Chapter 306: Saint Rank! No Wonder Chloe Urged Me to Flee

Charlot Mecklenburg pointed at Chloe Hadrian and roared heroically, "A defeated foe has come to court death once again!"

Chloe dismissed all distractions and shouted back, "Who's the one scrambling like a rat after getting beaten a few times?"

Standing beside Charlot was a quick-witted assistant clerk, quietly feeding him lines. After all, Chloe had been stationed on the frontlines, while Charlot had just returned. Without accurate "battle reports," it would be easy for him to misspeak and expose inconsistencies.

As the two exchanged fierce insults, a sound akin to a phoenix's cry rang out sharply from Chloe’s military camp. A young man clad in military uniform slowly rose into the air. He cast a disdainful glance at Charlot from afar, and though the distance between them was vast, Charlot felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his entire body stiffening.

“Saint rank!”

“No wonder Chloe urged me to flee.”

“If not for my loyal servant, Herolf of the former Golden Rams Fleet, I’d be dead for sure this time.”

"Perhaps I could escape on my own, but the West Wind Knight Order would be doomed."

"I just wonder, will that old goat hold up under pressure? Back on Saint Michael Island, his performance was anything but stellar—he was downright foolish at times!"

Chloe, maintaining some semblance of courtesy, announced loudly to let Charlot understand the gravity of the situation, “This is Major Andreas of the Black Phoenix Dynasty, the youngest Saint rank in our dynasty!”

“To die at his hands would truly be an honor for you.”

Charlot had never heard of this Saint rank from the Black Phoenix Dynasty, and as for claims of being the youngest, he paid them no mind.

Although Major Andreas appeared youthful, Charlot guessed his actual age wasn’t far from that of Princess May Guillaume or Senior Menielman Soumet—perhaps even a few years older. Charlot had encountered many so-called “youngest Saint ranks” before.

Indeed, he had met the youngest Saint rank of the Old Continent: Zimourman Axel Robin.

Andreas showed no intention of speaking. He reached out into the air, and a knight’s lance flew out from the military camp to his grasp. Taking a deep breath, his body emitted a sound like the clear cry of a phoenix, resonating powerfully.

Only then did Charlot realize the earlier sound wasn’t an intentional whistle but rather the natural resonance of Andreas’s unique combat energy technique.

“Built-in background music... what an impressive technique.”

This thought had barely formed in Charlot’s mind when Andreas hurled the knight’s lance.

The weapon streaked through the air like lightning, accompanied by the piercing cry of a phoenix. A terrifying intent radiated from the lance, locking onto Charlot’s very soul and giving him an unavoidable sense of doom.

If nothing intervened, Charlot would undoubtedly die from this attack.

Chloe, unable to bear the sight, thought to herself, “I’ll make sure to collect your remains.”

“I just hope Andreas’s strike doesn’t leave too much of a mess.”

Charlot remained motionless, but his loyal servant Herolf slowly drew out the Titanic Whale, twisting it in midair. Just as Andreas’s lance was about to pierce Charlot, the plain knight’s lance was shattered into countless fragments by the old goat’s skillful maneuver.

Charlot knew that Titanic Whale in Herolf’s hands was far more lethal than when he wielded it himself. Since he had no lack of suitable weapons, he had returned the high-grade extraordinary knight’s lance to the former Golden Rams leader.

Herolf had easily deflected Andreas’s attack, but his expression remained stoic. Since pledging loyalty to Charlot, the once-proud pirate king of the Aggras Sea had fallen into silent despair, never speaking a word again.

Reality had been far too cruel to Herolf, and the blow to his pride was devastating.

Were he to visit any major city’s psychiatric hospital back on Earth, he would undoubtedly be diagnosed with severe depression, acute anxiety, and symptoms of withdrawal. Whether such a diagnosis was accurate or not was irrelevant—he was clearly suffering.

Herolf’s intervention stunned both armies.

When Andreas first appeared, despair had gripped the ranks of the West Wind Knight Order. Many looked to Charlot, hoping their commander could once again turn the tide as he had before.

No one had expected him to succeed, but Herolf’s decisive action restored morale instantly. Smiles broke out across the ranks of the West Wind Knight Order.

“A Saint rank? So what?”

“We’ve got one too!”

Nobody questioned the origin of their Saint rank.

Andreas, visibly shocked that his perfect attack had been so easily nullified by an unassuming old man by Charlot’s side, spoke for the first time on the battlefield. His voice was extraordinarily melodious, like the song of the most beautiful birds of the forest.

“Who are you? A Saint rank doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. I’ve never heard of anyone like you among the Fars Empire’s Saint ranks. Don’t hide in obscurity.”

Herolf remained indifferent, as if he hadn’t heard Andreas’s words.

Charlot quickly smoothed over the tension, calling out, “He’s always like this—doesn’t talk much to me either.”

“But you—you tried to kill me the moment we met!”

“Well, I won’t stand on ceremony with you.”

Charlot patted Herolf on the shoulder and commanded, “Go all out and take down this bastard.”

“To think he’d try to kill me the first time we meet. Such impudence!”

Herolf’s face twitched slightly. He very much wanted to say, “Is there anyone in the world more impudent and unreasonable than you?”

The old goat pushed away the painful thoughts, not daring to dwell on them further. Otherwise, he feared he might start crying.

Once a proud pirate king, ruler of the Titanic Whale, and master of legendary warships like the Queen Bee, Herolf now found himself reduced to servitude.

Rising steadily into the air, Herolf leveled Titanic Whale, channeling all his anguish into a single assault.

The oceanic combat energy within him surged powerfully, building momentum as he advanced. By the time he reached midair, he exuded an overwhelming battle aura as vast and mighty as the sea itself.

Andreas hadn’t expected this seemingly ordinary old man to launch such a ferocious attack. His strength was overwhelming, ranking exceptionally high even among Saint ranks.

Andreas didn’t dare to face him head-on. Their fighting styles were entirely different.

Herolf’s oceanic combat energy and magic hybrid made each strike carry the force of crashing waves, while Andreas relied on agility and precision. Direct confrontation wasn’t his forte.

Unwilling to let Herolf build his momentum to its peak, Andreas suddenly ascended into the sky, aiming for a high-altitude clash...

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