CHAPTER 166: CHAPTER 15: ONE AGAINST A HUNDRED

Brand pulled out the Azure Light Piercing, the leaf-shaped Elf Sword pointing distantly towards the battlefield, ordering his knights to prepare to enter. Over seventy meters away, there was no imagined headlong charge; the riders tightened their reins, keeping their warhorses in small strides. More than fifty cavalry crossed a small forest and appeared on the other side in the empty sight of the skeleton soldiers.

The Black Knight Sasar immediately felt a tremendous headache. He couldn’t help but urge the warhorse beneath him into a trot, waving his heavy Fine Steel Longsword, shouting over the white forest of bones:

"Turn, turn, you idiots!"

"Third row, fourth row, level your spears, quick, maggots!"

He cursed venomously with a hollow, raspy voice, dividing the skeleton soldiers under his command into two parts. One part met Frey’s Self-defense Corps, while the other prepared to engage the human cavalry that had suddenly appeared on the other side.

Spears rose and then ’clattered’ downwards, the first row pointing obliquely upward, the second row’s points extending over the shoulders of the first, forming a forest of steel.

Brand watched those chilling spear tips, his face unchanged—He seemed accustomed to the tension before battle, and there wasn’t a trace of fear on his tense face. The young man was just adjusting his breathing, preparing for the impending war.

Looking at the skeletons, he felt this scene was no different from a game—annihilating a squad of Madara, the commander akin to a wandering elite monster of similar level. Every such event had always been very rewarding. Most squad leaders of the Madara Undead Army possessed Black Iron Middle or higher power, approximately equivalent to level twenty to thirty in the game if the setting hadn’t changed—he might see Subordinate Magic Equipment above level twenty.

The Elf Sword in Brand’s hand continued to point towards Sasar’s flank like a constraint, commanding his knights to maintain a steady pace, slowly turning along a tangent, constantly approaching the side of the skeleton soldiers’ formation.

His steadiness gave Sasar a headache. This Black Knight could instantly tell his opponent was a veteran cavalryman and an experienced cavalry commander—skilled cavalrymen won by cooperating with infantry—forcing the opponent to change formation continuously, adjust direction, and find gaps for an effective lethal strike. A novice would only recklessly charge forward, ending up with a broken head and bloodied face.

Sasar had already made his skeleton soldiers turn about a hundred and twenty degrees along Brand’s advance. The skeletons turned slowly, and reorganizing the formation was extremely troublesome, requiring almost all eleven Corpse Witches in his squad. Sometimes the Black Knight even worried if his thin rear line could withstand Frey’s Self-defense Corps’ assault.

After the fourth volley of arrows by the Skeleton Archers, they began firing freely—

The militia descending the mountain had approached within ten meters. These mixed troops, consisting of citizens, White Mane Corps Light Infantry, and mercenaries, had their first row filled with faces from different regions—mostly Buqi people, but also Anlek people and mountain folks. Faces of these young and middle-aged men showed varying degrees of fear and nervousness.

In the cold night, their breaths formed white mists, creating a wall that blurred everything behind.

They held wooden long spears or Madara’s Nethersteel Longswords, gripping too tightly to the point of stiffness and deformation, breathing erratically, but were pushed forward by those behind them—moving forward subconsciously.

Directly in front of them was a chilling field of bones. The Undead would never feel fear, nor would they be roused to excitement. They stood motionless, one after another: hands holding spears, without joy, without sorrow, not thinking, calm as still water, with only the hollow orange Soul Fire burning within their eye sockets.

It was precisely this kind of enemy that invoked dread.

A girl with a long ponytail watched the enemy forces anxiously from her horse. This future Valkyrie knew that if things continued, her side would be the first to collapse. She gritted her teeth, made her horse turn on the spot—then raised her Longsword high, plunging like a green lightning bolt into the gap between the two sides.