Knight: Becoming King of the World

The roaring of the war drums on the battlefield seemed to play a tragic score for the Viscount’s charge.

His Riding Spear, an old companion, pointed toward the frenzied enemy. His lone figure stood out on the battlefield.

Henry was slaughtering men by the score, and the rout was undeniable. And yet, the old Viscount had just entered the fray, a magnificent sight to behold!

The Viscount’s charge was valiant, but in this brutal war... the strength of one man was insignificant.

His Personal Guard followed close behind, their eyes shining with loyalty to the Viscount and fearlessness in the face of death.

This might be their final battle, but they still chose to fight alongside the Viscount until the very last moment.

’The old master has treated us well for the past ten, twenty years. If we acted like those serfs and common soldiers, would we even be human?’

However, while the Viscount’s charge seemed to be a great morale booster, it failed to ignite the fighting spirit of the other nobles as he had hoped.

Many of them had already lost too much in this battle; their courage and strength were all but spent.

They watched the Viscount’s back, a flicker of respect rising in their hearts, but it was overshadowed by uncertainty about the future.

’What... will become of our future?’

Some of the noble Knights began to quietly retreat. If they continued to fight, both their lives and the futures of their families would be forfeit.

’They say a starved camel is still bigger than a horse, but if that camel is stripped to the bone and its marrow sucked dry, with not even scraps left behind, then forget being bigger than a horse—you might end up worse off than a common farmer or one of the town’s Free People!’

’If we charged in like the Viscount, we’d be left with less than nothing!’

’The Viscount has a complete line of succession and defensive structures like earthen forts on his fief. But what about us? What are we supposed to do? Some of us don’t even have children yet!’

They began to consider their escape routes, planning how to preserve themselves and their family fortunes after the defeat.

This defeat wasn’t just a failure on the battlefield; it was a turning point in their destinies...

’Dammit, what possessed us to join the Anti-Henry Alliance in the first place?’

’If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now, worrying for our lives!’

The situation on the battlefield grew increasingly dire. In the center, Henry and his Heavy Armor Infantry continued their efficient slaughter. The Viscount’s charge, though valiant, was not enough to turn the tide.

Not only were they few in number, but their killing speed was no match for Henry’s.

The Viscount’s eyes were filled with determination. He roared, "For our families, for our future, we must fight to the end!"

Some routed soldiers and those who had lost their commanders began to rally around the Viscount. Dazed and disoriented officers gathered the remnants of their troops to prepare for a final stand.

Yes, not an attack, but a last stand!

The Viscount and his Personal Guard fought desperately within the enemy encirclement. Wherever their blades flashed, enemies fell or recoiled from the sharp assault.

But—he didn’t know if it was just his imagination—the number of enemies seemed to be growing, while the soldiers by his side dwindled.

Their fighting space shrank, and the Viscount’s stamina was gradually draining away.

Finally, during one charge, a Senior Infantryman with a long spear pierced the Viscount’s chest, knocking him from his warhorse.

The Viscount’s hand slowly released his weapon. His eyes remained open as his breathing stopped.

The Viscount’s death changed nothing about the battle. His Personal Guard fought on, offering the final proof of their loyalty to him.

Meanwhile, after seeing the other Knights flee, the remaining nobles began to retreat with their surviving Cavalry units.

’If we’re fast enough, we might be able to make it back to camp and grab our valuables...’

An unknown fire burned in Henry’s eyes, a flame that seemed to speak of his inner rage.

This was no mere figure of speech; a real flame was truly burning in Henry’s eyes!

The last thing anyone cleaved in two by Henry saw was a monstrous, humanoid figure with an unnerving fire blazing in its eyes, swinging a weapon at them.

The center of the battlefield had now become a hunting ground, where soldiers were rampaging in groups, indiscriminately slaughtering the enemy.

Theoretically, at this point, the soldiers should have been trying to make these routed enemies surrender. But they didn’t know what had come over them; they just felt an irritation looking at the enemy before them, a simple desire to cut and cleave something with the weapons in their hands.

The soldiers farther away from Henry had no particular thoughts or feelings about it, but seeing their comrades still fighting furiously, they didn’t dare to let up. They followed the main force, continuing to hunt down the enemy who had broken into scattered stragglers.

In their eyes, there was only the enemy, only the fight.

They were no longer fighting for victory but for catharsis, slaughtering to release some kind of rage that burned within their hearts.

The enemies still resisting were gripped by a fear beyond words. They had never seen such frenzied soldiers. There wasn’t a shred of hesitation in their eyes, only endless killing intent.

Henry’s fire seemed to have infected every soldier. They no longer considered taking prisoners, no longer considered the peace that would follow the war.

They only wanted to fight, only wanted to cut down every last enemy before them!

The corpses on the battlefield piled higher and rivers of blood flowed, but Henry and his soldiers seemed to feel nothing at all.

The situation was now clear. The soldiers of the Anti-Henry Alliance faced a brutal reality: they were completely surrounded!

The soldiers looked around, only to see an endless sea of enemy troops whose eyes revealed a cold, resolute look, without a trace of mercy.