Chapter 266 Chapter 263 Fire and Iron
The twelve Holy Grail Knights, using the momentum from their charge, stepped over the corpses of the minotaurs and began to slaughter on both sides.
Seeing this, George shouted, “Charge!”
Old White put aside any thoughts of laziness and charged forward with iron hooves, carrying George toward the gap torn open by the Holy Grail Knights.
The knights following him formed a wedge-shaped formation, like a sharp knife aiming for the gap in the beastmen’s left flank.
Before them stood a spear wall that had not been completely torn apart. From the horned beasts, dozens of imprecise giant rocks flew in the mist, hitting several knights. The unfortunate knights were thrown backward, falling to the ground, but they could not stop the iron tide.
Closer, even closer.
George could see the panic-stricken horned beasts at the front line gap. The clever horned beasts shouted orders to those holding spears, commanding them to quickly block the gap.
However, no one could ignore the flood of steel rushing in, let alone the twelve Holy Grail Knights wreaking havoc within the ranks. Who could confidently turn their back to the Holy Grail Knights?
Some horned beasts were in a state of panic, flailing about like headless flies, while others stared blankly at George with doe-like eyes, clutching their spears tightly, their legs clamped together, like shy young girls.
Killing enemies with almost no resistance felt less than glorious and boring.
But George thought of Quinas City, of the half-eaten corpses by the beastmen, and he aimed his lance at the dazed horned beast. With a thrust, he took its life, and Old White charged into the ranks, crashing through a group of beastmen.
Behind him, more steel-clad knights surged in, fast enough that all one could see were shadows of the war steeds rushing into the gap. All the horned beasts blocking the path fell beneath the knights’ lances, disappearing into the dust kicked up by the iron hooves.
The two layers of the formation were broken through one after another.
George’s horse smashed through the second layer of the formation, and before him was a large group of horned beasts fleeing for their lives.
Seeing the mounted knights, the third layer of spear-wielding horned beasts hesitated, shrinking back as the enraged George threw his lance and pulled out his sword, cursing at them, “Beasts!”
The third layer of spear-wielding horned beasts immediately turned to flee, and the knights surged forward, drawing swords to attack and dispersing the horned beasts.
But the beastmen’s formation was deep; George glanced at the cyclopes over a hundred meters away. Between them stood a large mass of brownish-yellow beastmen. Though they had lost their ability to resist the knights, breaking through the mass was not an easy task either.
All around were the shouts of the knights. Determined to carve a bloody path, George searched for horned beasts that looked like officers; wherever he saw a horned beast roaring orders, or wearing sturdy armor, or whatever horned beast seemed strong.
He would charge in and deliver a fatal blow.
No beast could stop George. Blood stained his iron gauntlets, and the black ribbons of his sword hilt soaked up blood.
With each kill, the pent-up anger in his chest diminished a little.
George became so absorbed in this behavior that when the green signal stick fell from the mist and he saw the red light, he initially did not care. It was only a few seconds later that he realized the different colors of the lights represented different meanings.
That red light was… a retreat signal!
Retreat?
George reined in his horse and looked around.
Knights and beastmen were in chaos.
The knights had lost their formation and were engaged in mixed combat with the beastmen. Victory seemed to favor the knights.
Even though the cyclopes indiscriminately hurled rocks at both sides of the melee, the knights were receiving magical support.
A fire vortex over ten meters high swayed side to side, drifting toward the cyclopes, leaving only charred corpses and smoldering earth in its wake.
In the mist, knights riding flying horses or hippogriffs swooped down like eagles, coordinating with the knights to take down the last few hard blocks leading to the cyclopes.
George saw the hazy figure of Jima flying through the mist.
She darted through the fog, shouting, “Retreat! Retreat!”
“Jima?”
“I foresaw it.” The dark-haired demon girl flapped her wings, shouting, “Demon knights! It’s the demon knights! They’re coming, quickly stop them.”
“Demon knights?”
George immediately raised his knight’s sword and roared, “Knights! Follow me! Back!”
With that, he kicked his horse and started moving backward.
At the same time, his knight’s sword emitted a bright red glow, flickering rapidly.
Jima covered her eyes with her hands and complained, “The light pollution is really annoying.”
The battlefield was in chaos, and George, holding his glowing sword, cut through the crowd. Knights streamed past him, with very few able to follow; most were his personal guards.
After all, victory was in sight; who would willingly give up easily obtainable glory to go against the tide?
But victory was merely a reflection in the lake.
In this left flank assault, King Richard the Lionheart mobilized all the forces he could command.
Nearly three thousand knights of the kingdom, each adept in combat and the core of the righteous army, had now lost their impact and were trapped within the beast horde, like a knife trapped by flesh and bone.
As they charged into the beast horde, slaughtering the beastmen, the overwhelming waves of beasts also trapped them.
At that moment, a force of destruction burst forth from the mist, aimed directly at the knights’ rear.
From behind the mist, a scattering of red blades lit up.
Armored demon horses charged through the mist with flaming iron hooves. On their backs rode black-armored demon knights, wielding crimson long spears and roaring as they descended upon the knights’ rear.
The knights in the back noticed the demon knights first and shouted for their goddess, charging toward the demon knights.
The demon knights swung and stabbed, their blood-red spear tips tracing bright arcs of death in the air.
The red spear tips pierced through the chests of the kingdom’s knights, either severing their noble heads or tearing them apart, no one could withstand even a second blow.
The death flood, comprising over fifty demon knights, pressed forward without any pause, successfully targeting the knights trapped in the beast horde.
Following the demon knights, a large group of barking battle mastiffs and angry horned beasts surged forth.
The battle mastiffs leaped up, pouncing on the surviving knights who had been brushed aside by the death flood, knocking them off their horses.
The demon knights first swept away the outer layer of kingdom knights like a razor, causing chaos, while the horned beasts charged forward.
The kingdom knights were momentarily enclosed in a pocket, and although it wasn’t tightly packed, many knights escaped from the gaps.
However, the kingdom knights could not gather together to launch a large-scale charge; only a mass charge could hope to match the demon knights.
What was frightening was that the maneuvering space for the kingdom knights was becoming increasingly small, with no room to charge, surrounded by disorganized knights scattering everywhere, some going east while others went west, unable to concentrate their strength.
After sweeping through once, the demon knights circled back, launching another destructive charge, like a revolving death spiral. Small clusters of knights would kill the demonized battle mastiffs or stab the horned beasts, but then they would immediately face the demon knights’ destructive onslaught, dying or scattering.
Moreover, the cyclopes came down with full firepower, continuously hurling giant rocks into the knight ranks, injuring knights and causing chaos.
The knights were horrified to discover that the beastmen, who had originally fled, had stopped and were instead surging up like yellow sludge, sticking to the knights.
At this point, George had just cut through a group of blocking horned beasts and emerged outside. He saw fallen knights being torn at by a pack of battle mastiffs, the ground ablaze, resembling hell itself.
George turned and asked, “Jima, where are the Holy Grail Knights?”
“I called a few; they should be here soon.” Jima covered her eyes, “Can’t you lower the brightness of your glowing sword?”
George sheathed his sword and pulled out a lance from his dimensional pocket.
He had fewer than a hundred knights with him, while in front lay a large group of horned beasts, along with the indistinct demon knights. He needed to gather enough strength to break through the encirclement, regroup the knights, and buy time.
The thought of how much time it would take made George restless.
Killing the cyclopes did not count as victory; they needed to kill the cyclopes and then encircle the Mother of All Beasts, consuming and slaying her to achieve victory.
In other words, they had to defeat the cyclopes before the camp was overrun.
But George did not lose his rationality. He looked to his military advisor and fiancée, lifted his visor, and directly asked, “Should I charge directly, or wait for reinforcements?”
“Wait.” Jima landed on the ground, wiping her blood-soaked axe on the scorched earth. “Sharpening the axe does not delay the cutting of wood.”
But then a bright red point began moving closer to George from behind the mist, the sound of thundering hooves penetrating the din of steel clashing on the battlefield reached his ears.
It seemed they had seen the flashing red light from George.
“I can’t wait any longer.”
George raised his lance and ordered, “Everyone! Prepare to charge!”
The knights fiercely dug their spurs into their horses’ flanks, and at this close distance, only a full-speed gallop would provide enough charge velocity.
The shapes of the demon knights emerged from the mist, their outlines becoming clearer. George saw the lead demon knight, who had a severed head dangling from his spear. After a few seconds, he recognized the head and exclaimed in shock:
“A Holy Grail Knight?”
A moon-white head hung from a blood-red spear, and that distinctive moon-white skin undoubtedly belonged to a Holy Grail Knight.
The knights charging at the front all noticed, and a wave of fear rose in their hearts; if even the Holy Grail Knights fell to the demon knights, who could withstand them?
George roared, “Level up!”
Shouting, he lowered and steadied his lance. Several terrified knights finally reacted, realizing they were about to collide.
Two torrents of iron were about to clash, a needle against a wheat awn.
“Boom!”
Accompanied by the whinnying of the steeds.
This was not the sound of steel colliding; it came from behind.
Jima, who was cursing, turned her head just in time to see a tumbling mass of giant rocks falling, with several unfortunate knights being struck down, thrown from their horses, side knights temporarily losing their courage, instinctively tightening the reins as the horses raised their front hooves high.
At this moment, Jima understood why the Holy Grail Knights also fell at the hands of the demon knights.
