Bear School Astartes-Chapter 654 - 657. Suppression力

The impact Lann brought when he stepped onto the front battlefield was unprecedented.

The Interstellar Warrior’s combat style seemed to approach the legendary horror stories brought to life for mortals.

That kind of precision to the point of coldness, combined with ferocious execution, was so overwhelming that even the Northern Alliance Army, who had confirmed him as an ally, dodged to the sides as if avoiding a high-speed train when Lann passed by.

Only those ’Embers’ following behind Lann, who he had led for a long time, seemed to endure this fear and avoidance out of genuine reverence, and instead charged alongside him.

Gradually, many among the vast number of Niflgaard’s routed soldiers recognized this highly recognizable figure.

After all, on Lann’s way through to Niflgaard’s command, they had broken through a dozen positions and merely scattered the organization, leaving many alive.

These routed soldiers passed on the stories of this troop by word of mouth.

Being forcibly scattered in their organization was an incredibly painful thing for the soldiers inside it.

Precisely this oppressive atmosphere within the feudal army twisted the soldiers’ psyches, making them feel extremely insecure.

Thus, the organized army they were in at the start of the battle, representing the greatest violence in the world, had instead become their sense of security.

And being broken up meant watching their support being wiped out with open eyes for those who already lacked security.

The psychological torment was indescribable.

When their hearts feel uneasy, the natural inclination is to share.

So they began to describe how the enemy’s army was as swift as the wind, how well-coordinated, and most importantly... how monstrous their leader was!

On the path of retreat, these people had been rambling for a long time.

Until now...

On a battlefield like a sea of people, staring at a warrior taller than ordinary men, brandishing a terrifying large sword.

Each swing would send countless limbs and whatever aloft.

"We can’t win... That demon can kill a hundred people with a swing of his sword! No one can beat him!"

Some Niflgaard people despairingly and numbly let go of the weapons in their hands, shouting neurotically.

Aside from using special swordsmanship and the enemies aligning perfectly, Lann could not achieve the extent of slaying a hundred with one swing.

But in the eyes of those terrified by his silhouette, it looked like a hundred people!

"That’s a demon with a Demon Sword! No one can..."

"Bam! Get out of my way!"

Most of the fierce and cornered soldiers had never encountered Lann and the ’Embers’ on the battlefield.

So they directly knocked aside the dazed soldiers, leaving those soldiers trampled by the crowd.

"So what if he’s taller? We’ve killed giants on the mountains of Sintra!"

A fierce soldier who had been part of Sintra patrols and monster hunts threw a ruthless stare at the well-built ’Little Giant’, weighing the broken spear in his hands.

"Warlock! Give me a hand!"

Amid mayhem, a southern Warlock beside him enveloped the spearhead with a greenish glow.

And the Warlock’s hand itself flickered with a foul-smelling magical light.

"Such a big size..."

The fierce soldier bent back like a bow, gripping the broken spear.

"Isn’t it just for hitting!"

With a "whoosh".

The fierce soldier’s face revealed a confident smile.

Those who practiced frequently would have a feel right after throwing, which instinctively informs whether they’ll hit or not before the projectile lands.

This soldier’s feeling told him—it was assured.

But, the smile under the winged helmet hadn’t even fully bloomed...

He saw the ’Little Giant’ casually glance over.

In a mere moment of eye contact, he suddenly felt something slam into his chest, flinging him backward violently.

"What... happened?"

His eyes only reacted then, looking at his chest.

And on his chest, a familiar broken spear shaft, left a tail outside his thick chest armor.

He didn’t even react to how Lann caught the thrown object, then threw it back in a fluid motion.

"He seems... truly like a demon."

Finally, that was the only thought left in the fierce soldier’s mind.

And what about the Warlock casting spells with the thrown spear?

Lann’s eyes sharpened when he noticed the foul magical light.

His right hand’s [Turbid Current] swept across a section, the surrounding Niflgaard soldiers being sent flying like a wave.

Meanwhile, he grasped the Lady of the Lake’s Sword at his waist with his left hand.

A flash of golden light, the foul magical light split neatly into two.

The skill of cutting through magic with a sword, even amid chaotic battle, genuinely stunned the southern Warlock.

But Lann wouldn’t freeze in place.

The magic ball split in mid-air hadn’t yet fully dissipated when spiral airflow enveloped his legs.

[Heartless Flow: Shrink Ground]!

With a "slash", the air was pierced with a sharp noise!

When Lann appeared again like smoke, the southern Warlock’s neck had already been gashed open.

And after Lann dealt with the Warlock, the ’Embers’ charged effortlessly, starting the sweep.

The blood on the blue lion flag of Sintra grew thicker and more plentiful.

"Thirty-second."

With a ’click’, Lann sheathed the Lady of the Lake’s Sword at his left waist, counting silently.

Niflgaard indeed deployed many low-ranking Warlocks.

He had just cleared thirty-two Warlocks since attacking from the base of a hillside to its midway point.

The resulting consequence was that although the battlefield below the hillside was still chaotic between the two armies, the difference in victory was becoming apparent.

The Niflgaard people hadn’t sighted friendly magical lights for quite a while.

Never had they wanted so desperately to see those ’tricksters’ cast magic.

Their weapon-wielding movements became less fierce and decisive, the advance with shields became hesitant.

Mental state reflected in actions results in significant combat power reduction.

With similar basic qualities, one mind set on wounding, one thinking it’s good enough—being obliterated upon first encounter is possible.

This is what is termed ’turmoil of the heart’.

Thus, when hearts are unsettled, generals often refuse to march out.

But now, these people were getting scared on the battlefield.