Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 854 - 92 The Endgame

Chapter 854: Chapter 92 The Endgame Chapter 854: Chapter 92 The Endgame On the Western side of the battlefield, the left wing of Iron Peak County.

Dying warhorses neighed in agony, their warm blood making the earth somewhat muddy.

The heavily armored guards of Terdun were extremely difficult to kill; even when dragged from their saddles, they continued to wave their curved blades, roaring fiercely as they fought.

In the chaos of close combat, no one had time to aim for the gaps in the armor.

The militia swung their Stinger Hammers and flails wildly, beating the fallen barbarians until they were bludgeoned to death.

As a result, the vast majority of Terdun’s armored soldiers died from blunt trauma.

Their bodies were purple and blue, but intact, with hardly any sharp weapon wounds. The ultimate cause of death was massive bleeding in the subcutaneous tissue and organs.

...

It was a painful and slow way to die, but the problem was that it was too inefficient.

Meanwhile, a single blow from a Terdun blade could incapacitate an unprotected militiaman.

Monkey and two other militia members, like drunk men in a brawl, overpowered a muscular barbarian but had absolutely no idea how to kill him.

Just holding the barbarian down required all their strength. As the barbarian struggled desperately, they dared not relax their grip.

Soon, Lu Xirong’s roar reached their ears, “Get off!”

Following that, the militiaman straddling the barbarian was kicked away by the sergeant’s foot.

Lu Xirong swung a blunt logging axe and chopped viciously at the barbarian’s head.

The axe didn’t penetrate the helmet, but blood poured out from the barbarian’s nostrils and eyes, and he instantly stopped struggling.

Lu Xirong swung his axe again at the barbarian’s neck, just to make sure he did not come back to life.

The Terdun Cavalry attacking the left wing had been split into two:

The majority were trapped between two trenches; a minority were blocked outside the first trench.

The one who had bisected the flank of Terdun was none other than Anglu, leading his cavalry.

Anglu had long since discarded his curved saber—he found the curved blade good for slashing but less effective against armored soldiers than a straight sword.

With the cold gleam of his blade, Anglu parried the incoming curved swords by maneuvering his bone-sword handle.

As the weapons clashed, the curved sword was knocked out of position.

Seizing the moment, Anglu struck the enemy’s arm with his hilt, causing the Terdun soldier to scream and flee on his horse.

Without time to pursue the fleeing enemy, Anglu gently tugged his reins, and his red-maned steed neighed as he charged towards another barbarian rider.

Things weren’t looking good—Iron Peak County’s cavalry was gradually losing ground.

In terms of equestrian combat, Iron Peak County’s horsemen were hardly a match for the skillful Herder riders. It was only the timing of their charge that had caught many from Terdun off-guard, causing them to scatter in panic.

Now, the psychological advantage brought by the ambush was rapidly diminishing.

Many fleeing Terdun Cavalry, seeing the battle was not entirely one-sided, turned back to fight.

“Aim for their horses!” on the edge of the battlefield, an Iron Peak County horseman waved a flag, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Fire!”

“Boom, boom, boom, boom.”

A series of muffled gunshots rang out; it was unclear how many Terdun Cavalry were hit.

“Reload!” the flag-wielding squad leader nearly broke his voice: “What are you looking at? Reload quickly!”

The horsemen, who had been eagerly searching for their victories, were startled awake and fumbled with ammunition, hurriedly reloading.

Some of Iron Peak County’s riders were so poor in horsemanship that Anglu had them carry muskets and fight on foot.

As the gunfire sounded, the Terdun Cavalry immediately noticed that small group at the edge of the battlefield.

A Hong Lingyu loudly called out, urging his horse out of the melee, followed by a dozen Terdun Cavalry.

Iron Peak County’s mounted musketeers hadn’t had time to remount and were scattered by the Terdun Cavalry.

Seeing this, Anglu immediately disengaged from the melee, leading his nearby men around the battlefield to come to their aid.

…

On the Eastern side of the battlefield, the right wing of the Iron Peak County Military.

“Everyone! Listen to the command! Attention!” Harsh cheers rose from various parts of the second line: “About—turn!”

The Iron Peak County militia faithfully executed the command, although some turned clockwise and others counter-clockwise, they all turned around anyway.

Thus, to the amazement of the bewildered Terdun light cavalry, the right wing of Iron Peak County’s second line performed a standard tactical maneuver—[about-turn].

The chaos that the Terdun had anticipated did not occur, as the various companies and battalions flipped neatly and cleanly.

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In an instant, a flanking ambush turned into a head-on confrontation, and now it was the accelerating Terdun who hesitated.

The Terdun leader [White Bull] clenched his teeth, urging his warhorse to speed up: “Herde Language Charge through them! Break them!”

What difference did it make if they turned around? Weren’t they still sandwiched from front and back?

Having led his men on a circuitous route for who knows how far, exhausting countless steeds, White Bull could not allow himself to be scared off just like that.

White Bull desperately raised his banner, bellowing with all his might: “Herde Language The gods watch over us!”

The thunder of hooves was so loud that the men could hardly hear their leader’s cries; they were guided only by the banner.

Then, White Bull’s warhorse stepped into a trap pit.

To be precise, a stretch of Horse Trap Pits laid out behind the lines of Iron Peak County’s army.

As a substitute for caltrops, Winters had arranged the horse traps strictly according to the manual: each pit had a diameter of a foot, a depth of two feet, and was fitted with sharpened stakes at the bottom; the pits were spaced a meter apart; and their overall formation was a staggered, checkerboard pattern.

The horse traps’ depth reached fifty meters so far, and if those tending the fires remained inactive, it would continue to be reinforced.

As the horse abruptly sank, White Bull was thrown from the saddle, instinctively clutching his neck and curling up to avoid breaking his spine, but still he was left battered and bloodied, and his banner slipped from his grasp.