Knight: Becoming King of the World

Some of you might be wondering, why didn’t they just run?

An excellent thought!

In a situation like this, running was an impossible luxury. The moment they turned to flee, Henry’s army would cut them down as swiftly as cheetahs chasing prey.

Their backs would become the enemy’s best targets, and their lives would end in an instant.

Therefore, even as fear and despair spread through their hearts, most soldiers still chose to resist.

Even if resistance also meant death, at least there was still a sliver of hope for survival, wasn’t there?

Perhaps they could find a gap to break through, perhaps they could hold out until reinforcements arrived, perhaps they could find a chance to escape in the chaos...

The soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, their palms slick with nervous sweat. Now was not the time to give up. Some began to exchange fleeting, encouraging glances.

Among these soldiers, there were some who chose not to resist. They gave up, either because their injuries were too severe or because their spirits had broken.

They sat quietly on the ground, awaiting the judgment of fate. There was no fear left in their eyes, only a profound sense of helplessness.

Unfortunately, their enemies were merciless. Whether they dropped their weapons, sat, or knelt on the ground, they were cut down all the same.

The clamor of the battlefield seemed to stir the very heavens. The once-scorching sun was suddenly obscured by dark clouds, as if the sky itself could not bear to witness such a cruel slaughter.

The sunlight was devoured, and the temperature on the battlefield plummeted. The soldiers felt an indescribable chill in their hearts.

This chill did not come merely from the change in temperature, but more from the stench of death that permeated the battlefield.

Although the seasonal temperatures had been gradually rising and most of the snow had already melted, the soldiers’ breaths still condensed into small puffs of white mist in the air.

Every breath was like inhaling a blast of icy air that pierced straight to the heart and lungs.

The dark clouds grew ever denser, churning in the sky as if in response to the slaughter on the battlefield.

The wind began to blow fiercely, howling across the battlefield, kicking up dust and blood, and carrying the stench of death to every corner.

Battle banners snapped in the wind, sounding what seemed to be a final dirge for this battle.

Under this cold, bleak sky, the soldiers of the Anti-Henry Alliance felt an unprecedented despair.

They looked up at the sky; the dense, dark clouds seemed a symbol of their fate—oppressive and inescapable.

The dark clouds in the sky sank lower and lower, as if at any moment they might press down and swallow the entire battlefield.

On the right flank of Henry’s army, the offensive was like a tempest, fierce and relentless. The enemy threw down their arms and armor, trying to flee the deadly battlefield.

However, the soldiers of Henry’s allied nobles gave them no such chance. They quickly subdued the enemy, stripped them of their armor and weapons, and then herded the defeated like livestock toward the rear.

The situation on the left flank was much the same. Henry’s soldiers displayed a combat prowess and discipline that made their masters, the nobles, exclaim in astonishment.

In this area, large numbers of prisoners were likewise disarmed. They were gathered together to await their fate.

At this moment, Henry’s side revealed their powerful reserve forces. Although they were fighting outnumbered, their reserves had yet to be committed to the battle.

This was terrifying and completely illogical!

These reserves included well-trained soldiers as well as a large number of serfs and Auxiliary Soldiers, who could perform various support tasks on the battlefield, such as carrying the wounded, guarding prisoners, and clearing the field.

As the fighting in the center of the battlefield gradually subsided, the sounds of slashing and clashing metal could no longer be heard across the plain.

A heavy silence pervaded the battlefield, broken only by the occasional groan and wail.

The soldiers stood exhausted on the battlefield, their weapons stained with blood, their faces etched with fatigue and numbness.

The war was finally over.

Henry’s victory was, unexpectedly, overwhelming. Not only had they successfully crushed the imposing enemy Alliance Army’s assault, but they had also captured a massive number of enemy troops.

This victory not only solidified Henry’s position on the battlefield but also paved the way for his future.

Are you kidding? A battle like this was destined to become a legend. In the future, any fool who thought of crossing them would have to slap themselves silly first just to clear their head!

In the rear of the battlefield, the captured soldiers were gathered together, deeply uneasy.

They did not know what fate awaited them. Some soldiers prayed silently, hoping for forgiveness, hoping for a chance to start over.

But they had no real hope. This time, the enemy seemed entirely different—they were practically inhuman.

Calvin and the other nobles stood in their various positions, their gazes piercing through the thin mist of blood to fix on the tall, dark figure standing in the center of a pile of corpses.

That was Henry. In the dim light, his figure appeared even more aloof and powerful.

Complex emotions surged within Calvin. He looked at Henry, at the Warrior who had reaped lives on the battlefield like a god of death, and could not help but feel a profound sense of awe.

Henry’s strength, his decisiveness, and... his madness were all on full display in this battle.

Calvin knew that their victory was owed more to Henry’s near-legendary martial prowess than anything else.

Calvin looked at the numerous nicks on his own battle-axe. ’Can someone really get this strong just by training hard?’

The other nobles were similarly silent, their eyes filled with reverence for Henry.

Many of them had harbored doubts before the battle began, but now, those doubts had vanished like smoke, replaced by wild ecstasy.

They looked at Henry as if they were looking at an undefeated War God, a leader who could guide them to victory.

"He’s really... too powerful," a noble murmured to himself.

"Yes, he’s not just powerful. On the battlefield, he’s practically a... legend," replied the Knight who had fought beside him.

At that moment, they had completely forgotten that the Emperor disliked the church, directly using the kinds of miracle stories propagated by the church to describe Henry.

"We made the right choice. Following Henry, we will be fearless."

Most of the nobles were now excited beyond measure. They had actually won! They had won a war that almost everyone expected them to lose!

By following Henry, they would be able to achieve even more victories. Their families would prosper and flourish because of it.

Being a Baron or a Knight wasn’t so bad, but with more villages and manors, more subjects in their fiefs, the ability to earn more Dinars, or to repair their motte-and-bailey castles—or even build a stone one—the sky would be the limit!

The battle was over, but Henry’s figure still stood among the piles of corpses. His gaze swept across the entire battlefield, as if he were inspecting his army.

Under the bleak sky, his silhouette was like a statue of an invincible War God.

Calvin and the other nobles began to walk down from the small hill. They were going to see Henry in person, to express their respect and loyalty.

Just then, the dark clouds in the sky began to shift, and an enormous, humanoid Black Shadow, seemingly clad in a black helmet and armor, began to appear.

However, the two horns on the Black Shadow seemed sturdier and longer than the pair on Henry’s helmet.

Moreover, the Black Shadow seemed to be... sitting on something?

Was it a chair?

At this moment, everyone—whether they were the victorious nobles and soldiers on Henry’s side, the bound prisoners, or the fleeing nobles and Cavalry of the Anti-Henry Alliance—stared wide-eyed at the magical, shocking scene unfolding in the sky.

"What is that..."

Count Akakarat stood on the city wall, watching the human figure coalescing from the black clouds in the sky, and fell deep into thought.