Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 855 - 92 Endgame_2

Chapter 855: Chapter 92: Endgame_2 Chapter 855: Chapter 92: Endgame_2 Following closely behind their leader, the Terdun men successively fell into pits, their horses crying out in anguish with broken fetlocks.

Some lucky enough to get through the pits looked back and realized their fellow tribesmen hadn’t kept up; they reined in their warhorses and hesitated to move forward.

“[Herde Language] Don’t stop!” White Bull grasped the banner, struggled to his feet with the flagpole, and shouted desperately, “[Herde Language] Charge! Kill!”

The ensuing events, to a certain extent, fulfilled White Bull’s wish.

Although his men dared not forcefully charge the bipedal army’s formations, the bipedal army charged toward them.

The battle flag dipped thrice, the small drums sounded off like hail.

On the second line of the right flank, the various units fully deployed, disregarding the ongoing battle in front, shouting as they attacked the circling Terdun light cavalry.

...

…

In the center of the battlefield, the main force of the Iron Peak County Military.

The man on the black horse finally spoke, “It’s time.”

A true melee would not last long and was extremely uncontrollable.

A flag falling, a soldier fleeing, an odd silence… any minute sign could trigger a cascading defeat.

Once the battle reached this stage, what kept both sides on the field was no longer skill in slaughter but sheer willpower.

Yet willpower was intangible, and no one could tell when it might falter—perhaps never, or perhaps in the next moment.

Currently, Iron Peak County Military’s left wing had not achieved an overwhelming victory.

Although the Terdun Cavalry was split and surrounded, they still fought fiercely. It was a stalemate, with no one daring to predict who would collapse first.

Iron Peak County Military’s right wing displayed two trends simultaneously.

The heavy cavalry, dispatched last minute by the roaster, swept through the first line of the right wing like a wrecking ball.

The heavily armored cavaliers, both riders and warhorses, were practically invulnerable, scattering the “Young Soldier’s” formation as soon as they crossed the trenches.

Facing the armored cavalry, the militia was helpless. With each barrier breached, half a unit would completely collapse.

On the second line of the right wing, the adult soldiers were similarly slaughtering the dismounted Terdun men.

Knowing there were pits ahead, the circling Terdun light cavalry dared not move recklessly.

Those Terdun men staying behind tried to navigate around the pit belt but found the pits scattered all the way into the forest.

The dismounted Terdun men were forced into infantry combat with Iron Peak County’s militia, who held an absolute advantage in numbers and quickly pushed them back.

The strongest part of Iron Peak County forces, the central unit, was entangled by over a thousand Terdun light cavalry.

What the roaster was thinking was clear to any discerning observer.

“[Bad horse against good horse, good horse against average horse],” the roaster used part of his main force to pin down Iron Peak County Military’s left wing, drew the central force with his weakest men, and then aimed to crush Iron Peak County Military’s right wing with his strongest troops.

Once the first line of the right wing collapsed in a total rout, the adult soldiers on the second line could hardly stand alone.

Whether it was [flanking the left wing] or [hitting the central unit], it made essentially no difference; it was just a different way to execute the kill.

The battle irreversibly tipped towards a favorable outcome for the Terdon Tribe unless… there was another fresh force.

“What are you waiting for?” the man on the black horse asked again, his voice now stern, “Your right wing is about to completely collapse!”

Winters gazed intently ahead, to the north, to that small hill.

Several riders raced along the ridge and finally stopped, vigorously waving a yellow flag.

“The Terdun people have used up their reserves,” Winters confirmed this fact at last, turning to the black horse rider, “If there’s to ever be a decisive moment in this battle that could determine the outcome, it appears to be now… Colonel Gessa.”

Colonel Gaisa Adonis lifted his faceplate, revealing cheeks marked with fearsome scars, and laughed heartily, “That’s exactly what I came for.”

Good Fortune Gold had brought Winters luck, only this time, the “good fortune” had no hair.

Behind the main unit, tents were sequentially pulled down, and cavalrymen in elaborate uniforms led stalwart horses in procession.

From the absurdly large bear skin hats, brightly patterned tunics, and their defiant expressions, it was clear they were Piaoqi Troops— not Andre’s kind of knock-offs, but the genuine Piaoqi from Paratu.

In addition to Piaoqi troops, there were also a few half-armored lancers.

This cavalry was the luck that Gold brought, reinforcements sent by Colonel Bod, a power unexpected at this battlefield, and the very reason Winters dared to engage the Terdun Tribe in a field battle.

“Tell your men to clear the way,” Gessa replaced his faceplate, “I’m off to meet their chieftain.”

“No,” Winters shook his head gently, “You should go to the left flank—leave fifty good men for me.”

Gessa’s face was hidden behind his helmet, his expression unseen, but his resolute reply came through, “Alright.”

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The two units placed on the left side of the central force quickly converged, creating a gap.

The soldiers, carrying planks, jumped into the trenches and used their bodies as pilings to construct several bridges allowing the cavalry to cross.

Without another word, Gessa raised his battle sword high, took his position at the forefront of the cavalry, and commanded, “Follow me!”

“Uukhai!”