaged it like this.”
“I think we’ll find out real soon.” Sir Hawthorne suddenly raised his head and drew his longsword, “There are enemies, let’s prepare for battle.”
Following his roar, everyone saw a pink monster crawling out of the wreckage of the battleship. The creature climbed up the fallen mast and soon reached the broken area. It was a giant monster that looked like both a bat and a humanoid creature. It was about two to three meters tall, had more developed forelimbs than hindlimbs, and muscular gnarled upper arms. A bull-like head grew out of its neck and it even had a nose ring.
“It’s a Devil, a Brute Devil!” Someone with a sharp eyesight called out the name of this monster at a glance. The Devils were one of the sworn enemies of the Holy Cathedral of Fire, the monk soldiers had seen images of this Devil in various scriptures and canonical texts before.
“Spread out!” Sir Hawthorne reacted quicker than the others.
The Brute Devils were the main air force of the Sulfur River, juvenile Brute Devils had the strength of the Silver Peak rank and adults had the strength of the early Gold rank. Long horns grew out of the Brute Devi
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