Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 622 - 394: Seizing the City
"Look what I found?"
"A damned, cowardly, honorless deserter!"
Contrary to Gallio's imagination, to the eyes of these deformed "Werewolves", those who haven't drunk the magic potion are as conspicuous as the sun in the night.
Perhaps it's from often drinking this potion, or perhaps it's an extraordinary talent, the man appearing behind him is very different from his deformed companions, with muscles so robust they seem to burst through his clothes, black hair growing all over, an elongated jawbone, a bloody mouth, and bits of flesh hanging from his fangs.
Most likely not an enemy.
Because the enemies haven't even climbed the city walls.
He's from the City Guard Army... the Supervision Team!
He looks like a genuine werewolf, a product pieced together from the malformed body parts of those "defective products".
It's over!
I'm going to die!
Gallio's mouth dropped open in terror, his body slumped on the ground, moving backward uncontrollably.
But fear, sometimes when it reaches its peak, can turn into anger.
His chest was heaving, his face twisted due to his complete loss of control over his expressions, covered in tears and mucus.
What's wrong with just wanting to live?
I have no family, no friends. The upper-class people living in this wealthy city look at us as if we are dogs, how does this city's prosperity and wealth have anything to do with us?
Why should I die for these people?
The intense anger made him grip the magic potion pouch tightly in his hand.
He was ready to fight for his life.
A desperate fight from someone from the bottom rung!
However.
With a loud bang.
A crossbow arrow exploded the pouch in his hand, spraying the blood-red liquid everywhere.
Next to the werewolf of the Supervision Team, a werewolf with an indifferent expression was casually reloading a hand crossbow.
A contemptuous smile appeared on the face of the Supervision Team werewolf, as if his resistance, his struggle to survive, was such a ridiculous thing— the desperate counterattack of a civilian, a coward? Merely a joke.
"Ah!"
He shouted, wildly swinging the weapon in his hand, even if it felt as futile as an ant trying to shake a tree.
The wind whistled.
The werewolf's broad palm extended sharp claws, easily slicing his inferior weapon, issued from the armory because he couldn't provide one himself, into two pieces.
The difference was just too immense.
He was just an ordinary civilian, wielding an inferior longsword borrowed from the armory; the opponent, however, was one of Lord Jabri's elite personal guards, who did nothing but train their combat skills besides eating, drinking, and having fun.
Moreover, the opponent probably drank more magic potions than these cannon fodder soldiers—if that really was magic potion.
The sharp claws ripped through the air, lunging toward his chest.
The distance between them was so close that he could almost smell the stench coming from between the opponent's yellowing sharp teeth.
"I'm going to die."
Despair engulfed Gallio's heart.
…
But in actual fact.
He wasn't the one who died.
Instead, it was that arrogant werewolf from the Supervision Team that died.
Its huge, ferocious wolf head was sliced off by a longsword, rolling to his feet, with foul-smelling blood splattering all over him.
Behind it stood a Crusader Knight.
He wore a white cloak with a black cross badge, a winged helmet like bull horns that completely obscured his face, and his cloak was puffed up by the iron armor beneath it, making him look like a towering moving iron tower.
It's almost unimaginable how he got onto the city walls, could he have jumped directly from the siege tower?
The Knight glanced at Gallio, who was full of fear, then at the corpse on the ground. He quickly realized what had happened here, sighed and remarked "dust of the times," and drew a cross over his chest.
He said, "Little one, keep hiding here, if you encounter the Crusaders, lay down your weapon and surrender, they won't trouble a small soldier like you."
Losa's main army has its military discipline under control.
Even though he had neither the time nor ability to restrain all the Crusaders to act according to his standards, and often turned a blind eye to the pillaging actions of different Crusader factions, it didn't mean his main elite troops were the same.
"Really, really?"
"I have no reason to deceive you."
The Crusader Knight, who looked like a Hell Killing God wearing the horned helmet, had a surprisingly gentle voice.
He also spoke the Coptic Language quite well!
Gallio marveled at this, hurriedly got up, and imitated the Knight's gesture of drawing a cross over his chest: "Praise the Heavenly Father, may the Heavenly Father bless you, generous Knight."
The Knight waved his hand, disappearing from his sight.
Gallio let out a sigh of relief.
When he finally gathered enough courage to look outside again, the city walls were already littered with corpses.
And the horned helmeted Knight was already wielding a frightening two-handed sword, battling to the other end of the city wall, a half-deformed werewolf attempted to attack him, yet was bisected in the blink of an eye.
He shivered all over.
"Monsters, these Crusaders, the Franks, and those werewolves, they're all monsters!"
"This is a fight among monsters, it has nothing to do with ordinary people like us!"
…
The city gate was breached.
The counterattack from the top of the city also came increasingly under pressure from the Hans, who had fought their way onto the wall, and the armored archers shooting from higher positions.
Hence.
A complete assault began.
The Knights formed into an infantry formation, raising kite shields—compared to the square shields used by the veteran detachments, these shields were undoubtedly lighter and more flexible, the bottom end could also be planted into the ground, saving energy. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢
The formation of Knights rapidly advanced towards the city gate.
The melee weapons they used were varied, nail head hammers, Armed Swords, hand half swords, War Axes...
Some Germanic Knights completely discarded their shields, relying only on their sturdy armor for defense, wielding a Two-Handed Giant Sword, they charged into the city and commenced slashing enemies.
Even half-deformed werewolves could potentially have their necks chopped off by the sheer force of such a weapon.
But within the city walls, there was no room to use those long-handled weapons, short swords, or even daggers, or even teeth—the gatekeeping soldiers did indeed gain exceptional strength from the magic potion.
But their base level strength was still where it was, no matter how strengthened, it wasn't incredibly strong. Instead, due to their loss of rationality, and being weakened by Lavinia, in terms of individual combat prowess, they were less powerful than the Crusader Cavalry who had multiple enhancements.
The tide of battle quickly tilted completely in favour of the Franks.
In several key points on the city walls, bright Crusader banners were hoisted.
Venezia bit Jabri's shoulder fiercely, causing the black werewolf on the opposite side pain, furiously kicking this cockroach-like tenacious werewolf away, clutching his shoulder, almost torn half off, with eyes that seemed to burst into flames.
"Distracted while fighting me?"
Venezia spat a mouthful of blood, spitting out the chunk of meat he bit off from the black werewolf.
The black werewolf's shoulder rapidly regenerated flesh, in contrast, Venezia's battered body was also healing swiftly.
This guy wasn't his match at all!
Whether it was strength, speed, or defense, he was far superior to this "kind" of opponent. Yet in terms of combat skills, he was sorely lacking!
Initially, Jabri wasn't a werewolf at all.
Not that people hadn't seen him manifest in werewolf form, but those who had seen this side of him basically ended up dead.
The curse granted him enough substantial power.
But there were too few opportunities to hone this power, in contrast to the opponent—the werewolf from the Frank's side seemed born to be a werewolf, tail, claws, arms, legs, every part of him was a weapon.
Moreover, he seemed tireless.
Even though the battle was extremely fierce, they'd fought from one city gate to another side of the walls.
The opponent not only showed no sign of fatigue, but with many wounds on his body, seemed to fight even more fiercely!
