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Chapter 152 – Breaking Dawn (5)

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============= Citizens of Firbugh’s POV ==============

The Year of Bustling Summer Leaves and Flowers. This year marked the first Black Rose War.

The regions near Karsuk were invaded and defeated by Madara, while Vieiro went into immediate alert. When the side flanks of the White-mane army were crushed, the Grinoires region went into a state of shock and withdrew themselves into their cities.

The Black Lord Incirsta marched his undead armies straight into Aouine’s territory, and Randner was in grave danger.

The news of Aouine’s defeat was not unexpected, but citizens of Bucce and the regions citizens could not help but ask:

‘Where is Aouine’s Army?’

‘Where is the sight of our victory?’

‘Where are our glory and honor?’

The reply came in the form of a paper stating that Bucce’s region no longer belonged to the Aouine kingdom and there would be no aid provided.

Silence came after that.

But a voice emerged from this silence, as though it was just there to answer the cries for help.

Within Fortress Riedon.

A flame that lit up the darkness.

The huge number of refugees broke through Medes and Ladios’s siege under his command, and slew Incirsta’s right hand, ‘The Pale Knight, Ebdon’, all in a single night. It was something out of a legendary tale when they appeared before Bruglas’s city gates.

The name that led them was The Bronze Dragon, Leto.

The citizens’ questions in Bruglas rose to a clamor, demanding to know who he was. Rumors spread throughout the southern region, and traveled far to the north, entering the nobles’ ears in the capital, and his identity was the discussions of the citizens.

He was supposedly the man who brought a miracle.

But the undead general Kabias known as the Reaper of Death and led the attack on Fortress Riedon spoke of a different truth. It was someone else who stood behind Leto and led the refugees. His gravelly voice was dyed with admiration and expectation. The flames in his eye sockets flickered wildly, as though they were looking at the youth in front of it with respect.

There was no need to lie to the men and women here, and thus everyone’s eyes were on the silent youth.

They wondered why he stood behind the scenes. If Kabias did not speak of his deeds, would his name not be known forever?

They did not understand why he rejected honor and glory. They did not understand how he had the courage to lead the refugees out of that situation when it was far easier to flee on his own.

And the reaction he had was a mere smile on his face, neither rejection or disdain at the truth that was revealed.

Some of them swallowed, a few gripped their weapons tightly, and the others inhaled deeply.

Neither fame or repute mattered to him. This mysterious air started to clad around him.

The only thought they had in their mind was, ‘Who is this youth?’

The silence in the battlefield cont

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