Dale Heide fell off his warhorse due to Egil's great strength, tumbling awkwardly to the ground.
"Ugh~" The Duke himself had just thought to get up and fight again, but he felt a chill from his back to his chest, followed by a sweet taste in his throat, and a sharp pain in his chest, with blood flowing profusely from his mouth.
Egil's left-hand Hell Battleaxe Gam's axe tip pierced the Duke's right chest, and blood splattered.
Am I going to die here? Dale Heide's vision began to blur, but his mind became increasingly clear; this was the most painful time for the Duke. He watched the knights still struggling in battle, and his legitimate son's desperate cries.
"The Duke is dead! The Duke is dead!" The cries echoed on the battlefield, the peasants began to flee, and the knights started to waver.
Sirulf's battle flag had already been chopped down by Egil, tainted with the Duke's blood, and the last hope was extinguished.
No!
