Britannia's Red Dragon 2/2

Attila the Hun! What a monster!

At the same time, the Roman captain guarding the rear glanced at the figure on the low slope, subconsciously averting his gaze. His eyes were full of fear, his cheeks twitched, and the scars on his face that had just scabbed over seemed to ache faintly.

In the past, the Roman Legions, when assembled in a pincer formation, would roam across Europe with their infantry and cavalry prowess.

The Hunnic tribes, living in a primitive era where even iron tools were not widely available, were naturally no match for the Roman Empire.

However, with the arrival of Attila, this king who descended from the heavens displayed the miracles of the wolf and the deer, teaching these Huns to absorb the cultural experience of the Huns who migrated from Central Asia, and to accept the influence of advanced countries such as Rome. This enabled them to develop their own culture and mystical system, and the loose Hunnic tribes subsequently rose to prominence.

Moreover, Attila seemed to be a darling born for war. She created all sorts of weapons of conquest, reorganized the army, and turned these wolf cubs into powerful and bloodthirsty war machines.

Upon learning that the Huns in the far east had established a vast empire, some members of the Hunnic tribes, with the slogan of recreating the power of the "Hunnic Empire," incited Attila to repeatedly lead his army to ravage the countries of Europe.

Under Attila's leadership, even the strongest fortified cities could not withstand the monster's sword. The Roman Legions struggled against the wolf riders, and the Pantheon's accompanying priests lost their former advantage against the rising Shamanic Sorcerer of the Huns.

From then on, the Huns, accompanied by packs of wolves, came and went like the wind, plundering people and destroying cities. The frequency of these raids increased, and the Huns gradually became a sharp blade inserted into the heart and back of the Roman Empire, continuously bleeding and tearing flesh from the empire.

Unexpectedly, this time they actually dared to travel thousands of miles and detour to the wild land of Britannia. The reason for this left the husband puzzled.

They were unlucky to get into this mess, especially with that bastard in the carriage involved; the journey was destined to be anything but peaceful.

Well, if we've even fought alongside these Celtic barbarians, what else is impossible?

The captain glanced back at the menacing red dragon banner behind him, shook his head helplessly, and sighed.

At that moment, as the desolate wilderness ahead appeared, the figures of a few large, bluish-gray wolves circled around. The captain immediately became solemn, tapped his shield, and murmured a devout war prayer for his soldiers.

However, before he could speak, a clear and melodious chant came from in front of the carriage.

"Great Mars, King who founded the nation on the seven hills, Lord of war, Lord of our people, I offer this sacrifice with the blood of Rome. May calamity shun my legions and protect my warriors..."

The captain turned around in surprise, his gaze shifting downwards, and he couldn't help but see a petite, blonde girl wearing a laurel wreath standing on the axle of the carriage, jumping out of the magnificent cage and entering to pray in a very proper manner.

The three pampered priests remaining on both sides, led by the blonde girl, suppressed their nausea at the sight of blood, mustered their spirits to pray for the soldiers, and cast divine spells to grant them minor buffs.

"Hey, you over there, give me a short sword, I want to go to the battlefield too!"

The blonde, blue-eyed girl stood with one hand on her hip, raised her hand in front of her, and faced the chieftain, tilting her chin up and humming softly. Her wrinkled little face looked quite serious.

Only the single strand of hair on her head, dancing in the wind, looked both cute and comical, shattering the dignity the little girl had painstakingly built up.

"Your Highness, the battlefield is dangerous. The children should hide quietly in the carriage. We will take care of things here."

The man refused lightly, though his tone was not very respectful, it was slightly more conciliatory than before.

Regardless, although this noblewoman was a bit willful, she was, after all, just a child caught up in a power struggle. Blaming her for the attack would be too harsh.

"Don't treat me like a child, I'm a genius! Where is there any place that's absolutely safe these days? Compared to being dragged out and killed, I'd rather take up arms and go to the battlefield. Do you want to tarnish the dignity of an Imperial Marquis?"

The blonde girl complained in a pretentious manner, her emerald eyes sparkling with intelligence as she frowned and made her demands.

Upon hearing this tone of half-coercion and half-intimidation, the head constable casually tossed a dagger to the eloquent young girl.

The little girl looked at the bronze dagger, barely three inches long and practically a toy, in her arms. Her face darkened, and she gritted her teeth, slashing open her left palm, spilling blood. With a wrinkled face, she completed the sacrifice of her vow, finally muttering somewhat dejectedly.

"This thing is blunt and small. Holding it, let alone killing enemies, even Yu Yi would feel pain if he were to commit suicide..."

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I'm a warrior who dares to fight lions! Get me a weapon, and we'll hold out together until the Seventh Legion arrives!"

The girl raised her head, her eyes gleaming with cunning. What she didn't say was that the lion she was "fighting" with was still nursing.

"You two, escort His Highness back to his carriage!"

However, the chief priest did not take the bait and gestured for the priest to put the troublesome boy into the carriage and keep an eye on him.

"If the front lines collapse, she'll run off with her and that bunch of Celtic barbarians..."

A soft murmur came from behind him. The chieftain tightened the straps of his rooster-comb helmet, raised his shield, drew his short sword, and swung it at the giant wolf near the mountainside.

More than a dozen Roman Soldier, with solemn expressions, moved in small steps, forming a shield wall close together, creating a horizontal iron barrier on the Lone Mountain.

The blonde girl paused, as if she understood something, and stopped making a fuss. She obediently climbed into the carriage and let the female priestess who accompanied her bandage her wounds, looking utterly dejected.

As the sounds of battle cries, arrows piercing flesh, and bones shattering echoed from the outside, the little girl huddled in a corner, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, her eyes filled with gloom and confusion.

Dear friend, do you really want me to die?

The chieftain thrust his shield forward, deflecting the cleaved bend. His short sword pierced through the gap and plunged into the belly of a giant wolf. At the same time, he was struck in the back by a cold arrow and staggered forward, falling to the ground.

Bah! Those Hunnic bastards are truly insidious!

The man swung his long and short swords upwards, gritted his teeth and cut the arrows. He raised his hand to wipe the blood from his face, looked around at the chaotic battle scene, and cursed under his breath.

If they had only been dealing with these giant wolves, they wouldn't have been defeated so quickly.

Unexpectedly, this wave not only included giant wolves, but also a group of cavalrymen who, with their superb horsemanship and ability to exploit blind spots, were poised to unleash their arrows and were hidden on the backs of the giant wolves.

The Roman army fared better; their tower shields and Leather Armor allowed them to withstand the first wave of sudden attacks.

However, the Celts, who had virtually no protection, suffered far more casualties, with nearly a week's worth of people falling.

Even so, after several weeks of attacks by elite wolf riders, the two already weaker sides were quickly devoured and their forces were dwindling. The Roman side, bearing the brunt of the attacks, was in dire straits.

Damn it! 20 people is too few. If you could give me more people, even just a full team, we might not be so easily overwhelmed!

The husband, watching his companions being slaughtered and chased, was filled with rage and fury, his eyes bloodshot with rage. At the same time, he himself was also in grave danger.

Pfft!

At this moment, a speeding chariot leaped down from the high ground, its blades snapping off the heads of the two giant wolves, leaving them covered in blood. The battered captain swayed, his vision blurring, his face pale and sickly from the severe bleeding.

How many of you are left?

Boudica gazed at the horrific battlefield littered with severed limbs, flesh, and organs, dropping the druid-prepared Magic Potion, and while fending off the giant wolf's charge, she urgently inquired.

"Including me, there are 5 others who can still breathe..."

"Hold on, my reinforcements will be here soon!"

"I advise you not to wait any longer. The Seventh Legion will not come. We have been abandoned."

The chieftain took the Magic Potion, tilted his head back and poured it down his throat. After a moment of silence, he glanced at the Queen who had come to his aid at this crucial moment, and then decided to be frank and offer his advice in a deep voice.

"Perhaps, there is still a chance..."

Boudica watched as the wolf riders, their formation tightening on both sides, surged forward once more, and murmured to himself.

But even she herself didn't believe those words.

As for joining forces to charge out from above, taking advantage of the terrain, or capturing and killing the enemy leader, they have tried it before.

However, the gruesome corpses of Celts and Romans that lay before the gentle slope for weeks had already taught them a bloody lesson: this was nothing but wishful thinking.

As long as that god is there, standing across the battlefield, they have no chance of escaping.

They have no chance unless someone can restrain the survivor on the gentle slope.

No way, they're just a bunch of outcasts of fate.

Waaah!

At the same time, several wolf riders roared in and began to slaughter the remaining soldiers on the mountaintop. The Celts and Romans were forced into a corner, clinging to each other with almost no room to move or maneuver. They could only let the waves of arrows kill them or drag them out of the camp and tear them apart.

As the number of figures before them dwindled, the survivors awaiting their fate were filled with despair.

As a group of Shamanic Sorcerer chanted obscure and strange incantations, Aether Tide formed above their heads, staining the entire sky.

A devastating blow is imminent.

O God who protects the Celtic, have mercy on your people! If a miracle could happen, I would give anything!

Boudica looked at her two pale-faced daughters behind her, her eyes filled with sorrow.

"Boom!"

Just at this critical moment, a red and black streak of light, like a meteorite, plummeted from the sky and slammed into the densely packed wolf riders, tearing up pieces of severed limbs.

"Roar!"

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, a colossal dragon with scales ablaze with crimson flames, its serpentine pupils opening and closing, coldly surveyed its surroundings.