novellk Chapter 209 Loss of Honor
Chapter 209 Loss of Honor
Chapter 210 Loss of Honor
Like untamed beasts, the Dawn Knights, following their leader, charged towards the already collapsing "hedgehog" formation with overwhelming force!
Losing their disciplined formation and effective line of sight, the Polish infantry were utterly unable to withstand the fierce charge of this well-rested and highly motivated heavy cavalry. The torrent of steel easily tore through the loose outer perimeter; hooves trampled, swords flashed, and the circular formation began to crumble from the inside.
The battle has entered its most brutal phase: the hunt.
The infantry, their formation broken, were like lambs to the slaughter before the knights in full plate armor. Longswords cut down lightly armored soldiers, and chainmail ripped through the steel blades. As warhorses charged, bodies flew through the air like kites with broken strings.
The battlefield had become a scene fit for R-rated content. Severed limbs and dismembered bodies were scattered everywhere, internal organs spilled from ruptured abdominal cavities, and blood stained the muddy ground dark red. A young Polish recruit, his face still freckled, watched in horror as a lance was thrust at him, forgetting even to raise his own spear.
The dull thud of weapons piercing flesh, the cracking sound of bones shattering, the wails of the dying, the roars of the victors, the splattering of horses' hooves on the blood-soaked mud—all intertwined, stimulating the nerves of every survivor.
Sweat mixed with the blood splattered on his lips, and a strong salty, metallic taste filled his mouth.
Peter charged through the enemy ranks, his swordsmanship concise and efficient. Facing an infantryman who raised his shield in defense, he flicked his wrist, the tip of his sword tracing a strange arc, bypassing the edge of the shield, and precisely piercing the man's throat. He wasn't indiscriminate in his killing; to soldiers who dropped their weapons and knelt begging for mercy, he merely tapped them with the flat of his sword, shouted, "Get out of here!", and then ignored them.
His mercy was noticed by some Polish officers. A Polish standard-bearer hiding behind the carriage watched Peter spare several of his young soldiers, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. He whispered to his wounded comrade beside him, "Look—that leader—he seems—a little different—"
Zawish brandished his longsword and charged toward Peter, the leader. Peter's eyes turned cold, and he spurred his horse to meet him.
In the instant the two horses crossed paths, he first feigned a high-angle slash, forcing his opponent to raise his sword to parry. Then, he changed tactics, slashing the horse's leg with his blade. The warhorse, in pain, knelt down, and Zawish cried out as he fell forward. Peter retaliated with a swift upward thrust, the blade grazing Zawish's unprotected armpit, drawing a spurt of blood. Zawish screamed as he fell from his horse.
Soon, resistance on the battlefield was largely wiped out. Hundreds died, and nearly a hundred others surrendered, throwing down their weapons.
The only one still putting up a fight is the fallen Black Knight, Zavesh.
He stood beside a wrecked carriage, holding an ornate two-handed sword, panting heavily. His black plate armor was covered with scratches and dents from swords, and his visor had been knocked off, revealing a face contorted with anger, humiliation, and exhaustion.
Jan Jeska walked over, sword in hand, his armor stained with blood. "Zavish, lay down your weapons. For the sake of your fallen and still-living soldiers."
Zavis spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, his eyes burning with a crazed flame. "Don't even think about it! You cowards, devoid of noble honor and afraid to fight head-on, want me to surrender? Come on, let's duel like true knights! For honor! Defeat me head-on!"
Zavish did not believe that his defeat in the duel with Peter's knight was due to a lack of skill, but rather blamed the Silver Dawn for constantly using treacherous schemes to undermine the fair and just fighting environment.
Jessica sighed; he knew this was a knight's obsession. He looked at Peter, who nodded, and then raised his longsword: "As you wish."
The crowd parted to make way for the two duelists. The atmosphere in the dueling area suddenly became tense.
Without further ado, Zavesh launched the first attack, gripping his sword with both hands and unleashing a powerful slash down at Jessica's head! Jessica calmly sidestepped to block, a loud clang echoing as sparks flew. Jessica attempted to use his experience to deflect Zavesh's onslaught; his swordsmanship was fluid and seasoned, and he used several short strikes to try and exploit gaps in Zavesh's defense.
After a dozen or so rounds, both of them couldn't help but sigh that the other was a formidable opponent.
But Zavesh, young and vigorous, was in a desperate frenzy, his attacks like a storm. He seized upon a tiny opening in Jessica's defense and unleashed a furious "Rage Strike," the blade whistling through the air as it swept across. Jessica was a fraction too slow to react, the tip of the sword grazing his helmet visor!
"Ugh!" Jessica groaned in pain, staggering backward. A deep gash above his left eye, exposing the bone, gushed out, blurring his vision.
In the one-on-one duel, Lao Yang was defeated.
"Ha ha ha ha"
Riding the wave of his advantage, Zawish laughed wildly and declared, "I, Zawish, have never been defeated, whether with a longsword, short weapons, or spear!"
Just as the two sword masters, Black Bartosh and Eric, were itching to make their move, and the drunkard Hynik, supporting Jessica, was furiously ready to teach this arrogant fellow a lesson, a voice like muffled thunder rang out: "Try the sword of this Crusader veteran!"
A figure slowly emerged from the ranks of the Silver Dawn. He was tall, clad in dark, heavy armor and a completely enclosed dog helmet, with only a narrow slit for his eyes. With each step he took, his heavy iron boots seemed to cause the ground to tremble slightly. He was Muller, the newly joined Knights' "Guardian of Hell."
Muller did not carry a shield, but only a broadsword that looked extremely heavy.
Zavish felt the oppressive aura emanating from his opponent and had no choice but to let out a wild laugh of mockery as he turned to face this newly emerged formidable foe. "Another one to die!" he roared, forcing himself to remain calm.
Muller didn't respond, but silently launched his attack. His swordsmanship was wide and sweeping, lacking flashy techniques, relying solely on pure power and speed. Each strike seemed capable of cleaving mountains. With the system's enhancement, it was incredibly persistent and ferocious.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
The two greatswords clashed violently, the sound deafening. Zawish quickly realized that his strength was inferior to that of his enemy. His hands were numb from the impact.
Muller seized an opportunity, using the hilt of his broadsword to forcefully jam Zawish's blade, then twisting it! Zawish felt a tremendous force, and his sword almost flew out of his hand. He struggled to hold on, but Muller had already raised his iron-booted foot and kicked him hard in the breastplate!
Zawish flew backward, crashing heavily into the mud, his two-handed sword falling from his grasp to the side. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Muller's greatsword, whistling through the air, was already at his throat, the chill emanating from the tip freezing him instantly.
Muller looked down at him, his voice deep and resonant behind his helmet, yet carrying the authority of a powerful man: "You have lost."
""
Zavish looked at the sword tip that seemed to be right in front of him, as if it came from hell. He then looked at the Silver Dawn Knights who surrounded him with cold eyes, and at Jessica, who was being helped up by his companions and whose left eye was bleeding profusely but was still looking at him. Finally, his self-light fell on Peter, who was slowly walking towards him.
Peter walked up to him, took off his helmet, revealing a handsome and composed face. In his blue eyes, there was no ecstasy of victory, only a faint trace of weariness and reflection on the war.
"Sir Zavish Gabo," Peter's voice was calm yet powerful, "your bravery is worthy of respect, but your actions have tarnished the name of knight. In the name of the Grand Master of the Knights of the Silver Dawn, I declare you captured."
"I.....
"6
Zavesh slumped to the ground, unable to deceive himself any longer. He had lost to Peter in mounted combat and to Muller in foot combat; his honor as an undefeated knight had finally been lost.