"If we leave now, we can still save the three corps behind."
"Is it too late?" Horn asked in return.
Patrick shook his head: "It's too late. Once the Second Imperial Guard Corps is defeated, there won't even be a chance to retreat to Gray Furnace Town. Make a decision quickly."
"..." Standing in place, Horn gazed towards the direction of Joan of Arc Castle.
Patrick furrowed his brows tightly, impatiently grabbing Horn's arm: "Speak up, the sooner a decision is made, the fewer people die."
"..." Horn muttered to himself, looking at the ground.
"What? What are you saying?"
Taking a deep breath, Horn lifted his head, looked at Patrick, and smiled: "If I chose preservation, I wouldn't be standing here; then I should be standing on the land of Swamp Town."
Patrick was stunned, seeing the young man standing in front of the escaping vessel from Joan of Arc Castle three months ago once again overlap with the person in front of him.
"It's different from before..."
"It's the same." Horn patted Patrick's shoulder, "None of us know the situation on Jeanne's side. If we all fail, where can we retreat to? Daze Village? What about the Defensive Army that follows us and the local Joan of Arc Castle people?"
Patrick opened his mouth yet said nothing further.
"Aren't they afraid I'll die? Aren't they afraid I'll be attacked? Aren't they afraid I'll abandon them?"
Horn walked to the carriage, took off the lightweight breastplate, and wore the heavy Milan-style three-quarter infantry armor.
"Then I'll show them — I didn't abandon them in the past, I won't abandon them now, and I certainly won't abandon them in the future!"
Putting on the shoulder and neck guards, threading his arms into the arm guards, Horn tied the Blood Covering Cloud to his waist, his eyes shining fiercely.
"Armand, bring over my Pope's Banner!"
"Your holy power is already exhausted," Patrick came after him, "Even if you go over, what use is it?"
"I once promised them." Horn turned around, opened his arms, allowing the nearby War Monks of the Imperial Guard to help him fasten the thigh guards, "To live and die with you."
Taking a carrot-shaped bronze seal from his pocket, Horn threw it to Patrick: "If I die, give it to Jeanne; if Jeanne dies, give it to Madlan; if Madlan also dies, keep it yourself."
Turning over the bronze seal, Patrick stared straight at the inscription "Commanded by the holy, for the benefit of life and death", raising his head as if pleading: "I don't want it." Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novｅlfire.net
"Master Patrick, now is not the time for petty disputes."
"Who is that? I am Chrispa..."
"Hahaha." Horn paused for a moment, then laughed heartily.
He put on the final helmet, took the sun flag representing the Pope from Armand's hand.
Looking at Patrick's complex expression, Horn planted the flagpole in the ground; unsure if he was speaking to Patrick or himself:
"This is a battle unfinished from three months ago; I must see it through."
Turning around, he faced the First Imperial Guard Corps, the most elite batch of War Monks in the Salvation Army.
They had been waiting for quite some time.
Each had mastered at least one breathing technique, most adorned in three-quarter armor of the Extraordinary Knights, wielding the finest spears and knight's swords.
They were the Pope's guard, the last hidden strength, the final reserve force.
The Blood Covering Cloud in his hand shimmered with an unprecedented red glow, reflecting on Horn's resolute face like blood.
"All who yearn for freedom, follow me..."