One Thousand Twenty-Three Bloody Orders

According to the total number of troops marked on the map, there are indeed more than 1 million troops assembled by the origin of magic in Whithorn. If some peripheral troops are counted, the total number should be close to 2 million.

It's a pity that no one dared to tell him that those troops were basically dissatisfied with the establishment. A team of 10,000 people can have 4,000 soldiers, which is already a very good "established" force.

As for the map placed in the magic source room was a few days ago, the situation on it has not been changed, and the status of the marked troops has not been updated.

According to the latest situation this morning, several troops on this map no longer exist! They have been annihilated and there is nothing left!

Still others, already battered, retreated from their lines in the outer suburbs. Some of the 10,000 people who retreated have hundreds of people left, and some have a thousand people left. In short, they are very far away from the "10,000 people team".

Now, the source of magic does not know these things, and no one dares to tell him these things.

In the past, the source of magic had loyal fanatics and servants in white robes. They could help the source of magic control the demon family, collect information and control the overall situation.

But now, almost all the fanatics have fallen on the road of the expedition, and nine out of ten of the white-robed god servants have been wiped out.

So the source of magic has lost control of the entire demon family, and he has become the fallen king who was deceived on the throne.

It's like the head of state in 1945. He has been deceived by a bunch of false news. As a leader, he has lost his basic judgment on reality, and he has no clear cognition in his mind.

This situation is no different from madness. In the eyes of others, it is all nonsense and dream talk—except for venting and useless roaring, there is no meaningful command.

Swallowed another mouthful of saliva, the poor devil general no longer remembered how much of his own saliva he had swallowed.

He opened his mouth tremblingly, and said in the lowest voice possible: "The great source of magic... We are organizing a counterattack, but we don't have enough artillery to form an advantage locally."

Who knew, it was his barely squeezed words that just hit a pain point in the origin of magic.

In the early years, the demon took advantage of magic and military strength, and used his strong body and fearless ferocity to defeat countless opponents.

that age,

The origin of magic seems to be the god of this world, but who would have thought that all of this has become an illusion now.

Airplanes and cannons have become indispensable weapons and equipment for warfare. Bravery and tenacity are worthless in the face of the torrent of steel.

The numerical advantage that the demon clan was once proud of has long since disappeared in the face of nuclear weapons and genetic weapons.

What about the long sword? What about crossbows? What about the earth-shattering magic cannon? What about the majestic battle drums? What about the long horn sound? What about the infantry phalanx that covered the wilderness, and the demon air force that covered the sky and the sun?

To be honest, with the current source of magic, there are too many problems in my mind, and too much anger.

He tapped the map on the wall with his hands, and kept tapping. The dull sound seemed particularly abrupt and embarrassing in the not-so-spacious basement.

There is no way to use the hall that can make the sound sacred. After all, there will be shells falling at some point, turning it into ruins.

The originally solid walls of the main hall were already full of cracks, and the mottled marks were shocking. No one dared to go there for meetings anymore.

No one spoke in the basement, and everyone has gotten used to it in the past two days, letting the source of magic sing a one-man show.

Ever since, the origin of magic is more willing to sing his one-man show. Anyway, everyone has no solution to the problem, so let's happily hurt each other together.

While beating on the wall, he continued to roar: "Joke! When did the devil rely on artillery to fight? We didn't have these messy weapons before! Isn't it invincible? Now, your guts have been scared to death No! Without cannon, you won't even be able to fight!"

"However, the great source of magic... If we don't have the advantage in firepower, our soldiers will suffer heavy losses. At that time, we won't have enough troops to defend against Whithorns!" A demon general quickly explained .

Although he has no way to solve the problem that humans have surrounded Whithorn on both sides, but as a sergeant general, he still has the vision to judge the optimal solution under the current situation.

Humans' long-range weapons are powerful, and there are no fortifications and bunkers. The devil's troops fight back to deliver food. It's better to leave the troops in the ruins, a little consumption, maybe they can last more time.

"..." The source of magic stared at the speaking demon general, and his sudden silence made everyone nervous.

According to past experience, at this time, the great source of magic will take action to resolve the meeting by killing a demon general.

However, unexpectedly, the source of magic did not do that this time. He suddenly laughed, laughing creepily.

After laughing enough, he suddenly looked at the old demon general in charge, and ordered: "Then don't fight back! Let all the demon troops stay where they should be stationed!"

"Without my order! Don't retreat!" He clenched his fists and ordered in an unquestionable voice.

"Without my order! Can't take a step back!" His cruel voice sounded in the basement, making all the demon generals shudder.

"You must stick to every ruin! Fight to the last person!" He ordered desperately, his voice full of horror.

It seems that at this moment, he has given up winning, or the idea of ​​continuing.

Right now, his mind is full of burning together and dying together! He is going to turn Whithorlans into a huge flesh mill, where he will let demons and humans shed blood together.

Once this terrible idea unfolds, it can never be taken back. So the source of magic continued to order: "If your position is lost, then you will die on the position!"

He emphasized his order, making every demon who heard the order sweat coldly: "I want to make every magic tower and every house a human grave!"

"I want every inch of land here to be stained with blood!" He clenched his fists and ended the meeting with the bloodiest words: "Kill! Go kill! Go kill a bloody storm!"

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