When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

But the development of the situation still completely caught Lakunio off guard.

After spending half an hour reorganizing the formation, the cuirassiers finally temporarily retreated to the vicinity of the floating bridge.

The night wind rustled the leaves, and under Lakunio’s command, the vampire’s blood pact musketeers had already advanced to a place three hundred steps from the floating bridge.

Scarlet armor glinted coldly in the fog, arranged into six rows, with the barrels of their blood pact muskets gleaming dark red.

When the trigger is pulled, blood mist erupts from the barrel, propelling the lead bullets forward.

The previous shooting army, unprepared, had already suffered a setback.

"Form a phalanx! Crescent-moon axes as supports!" Aleksei dismounted, personally shouted, pulled out the crescent-moon axe from his waist, and stabbed it fiercely into the frozen ground.

The axe handle went half a foot into the ground, and the axe blade stood slanted, just right to support the heavy spring musket barrel.

Following Aleksei, hundreds of crescent-moon axes formed a line in the snow, the black muzzles of Kanni Di II models eliminated by the Holy Alliance aimed at the blood pact musketeers.

"Load! Wind the spring!"

"Creak—creak—"

The sound of bronze springs turning was exceptionally clear in the night.

Soldiers’ arm veins bulged as they wound the spring box to its tightest, fingers lightly resting on the trigger.

Suddenly a horn sounded from the vampire formation in the distance, and the front row of blood pact musketeers raised their muskets, blood mist erupting from the barrels instantly.

"Fire—" Baroque’s voice penetrated the thin fog and came.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Scarlet pellets flew with a bloody smell, some hitting the frozen earth and spraying mud, cutting a bloody line on the arm of the soldiers behind.

A young soldier didn’t dodge in time, hit on his shoulder armor by a pellet, let out a muffled groan and fell to the ground.

As if devoid of emotion, the soldier beside him immediately filled the gap, gripping the musket and continuing to aim.

The skirmishers on the sides immediately pulled out breech-loading spring muskets, firing at the vampire officers issuing orders.

Lead bullets whizzed through the fog, bursting into blood mist among the vampire officers.

Confirming the range was within the optimal shooting distance, Aleksei then shouted loudly, "Praise Holy Wind!"

Pulled the trigger, the dull roar of the heavy spring musket made eardrums ache, lead bullets flew out with a sound cutting through the air.

The armor of a front-line vampire cracked, blood spurted from his back, and he fell straight to the ground.

Other spring gunners fired in succession, bullets forming a patch, several of the second-line blood pact musketeers were knocked down before they could raise their muskets.

These low-level vampires, many hurriedly retreated, yet were urged forward by vampire officers in the rear.

The sound of the blood pact muskets rang again, unbelievably two pellets hit the heavy spring muskets, skewing two barrels.

In the night, the musket sounds rose and fell, blood mist mixed with water mist, even moonlight couldn’t penetrate.

The shooting army’s performance was completely beyond Lakunio’s expectations.

According to his predictions and the shooting army’s awkward performance during the first engagement, this time with the blood pact muskets, the battle should have been resolved in less than half an hour.

Yet now it’s been an hour, shooting army constantly crossing the floating bridge, but the vampire infantry phalanx is still mutually firing.

Understand, vampires can withstand damage far better than humans.

Although the blood pact muskets aren’t as powerful as heavy spring muskets, hitting the torso can still cause serious injuries or death.

In such a comparison of casualties, this group of shooting army unexpectedly displayed morale and organization comparable to the Salvation Army, forcibly halting the advancing vampires.

There was a touch of dawn on the horizon, the chill in the river wind dissipated, yet the morning fog thickened.

Aleksei stood by the floating bridge, counting numbers, the children safely crossed the river, shooting army lost fewer than five hundred people, much less than expected.

"Your Highness! The second-last batch of shooting army has started the river crossing!" Taiomir ran over, pointing at the floating bridge, "Lord Kutuyov instructs you to cross first, he will lead the last batch to cover the rear."

Aleksei nodded, knowing this was not the time for fake politeness, immediately accompanying the departing shooting army to cross the river.

Soon crossed the river, followed by part of the cuirassiers.

Unsure if it was an illusion, Aleksei felt the musket sounds were denser from that side.

As soon as the second-last batch of troops crossed the river, he saw Kutuyov charge over on horseback.

Blood still dripped from the old man’s cavalry saber, followed by nearly a hundred cuirassiers, the remaining cuirassiers and shooting army were already on the floating bridge.

Counting up, there were about four hundred cuirassiers and more than three hundred shooting army left on the opposite bank, currently fighting with blood knights who caught up.

"Quick! Cut the chains of the floating bridge! Set it aflame!" Kutuyov reined in his horse and shouted to the soldiers on the bridge.

"What? Hundreds of brothers are still on the other side!" Gloev immediately stepped forward, "Why sever the floating bridge now? There’s completely time to bring them back!"

"Fool, there’s no time." Kutuyov cursed, "If not done now, by the time they’re brought back will there still be a chance?"

"Isn’t this abandoning them?"

"They were all told it was the last batch to retreat, they’ve guessed it." Kutuyov’s words were icy cold, "Since they’ve guessed, but stayed behind, it means they accepted this result."

"These shooting army and dying cuirassiers are the treasures passed down by our Norn army!"

Kutuyov said nothing, just looked at Alexei.

Picking up the telescope, Alexei’s gaze fell on the opposite bank.

The Cuirassiers had their chests pierced by the Knights’ Longswords, yet they clung desperately to the Knights’ horse necks, allowing their companions behind to take the opportunity to kill the enemy.

Another young Cuirassier had his leg chopped and fell from his horse, immediately submerged by the Zombie Soldiers swarming over him.

His hand was trembling, his heart felt like it was gripped by something.

These were people who followed Kutuyov to save them, were former subordinates of Duke Petrov, were his compatriots.

A few days ago, they were still singing and dancing together, even cooking him the most delicious bear paw.

It was unimaginable how much these death-bound Cuirassiers cared for and anticipated him.

But he also knew he couldn’t wait.

The weakening of the Holy Wind meant a swarm of Vampire Gunners were heading toward the floating bridge.

If he continued to wait, not only would they seize the bridge, even half of it would be lost to them.

Not just those Cuirassiers and Shooting Army, even the Shooting Army and children who had already crossed the river might be caught up to.

He had already let down their care, he didn’t want to disappoint their expectations further.

"Cut off the floating bridge." Alexei’s voice was deep, yet without hesitation.

Gloev was stunned, wanting to speak but was stopped by Kutuyov.

The old man patted Alexei’s shoulder, his eyes carrying admiration.

The soldiers on the bridge gritted their teeth, raised their axes, and hacked down on the iron chains of the floating bridge.

With a crisp "clang", the first chain broke, one end of the bridge began to sink, and flames spread outward.

The Cuirassiers on the opposite bank saw this scene, did not curse, but instead quickened their charge.

When the last chain broke, the bridge completely collapsed, crushing and colliding together, floating downstream with the current, carrying countless flaming rafts.

It was like the funeral of ancient Norn heroes, where their bodies would be placed on small boats filled with firewood and set aflame by arrows shot by family.

At this moment, countless burning rafts were sailing toward the distance in the morning sun.

Those Cuirassiers and Shooting Army who hadn’t made it onto the bridge turned to face the pursuing Vampire Army, launching one final charge.

Alexei stood at the riverbank, watching their figures grow smaller until they were engulfed by the tide of Zombie Soldiers.

His eyes burned, yet no tears fell.

"Let’s go." After a moment of silence, Alexei turned and walked toward the direction of the rising sun.

Morning mist gradually dispersed, golden sunlight spilled over the reed clusters, lengthening everyone’s shadows.

The death-bound Cuirassiers led their horses, allowing children to sit on the horses’ backs.

Although their faces still showed fatigue, their eyes were devoid of previous fear.

They survived, entirely thanks to the "cowardly" Alexei and those heroes on the opposite bank.

"Lord Kutuyov." Hoarsely, Alexei spoke from horseback, "Did I still act too childish today? Sacrificing so many soldiers to save these children."

Kutuyov paused, then laughed: "Childish or not, what you did was right.

Today, you charged back into the soldiers’ midst, even at the risk of being caught by vampires, just to show your stance—it’s enough.

Failure is acceptable, but weakness is not.

If you had run today, abandoning the children and soldiers, no matter how many soldiers, how many guns you had in the future, nobody would ever trust you again.

Now, although you lost Salted Meat Castle, you won people’s hearts and raised your banner, naturally people will gather under this banner.

We also captured a dozen Vampire Army officers, obtained part of Lakunio’s march plans.

These are things more important than victory; even the Saint’s Grandson you admire didn’t win every victory in one go."

Alexei lowered his head, looking at his own hands, pale but stained with much blood.

"They can live for the next time," Alexei thought silently.

He raised his head, gazing toward the distance.

In the sunshine, the Holy Alliance Battle Group’s banner could be faintly seen on the hills, a red background embroidered with a golden gear.

It was the insignia of the Holy Mechanism Court, a symbol of safety.

He took a deep breath, took a step forward, walking toward the direction of the morning sun.

The soldiers of the Shooting Army followed behind him, their footsteps steady and resolute.

Kutuyov rode at the front of the line.

The rising sun cast an increasingly brilliant gold sheen on the surface of the Fitter Carter River.

The Vampire Army on the opposite bank were still searching, but they could never catch up now.

Alexei’s troops, like a long golden thread, disappeared into the golden sunlight, heading toward new hope.