Everyone's eyes were all turned to the gate of the palace.

Cyril Adrien, the name has become a legend in the palace since the Queen ascended the throne.

After Anastasia Hermann took office, a round of purge of the palace had swept out many ministers who knew how this young man became Earl of Ciali out of the palace. The remaining insiders were naturally the Iron Blood Princess Party.

In order to please the princess, they promoted Cyril's resume and even rumored it to be "the man who saved the North Wind Tower", "the sword of the unparalleled future of the kingdom", "the great new star"...

Such remarks and the outbreak of the war made the remaining people in the palace who were dissatisfied with his successor to the rank of Marquis shut up.

No one would have expected much to the achievements of a young man under twenty years of age to the war, even if he was the youngest marquis ever...

But it is precisely because of his youth that he is destined to have no foundation. It is a bit too difficult to drive the whole Amasil people to unite by relying solely on the power of acre of three parts.

At that time, Solconan's best expectation for Amasil was to survive before O'Saint Emma defeated the Adler area and earn one day. At worst, he would release the Adler area and not too late to fight when reinforcements arrived...

But no one expected that Amasil's news frequently spread. The marquis led his troops to rescue the surrounded city, captured the stolen city, and finally launched a head-on decisive battle, defeating the main force of Aosaint Emma in one fell swoop. Don't forget that this time, Aosaint Emma's troops were far greater than the previous scale!

And all this happened even before the arrival of the reinforcements!

Danya is on top!

Such military achievements completely disappeared from the voices of opposition. Seeing that the situation was so good, people did not forget that Cyril was the direct line of Queen Anastasia Hermann, so more and more voices jumped out and began to praise the achievements of Marquis Amasil... The most exaggerated one wished to give Cyril the title of "king".

Of course, such a brainless person received his salary and went home the next day and was not qualified to appear in the court of the Iron-Blooded Queen again.

Now, this is also the first time that most people in the court have had the opportunity to meet the boy from the Oriental Natural Land-

The heels of the leather boots hit the stone floor, da, da, da, da, da, da, and approached the palace until they walked onto the red carpet, and the sound of footsteps disappeared.

And the young man also appeared in front of everyone.

He was wearing a military uniform in a dress style, with green and silver intertwined, and the style was slim, making the young man stand tall. He took a step forward, and the dark green cloak floated like a light wave as he walked, until he stopped more than ten meters away from the throne, then fell down again and wrapped his body.

He bowed slowly, and his drooping hair covered the cheeks of the handsome elf's face. He looked serious and serious, adding a few points to his already full charm.

"My de Cyril Adrien, pay homage to Her Majesty the Queen."

"Adrien, please give up."

Anastasia Hermann smiled uncontrollably on her face, and looked at Cyril straightened up and continued, "Adrien commanded the Amasil army with his own strength, defeated Osaint Emma, ​​and made great achievements! Today is too hasty and cannot give a suitable reward. We will..."

"His Majesty."

Cyril suddenly spoke and interrupted Anastasia: "I don't need a reward."

Anastasia was stunned.

She looked at the boy's unrelaxed expression, and the smile on her face gradually faded.

She knew Cyril and knew that the young marquis was not a polite person to her - and that Anastasia gave her a reward in public was also a manifestation of the expansion of the power of the king.

If it were Cyril Adrien, she would definitely be able to understand her intentions and accept them very well.

As for how much she gave, she didn't care. Even if she really wanted to be King Amasil, she wouldn't be able to give it.

But the boy at this moment did not have the joy of post-war at all, and even refused her so decisively...

"Adrien." She became serious, her slender eyebrows raised slightly, and the ministers who were familiar with her immediately began to feel creepy--when this Majesty put on such a look, no good things would happen, "It's O'Saint Emma, ​​again..."

"No, your Majesty, it's far more serious than this." Cyril raised his chest and said loudly:

"I ask that all La Rochelle enter the state of preparation for war, and all provinces, cities, and noble territories obey my orders."

"this!"

Immediately, a minister couldn't help but scream. If he had first heard these words, he would probably think that the marquis would take his sword to the throne in the next second and force Anastasia to abdicate.

But such a rebellious words did not arouse Anastasia's slight dissatisfaction. Instead, they glanced at the minister who spoke coldly and hummed: "Shut up and let him say."

"This is a much more disaster-prone crisis than the so-called war between countries." Cyrill spoke extremely fast. "The disaster that destroyed civilization in the past is about to come. I need the whole country to cooperate with my actions to do my best to prevent it from happening."

"Ah? The disaster of civilized destruction is coming? What nonsense!" A civil official who was already dissatisfied with him sneered, "If you want to seize power, you can be more direct, there is no need..."

But he immediately felt the cold gaze from the young man, just the casual glance of the young marquis. The ground that had been originally shiny around the minister suddenly cracked, and a tree grew wildly from the stone. The vines hung him up and tied him up firmly-

"What are you doing, what are you doing, let go--" The civil minister's voice stopped abruptly, because the young man had already walked under the tree hanging on him, his eyes full of mercy.

"The forest east of Amasil has almost become a territory of the black forest in the past few months."

"Your posture is exactly the same as the postures of many O'Saint Emma people who died in the Black Forest."

He snapped his fingers, and the tree disappeared again with a thump. The civil servant slammed firmly on the ground, covering his shoulders and trying to scream in pain, but he didn't dare to say a word.

The young marquis walked back to the throne and bowed again and said:

"Your Majesty, you should have some understanding of this, right?"

Anastasia had stood up at some point, her eyes narrowed slightly, and she pressed the handrail of the throne with one hand and nodded slowly.

Then she saw the boy opening his mouth to her, and his voice rang deep in her mind:

"I have cleared Nora's filth."

"And the filth of the God of Origin has probably occupied St. Helcoent."

Her eyes contracted and she made a decision.

———————

In March, Oscorpicia is still windy and snowy. This small town on the western plateau of La Rochelle is as deserted as uninhabited. The streets are empty, and even the tavern where people should gather the most in such a day is silent.

The young man wrapped in a leather coat pushed open the door of the crooked tavern. The door was in a mess, and the worn floor fell on it with his footsteps, making a creaking sound.

He raised his hand and pushed open the broken door curtain. He had just walked three steps into the door. Suddenly, "hoho" sounded suddenly beside him. Then a thin and dry figure jumped out from under the table over there and flew towards him, like a hungry wolf rushing toward him.

However, this figure was still in mid-air, and the young man had turned his hand sideways as his knife. A vast force was swept out, and the figure instantly melted into dust and fell to the ground.

"There is no substance anymore." He looked at the dark red dust, like particles of flesh and blood.

"Are you a step late?" Behind him, a tall woman in a long animal leather robe walked into the store wearing leather boots, and reached out to her nose with disgust, "A smell."

"Iris, which god is this dirty method?" the young man turned around and asked.

"If you guess correctly, it should be the wolf god." Evangelin Leman bowed and looked at the flesh and blood particles, shook his head, "It's difficult to pursue its traces. It has completely escaped from the ban."

This young man is naturally Cyril Adrien.

Solconan and his party made Anastasia Herman decisively hand over all the local dispatch rights to Cyril. Iris' knowledge reserve alone is not enough to find out all the banned places. Cyril needs to find places to seal the filthy gods through national information.

But things were not as smooth as expected. Even though Evangelin Lehman knew where some of the filth was, these seals were either solid or completely loose, and the filth had spread out - but in the deep mountains and forests, it was not harmed by humans, but it was not possible to find it for a while.

These filth does not go crazy and continue to attack as soon as they come up. They even know how to lie dormant until their strength can be restored to make a difference and then expand.

A city like Oscorpicia that is directly attacked by filth is the first one.

Cyril walked out of the tavern, closed his eyes and felt it for a while, shook his head and said, "There are no survivors in this city."

"All... are all dead?" Evangelin Leman was a little surprised, but he didn't feel very strange. The expansion speed of the filthy power was quite terrible, and they all knew very well.

"No, the number of deaths is not up to par," Cyril denied, "someone rescued the residents of the city."

He suddenly raised his head and looked to the west: "The disordered magic fluctuations... Someone is being chased, keep up with me."

"Follow you, what are you going to drive..." Before Evangelin Lehman finished speaking, the boy's figure had disappeared. She stomped her feet in anger - Damn, who can keep up with your speed of space movement?

Cyril didn't care whether Iris could keep up with him. His figure flashed several times and had appeared in the plains west of the city. In the wind and snow, a figure wrapped in a white velvet coat was running forward frantically, and behind it was a huge black phantom, like a running wolf, chasing the figure tightly.

"This figure..." Cyril's eyes fell on the figure and couldn't help but be stunned. He actually felt a familiar aura from the figure. The next second, he remembered who this aura belonged to-

"Kinderred!"

He shouted, and the running figure below stopped, his rhythm was chaotic, and he was immediately caught up by the black phantom. The wolf's mouth was so huge that it could swallow dozens of people, and tightly blocked all the whereabouts of the figure.

But Cyril had already grasped the hilt of the sword.

The sword of the Saint White Alliance, Igwalk, was named after the great hero of the Fourth Era, and with a gentle wave of his hand, the black phantom's movement stopped in mid-air.

Immediately afterwards, the phantom broke into the wind and snow in half in half.

A line of small words lit up on the properties panel:

"【Sign: Wolf Desire】: The wolf god Sirius has endless desires, and desire can stimulate motivation and increase your power."

"In terms of strength, it is the extraordinary level." Cyril confirmed that the filth had completely dissipated. With his current strength level... no, he didn't even need to use his own power. Relying on the power of this Saint White Alliance Sword Igwalk is enough to deal with those extraordinary level filth.

However, this does not mean that the power in this sword is exaggerated. It is just that the purpose of this sword is to deal with the "end". It has the ability to attack those filthy. The spiritual power contained on the blade alone is enough to break through those filthy that has not yet grown.

It saves the owner the effort to mow grass, so it is true.

The figure below was a little confused. It was not until Cyril fell from mid-air that she seemed to be sure that the phantom chasing her behind her had disappeared.

She took off her huge sheep bone mask and revealed the beautiful and exquisite face that Cyril had seen. She was indeed the representative of the Isis Holy Regiment, Jindreid, who had traveled to New Orway Port.

"How could you, here..."

Her La Rochelle spoke stuttering, but it was much smoother than when she was in Port New Orway.

"Troubleshoot some things, the goal has been completed." He looked at the determined girl, "Where are you?"

"I, the Holy Group, were chased and fled..." She was gestured and said, as Iris's figure tear open the ice and snow, and then she laughed sweetly:

"In just a few minutes, you have already started to talk about love with girls? Marquis Adrien, you are too good at flirting with the grass, are you merciless? Can you have your confidant on this ice field?"

"If you can't speak, you can't stop talking." Cyril glanced at her.

"I don't know if Miss Christian knows it, will be sad." Iris didn't care about his words, reached out and leaned his nails and said happily.
Chapter completed!