"The Flower and the Crossed Sword" [Noah's Military Song]
sing praises, sing praises
Cross sword with cross star tattooed on it
Remember the glory is with us
Polish our armor and put on our crowns
While chanting the name of your lover, don’t forget that the holy light of faith is with us
The war horses are neighing, and the clarion call of holy war has been heard in all directions.
Warriors, move forward! Move forward!!
God bless us, victory will be in the near future
Knights, charge! Charge!!
The blood no longer distinguishes you from me. I dropped the broken spear and picked up the sword from my waist to chop.
Soldiers, fight! Fight!!
Let’s set up an unbreakable flag together. Even if the white cloth is stained by hot blood, even if the body dies, we must put a flagpole in the sinner’s head.
Brothers, we fought bloody battles together
If I go to heaven first, but I can’t remember my name, I can’t take my bones with me
Please take my cross sword and stick it on the seashore. This is my tombstone and my remains.
Please come see me next year with mead and bread
You will find——
The flower of Tia, wrapped around a sword, looks toward the horizon in one direction
That's the direction of my home
…
Thirst and heat were his most real feelings at the moment.
My throat hurts so much, I feel like I'm about to suffocate.
But it didn't look like he had fallen into the river, or that someone had choked him.
"Water...give me water."
He made a very weak sound, but the sound was so low that even the buzzing of mosquito wings could be drowned out, so no one would hear him.
crackling...
Is it an auditory hallucination?
He couldn't help but wonder why he heard the sound he was used to by the stove in winter:
The dry firewood is ignited by the fire, and the high temperature causes the firewood to explode little by little. This unique rhythmic sound is like the wonderful beat played by a mysterious musician.
His eyelids were extremely heavy, as if he was under a gravity spell caused by this monotonous beat. He wanted to keep his eyes closed like this, and let the already ethereal and boundless consciousness simply go away.
The pain will surely subside...
He thought so.
He tried hard to let himself fall back to sleep, but there was always an uneasy premonition in his heart - if he really fell asleep like this, he would never wake up.
Perhaps he was frightened by the terrifying judgment in his heart. Even though he was exhausted, he still tried to open his eyes a crack. But as soon as he opened his eyes, his dark field of vision was immediately filled with dazzling red light.
Only red charcoal fire was seen scattered on the charred soil, and these little suns falling on the ground baked the last trace of moisture on the land.
No one put it out, and no one interfered. These charcoal fires naturally emitted light and heat, as if they were fulfilling some kind of mission, imbuing everything that could be ignited around them with the burning soul of the fire.
These dark and soft charcoal, when they were originally tough wood:
Some were once chariots, on which noble generals rolled over the bones of the dead; some were once spears, held in the hands of passionate soldiers to fight through obstacles; some were once flagpoles, with battle flags flying under the loyal feet.
The flags fluttered in the hands of the soldiers with the rustling cold wind...
But that noble general was no longer noble when his corpse was mixed with other bones.
The young soldiers' limbs were intertwined. Steel and flesh were fused together, and they were no longer separated from each other.
The battle flag that was supposed to be flying in the air eventually turned into ashes along with the heat wave and these little sparks...
No matter what they were, no matter what they were used to do, no matter who they were used by.
Now, these pieces of wood are all equal and turned into charcoal fire. After a while, they turned into black carbon particles.
This is a land killed by war.
The grains of charcoal fire scattered on these once fertile soils have wiped out the last vitality of this land. Perhaps it will take several springs and autumns before the spring that belongs to this place will usher in.
Even the air was filled with charcoal fire, and the scorching heat was unbearable.
The fine armor and swords were burned red by the fierce fire all over the place. Unfortunately, their owners have become lonely souls wandering here, and no one feels sorry for them.
After a while, high-pitched screams spread in the dead air.
"ah!!"
He finally opened his eyes completely and saw that a piece of skin on his left arm had been ignited by flames. Without having time to think about it, he quickly picked up the sand and slapped the raging flames on his arm.
"Uh...ahem..."
Although the flame was extinguished immediately, the skin on the arm had been burned and the surface was charred black.
But the pain of the burn was immediately overwhelmed by the nausea in his stomach. He immediately began to vomit non-stop. In the vomit, in addition to the morning bread and cheese, there was also some black charcoal residue mixed with it.
When he was unconscious, the dust in the air ran into his trachea. If he hadn't been awakened by the pain, he might have suffocated and become one of the thousands of dead souls floating in this land.
"Ugh... ugh!"
He knelt on the ground, arched his back, and vomited out more charcoal ash. Only when his stomach and throat were completely empty did he finally have the strength to raise his head and look around.
"I seem to have been injured a lot?! Where are the medics? Is there anyone who can bandage me?"
In addition to the severe pain that was still coming from his left arm just now, he also felt similar pain in the exposed parts of his body. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he was covered in bruises.
He shouted to everyone around him, but no one responded to him. His consciousness was still confused, and his eyes had not yet been able to focus well.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Because his vision was blurred, he kept slapping his stiff cheeks to gradually regain his consciousness.
As his memory gradually returned to consciousness, he began to remember his own name - Heimer Noska.
"Where are the others? Where am I?"
He stared blankly into the distance. He was not carried into the soft quilt of the wounded barracks. The heat wave mixed with the corpse and charcoal gas brushed his face. The pain in his head was still there, and he could not explain the situation in front of him.
"What, what's going on?!"
This is a purgatory of fire and sword.
The surrounding soldiers were lying on the burning ground together with flesh and blood. There were scorching ashes and sparks floating in the air, and the red-hot iron swords and deformed armor covered up the blood of the soil.
This scene is so unfamiliar:
The dead soldiers wore legion armor and legion emblems, and the swords scattered on the ground were also the legion's configuration...
But this scene is so strange, how can one believe that it is real?
His sword was stuck in the mound not far away. The bright sword body reflected the flickering light of the fire, and it was still so beautiful.
Heimer originally thought that this was the only thing that made him feel kind and familiar, but when he subconsciously looked around, the dry lake bed in the distance overlapped with his own memory.
"No, this is impossible! I obviously remember..."
He clearly remembered that this place should be a green grassland. In his last memory, he was marching with the people lying on the ground singing military songs.
"What's going on here? What happened?"
Heimer raised his arms, trying to stand up. But as soon as he lifted his body up a little, he fell down again.
"Drink haha... drink haha..."
He gasped loudly, and the dull air was his life-saving straw. The behavior just now consumed a lot of energy, and now his overall condition is also quite bad. His body is obviously exhausted, and his head, which was originally lacking in oxygen, is also feeling dizzy.
As soon as he recovered from the dizziness, he looked around, and a familiar figure suddenly jumped into his sight. Heimer used his hands with a little strength to prop up his body, put his knees on the ground, and crawled towards him along the road.
"Hey!"
It was a strong man lying on the ground. Heimer climbed up to him. While shaking the man's heavy body, he shouted: "Pokhara, you can't die, can you?"
Pokhara, this sinister-faced North Nomat man, was lying on the ground with his face sideways.
From the direction he was looking at, he seemed to be asleep, but when he turned Bokara's face over, he discovered that the other half of Bokara's face was completely burnt. The skin on the left side of the face was everted, and the yellowing of the face could be seen.
Muscles and pale bones.
"Asshole!!"
Heimer pinched Bokara's neck, and veins popped out on his arms. The force of his hands was so strong that the long-stiffened corpse even stuck out its tongue.
"Last time you robbed Oshaye of his account, you were dead before I even finished settling it, you beast?"
Heimer suppressed the sadness in his chest. He was so angry that his hands were shaking.
In the past, Pokhara would have suddenly gotten angry and punched him in the cheek, making him look like stars.
But Pokhara didn't respond to him, and his bloodshot blue eyes looked up aimlessly at the sky imprisoned by the firelight.
"Drink...haha!!"
Heimer's face was flushed, turning purple. He was panting violently and exhaling loudly, as if the person he was pinching was actually himself.
Pokhara was indifferent, but the smelly tongue stretched out longer. In this way, Heimer didn't know what this guy who had always been full of only spitting shit was going to say.
After all, this bastard is really dead.
"It's true...dead..."
Heimer's hands ran out of strength.
He understood that this was not a dream.
There was no time to reminisce with the dead. Even if he added a few more punches to that ugly rotten face and knocked out a few loose teeth, nothing could be restored.
This man was the person he most wanted to duel with before he was alive. Before going to the battlefield, he even fought with this man, and the legion commander personally punished him for this.
"There's no point... bastard!"
Heimer let go of his hands, closed the eyes of the soldier with whom he had a bad relationship during his lifetime, and then laid the bastard's body flat.
"Go well, even though you deserve to go to hell."
Heimer, who was still unable to stand up, beat his left chest, bent slightly, and gave a military salute to the man's body. Although Heimer did not recognize Bokara's personality, he also admitted that this man was indeed an outstanding person in life.
warrior.
Yes, he once wanted to kill this despicable and shameless villain. Now that this person is dead, not only is he not happy at all, he even feels sad for this person's death.
Since he is dead, he must give this man the respect he deserves.
Heimer straightened his sore knees, and after a while, he staggered to his feet. Once he had a good balance with his shoulders tilted, he raised his head and looked around.
As far as the eye can see, there are only broken swords and broken halberds, and the setting sun.
In this desolate land, the dead bodies of the soldiers of their Bardafenr Legion are everywhere... The soldiers wearing familiar military emblems sleep in this soil dyed red by fire and blood.
"Are they all... dead?"
Looking around, he didn't find a figure standing upright like him. In this dead land, there was only the crackling sound of charcoal and flesh being burned by the flames. His vision was distorted by the fire, and even the sky was distorted by this.
The flames rising everywhere were tinged with red.
Heimer tried to look at the other corpses. Unknowingly, the strength of his limbs was taken away. The pair of increasingly weak knees could not support the increasingly heavy body.
Bang!
He knelt down, his knees on the dead earth.
"Basha, Luo Man, Komosa... you are all dead..."
He fell back and lay flat on his back, using his last strength to scratch the hard ground with his hands. This was a way to vent the pain and unwillingness in his heart.
There was pain in his hands, and only the pain spreading throughout his body could make him clearly realize that he was really still alive.
The broken fingernails were filled with brown soil, and the corners of his eyes were filled with salty and bitter moisture. Whenever his moist eyes wanted to shed tears, Heimer sniffed his sour nose, but he did not let the tears leave his eyes.
"No matter what... in the blink of an eye..."
He was a warrior and a man. Heimer knew that tears could not alleviate his grief, and he would only be laughed at for his weakness by those guys playing in heaven.
The heat on the surface has begun to dissipate, but the heat on the ground still makes the back of the head feel as hot and muggy as sticking to the belly of a horse.
He had just checked the other corpses, and they were all familiar to him. Now, Heimer no longer had the strength or courage to continue. He just wanted to lie down like this and sleep here like those who could never get up.
"God...am I abandoned?"
He felt abandoned...
Abandoned by these people; abandoned by this land; abandoned by... God.
Suddenly, he remembered what the sergeant with three scars on his face said during the recruit's speech: As a soldier walking on the line between life and death, you should get used to death. You should be grateful to God every second you breathe.
Bless.
But is this really something you can “get used to”?
Yes, he was lucky to survive. But he only felt that this was punishment, so how could he be grateful?
"You bastard! Let me hum if you can breathe!!"
clang!
He drew his sword and stuck it on the ground. The stainless steel blade pried the dry soil, making a clanging sword sound. Heimer leaned on the sword blade, leaving rows of deep footprints on the red land.
Heimer couldn't accept it, and his heart was full of confusion and confusion.
How long had he been unconscious?
What happened between the time he was in coma and when he woke up?