Chapter 373 The Last Hero

Count Jacob did not sit and wait for death. With the agility of a soldier and his powerful dynamic vision, he shuttled through the artillery fire and dodged the bombardment of shells again and again.

However, he knew that this was not the end.

Count Jacob looked up and looked into the distance, his eyes narrowed slightly, and his sight seemed to penetrate the rolling smoke.

Over the past few months, after many tragic positional battles, at the cost of tens of thousands of lives, he has thoroughly understood the "three axes" of the Burning Army's tactics.

First use artillery to bombard, then let the flying dragon sweep, and finally end with ground troops such as infantry and cavalry.

"Roar--"

Sure enough, a long dragon roar sounded.

Rows of chaotic black shadows appeared on the horizon, rolling like dark clouds, pressing towards Fayol City.

Count Jacob roared:

"Flying dragon! Be careful of the sky!"

However, before the soldiers could climb out of the fortifications, the two-legged flying dragon swooped down to the top of the city.

The complex shadows danced wildly, and the hot flames lingered on the city walls.

The soldiers who couldn't dodge were burned, struggling constantly, and finally turned into charred corpses.

However, this was just one wave of attacks. After the flying dragons swooped over the city, they climbed up again, skillfully turning and turning, and were about to launch the next wave of attacks.

"Scatter! Scatter!" Count Jacob roared.

These remaining 3,000 soldiers were his last reliance, and they were also the most loyal soldiers to himself and the United Kingdom of the North.

He had experienced several such attacks, and each time his army suffered heavy losses.

But even so, Count Jacob was still helpless.

Any individual will be limited by factors such as origin, education, and the era they belong to. Jacob Rosa is already considered a top general in the North, but facing this cross-era, land and air attack, he still can't find any solution.

He can only summarize methods such as building fortifications and dispersing troops to minimize losses, but he has almost no strategy to fight back.

And just these few rounds of bombardment and flying dragon sweeps have made him lose precious 500 troops again.

Count Jacob was filled with rage and had nowhere to vent, so he stretched out his hand.

"Give me a strong bow."

A soldier immediately handed over a black giant bow more than two meters long.

Count Jacob skillfully put on the arrow.

His arm muscles bulged and veins bulged.

He actually used his long-honed strong physique and unparalleled strength to pull the longbow that even the orcs could hardly pull to the full.

"Monsters from the Burning Kingdom!"

"Buried with my soldiers!"

A piercing scream broke through the air.

"Swoosh--"

The sharp arrow directly pierced a flying dragon and the knight on its back at the same time. The flying dragon flapped its wings weakly and struggled, wailing and falling to the wilderness.

It even caused several flying dragons behind it to be hit and messed up in the air.

Count Jacob roared: Monsters! You will never be able to defeat the Scandians!"

"Shoot them down!"

"My Lord Count! "

However, there were too many wyverns, even though the soldiers shot arrows in retaliation.

After all, not everyone is as powerful as Count Jacob, and only a few wyverns can be shot down by them.

And more arrows fell down weakly when they flew in the air, but the flames spewed by the wyverns were enough to kill the soldiers who shot the arrows.

This was an unequal contest.

After several more rounds of swooping and sweeping, the city walls were already engulfed in flames and corpses were everywhere.

Dolo looked at the city walls in the distance, looked down at the watch on his wrist, and coldly ordered:

"Notify the melee troops and prepare to fight on the city walls."

"Yes, Marshal. "

The hobgoblin general under his command responded quickly.

Snowflakes fell one after another and drifted to the top of the city.

It created a solemn atmosphere.

There was a deathly silence on the city wall.

Count Jacob looked at the army of the Burning Kingdom marching like a thick wall in the distance, his eyes suddenly sharp, as if he had made some kind of determination.

"Even if I die, I will die on a glorious battlefield! Get ready!"

"Everyone, follow me out of the city to attack!"

"Boom! "

The city gate slowly opened.

Jacob Rosa held high the broken flag in his hand, rode a white horse and rushed to the front, and behind him were five hundred knights.

He wanted to die in a glorious charge.

Become a part of the epic of the death of the North, become a heroic figure worthy of praise, and forever associate the name of Jacob Rosa with bravery and loyalty.

The sound of horse hooves rang out.

Facing the torrent of the kingdom's army, this cavalry of less than five hundred people was like a trickle flowing into the ocean, and seemed weak.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Intensive gunfire rang out.

The knights who followed Count Jacob to charge fell one after another, and only Jacob, wearing rare armor, was still charging, as if nothing could stop him.

Soon, he was the only one left charging alone on the battlefield.

"That's the enemy's commander!"

"Kill him and we will be knighted! "

The soldiers of the Burning Kingdom roared with excitement, waving swords and guns and rushing towards him.

"Damn, that boss has purple equipment!"

"Fight him! Kill him!"

"Don't fight me for it!"

"Don't fight me for it!"

The players screamed excitedly and used various professional methods to throw spells, hidden weapons and even sundries at him like they were free.

Facing the enemies coming in like a tide, Count Jacob sneered and roared with a ferocious face:

"You can't defeat me!"

"You will never be able to make a true Scandinavian surrender!"

"Maybe I will die here today, but my unyielding soul will wander on this land, and I will become a nightmare that you will never forget in your life!"

"Come on, come on--"

His voice suddenly stagnated, his eyes became a little slow, and red light flashed in his eyes.

Under the attention of everyone, Count Jacob dismounted like a puppet, and then raised his hands and even took off his armor on his own initiative.

He. Surrendered?

"Don't worry about anything, grab the equipment!"

Players rushed forward one after another, fearing that the rare treasure would be robbed, and the scene became chaotic for a while.

"Bang!"

There was a sudden gunshot.

A blood hole appeared on Count Jacob's forehead.

His expression suddenly became painful and distorted.

People turned their heads quickly and saw a skinny human holding a steel gun. The barrel of the gun was slightly hot, and the hand holding the gun was still shaking - there was a mark on his neck that symbolized serfdom.

Then, more gunshots rang out, and spells came overwhelmingly, drowning the count.

In the end, his tough body was covered with wounds and slowly fell backwards.

And the players swarmed over like wild dogs fighting for food. And Jacob Rosa's rare relics became the focus of players' competition.

"Damn, let the NPC rob the monster!"

"That guy again?"

"What a damn good luck."

"Wait, go grab the equipment!!"

The last hero of the North died just like that.

A space ripple emerged, and the ogre wizard holding a staff and expressionless Rump appeared next to the military recorder.

"Lord Trump?!"

"What do you want?"

Faced with this sudden distinguished visitor, the military recorder's voice was trembling, and he didn't even hold the pen tightly, almost dropping it to the ground.

"Record what I said."

"In 1782 of the Third Era, Jacob Rosa, a remnant of the Northern United Kingdom, surrendered to the kingdom, but was beaten to death by angry serfs in the process."

"Yes, sir!"

"I will follow your words word for word, and every word you say is an absolute fact."

Jacob Rosa made a mistake -

History has always been written by the victors.

Not the mourners. (End of this chapter)