But Sophie remained silent, while Frey's second sword followed closely behind. Green light flashed in the Corpse Witch's eye sockets as it raised its bone staff in anger, deflecting the girl's sword. The Corpse Witch possessed the power of 1.7 energy levels, which surely couldn't be surpassed by Brand's strength.
The pony-tailed girl's attack was easily diverted to the side. She charged forward for several steps before stopping, then instinctively covered her left shoulder, frowning lightly.
The previous arrow wound seemed to have reopened—
"Big Sister, let Markmi take over, your injury..." Essen saw this scene and couldn't help but shout while parrying the Corpse Witch's attack.
Markmi and Little Phenix rushed up from behind.
"Little Phenix, step back!" But Frey held out her sword horizontally, blocking the path of the naive young man and ordered sternly.
"But I'm also militia!" the boy shouted defiantly.
"Step back, did you hear me—!"
Little Phenix's face turned red with anger, but even so, he didn't dare to disobey Frey's command. Among this group of young people, Frey had always been the leader. The girl's kind heart and firm resolve earned her everyone's respect.
Sophie shook his head from behind, knowing that the battlefield was no place for disputes. However, the pony-tailed girl's determination still won his favor. In his world, such girls were rare.
"The four of you, go together." He commanded from the rear.
"Mr. Brand, you—!" Frey took a breath and couldn't help but look back. The young man lying on the rock—Romantic—was still standing beside him, looking innocently over and even winked at her.
That wretched girl, she defected so quickly!
Frey couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration.
"The Corpse Witch is a tough enemy, but the four of you can just barely cover each other." Sophie replied solemnly.
"But Little Phenix..."
"He's also militia."
Frey bit her lip and looked back. Markmi and Essen were already being forced to retreat under the Corpse Witch's onslaught. If the undead creature had a chance to cast spells, their team would likely face more casualties.
That was something she couldn't bear.
Thinking of this, she could only nod, "Very well."
"Hurray! Brand, you're the best!" Little Phenix shouted, drawing his longsword immediately. However, Frey yanked him back by his collar, sternly commanding, "You stay with me and stay within my cover range, understand—"
"Oh..." came the disappointed reply.
With Frey and Little Phenix joining the battle, the tide soon turned. Both Essen and Frey were the best swordfighters among this batch of Buqi militia, and much to everyone's surprise, Little Phenix was no less impressive—according to Sophie, the boy's attacks were aggressive and his sword strikes decisive and precise—more akin to Kruz's aggressive battlefield swordsmanship rather than the Erune army's balanced military swordsmanship.
From any perspective, this was an extremely high appraisal from a senior warrior.
Sophie thought that when Little Phenix grew to Brand's age, his swordsmanship would likely be no less formidable, though his instinct might be somewhat inferior—because Brand seemed born for battle.
Sometimes he wondered, if that young man in history hadn't died and had grown during the war, would his achievements have been any less brilliant than Frey's?
But alas, life is unpredictable, and history has no ifs.
Of course, the most crucial aspect of this battle was the young warriors' timely interventions. Sophie seemed to see through the Corpse Witch's intentions completely, predicting its every move with uncanny accuracy.
What is it attempting?
Why is it doing this?
Is it preparing a spell?
When should it be disturbed?
The Corpse Witch became increasingly alarmed, for even undead beings could feel disarray. Finally, it nearly screamed, "Who on earth are you, Undead Wizard or Black Knight?"
Frey's merciless sword was the reply, followed by its claw gripping the bone staff being severed. The monstrous shrieked as the green fire in its sunken sockets dimmed.
"Damn humans..."
The battle ultimately concluded with Markmi's steady strike. The Corpse Witch, already worn out, howled in despair as its hands and bone staff had been shattered, helplessly watching as the gleaming sword edge pierced its skull.