Chapter 24
Chapter 24
'The Lord is pinned down!'
Heinkel, charging beside Patrick, widened his eyes at the unexpected sight before him.
The fact that his charge had severely wounded one enemy knight was irrelevant.
To break through an enemy force twice their size, the family head had to lead the way.
Advancing like this was nothing short of suicide.
Gritting his teeth, he wheeled his horse around to strike another knight, but even that proved difficult.
Clang!
The moment his attack was blocked, two enemy knights lunged at him from both sides.
The other knights were faring no better.
"Switch to defensive formation! Tighten ranks! Our chance will come!"
There wasn't a single knight among the enemy who could stop the family head. He would break through.
That single hope drove his command, but soon after, an unbelievable sight unfolded before his eyes—five enemy knights relentlessly pressing Patrick.
The worst possible future, one he didn't even want to consider, flashed before Heinkel's eyes.
'Are we... losing? In battle?'
The aging knight found himself fighting despair before he could even face the enemy.
The knights' struggle was painfully clear to the infantry following behind.
Though they couldn't see each knight's movements in detail, they could tell their charge had stalled—the entire formation was being pushed back.
The soldiers' footsteps grew heavier without them realizing it.
The frenzy of battle was fading, replaced by creeping terror.
And among them, Rick was slowing the most.
'Ugh...'
Having worked in the inner city, he understood the stakes of this war better than most foot soldiers.
And that knowledge only made him more afraid.
'The family head said we'd lose for sure if he was stopped...'
His steps grew even heavier, and then something happened that sent a fresh wave of terror through him.
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
"AAAAARGH!"
"GYAAAH!"
"GACK!"
Before Rick could react, the soldiers marching ahead of him collapsed in unison.
A sudden volley of arrows.
One shaft landed right in front of him, embedding itself in the ground.
Had he taken one more step, it would have pierced his skull. The thought made his blood run cold.
'Guh—!'
Fear froze him solid, but the press of allied soldiers behind forced him forward against his will.
"N-no..."
His tongue, stiff with terror, refused to move—and even if it had, there was nothing he could do.
Glancing around, he saw soldiers with pale faces forcing themselves forward.
His own face probably looked no different.
'No, no, NO!'
Despite Rick's panic, the infantry continued their advance, fear etched plainly on their faces.
Soon, the frontlines clashed.
Clang! Clash! CRASH!
The deafening cacophony of steel filled the battlefield as desperate soldiers swung their weapons at one another.
"Die, you bastard!"
"You die first, you son of a bitch!"
The initial clash was fierce, but soon, the MacLaine forces began to falter.
Low morale. Inferior numbers.
Everything was against them—the outcome was inevitable.
And it didn't take long for the horror to unfold.
The first line to collapse was right in front of Rick.
"AAAAH!"
"My arm—MY ARM!"
"H-help me!"
John, the baker's son, lost an arm. Derek, the shepherd, had his heart pierced.
Phelps, a tenant farmer, was decapitated in one stroke—but his agonized expression was far from peaceful.
Faces Rick knew all too well were drenched in blood, crumpling to the ground.
More familiar faces fell one after another.
"GYAAAAH!"
As the frontlines collapsed, death felt like it was breathing down his neck.
Screaming, Rick found himself frozen in place—until a spear suddenly thrust toward him.
"Gah!"
Survival instinct overpowered fear—he barely dodged.
The spear whistled past where his head had been.
As he clutched his pounding chest, the shaft swung back and smashed into his skull.
"Die!"
THWACK.
"UGH!"
Rick tumbled to the ground, and above him, a snarling enemy soldier raised his spear like a demon.
"AAAAH!"
THUNK.
Rick rolled aside just in time as the spear stabbed into the earth.
He'd dodged once—but the assault wasn't over.
"Die! Die! DIE!"
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Rick could only roll frantically.
"STOP IT!"
The face was unfamiliar, but the man attacked as if Rick were his mortal enemy.
Then—
SCHLICK.
A strange sound, and the spear finally stopped.
"Get up! Grab your spear!"
An ally yanked him to his feet.
The face was vaguely familiar, but his dazed mind couldn't place it.
All he knew was that this man had saved him.
This was his savior—the one who'd stopped the madman.
"Th-thank—"
SCHLICK.
Before Rick could finish, an arrow punched through the man's throat.
"Ghk... gk..."
The savior collapsed with a grotesque gurgle, clutching the shaft embedded in his neck.
His outstretched hand seemed to accuse Rick, sending a chill down his spine.
"HYEEEEK!"
Rick shrieked and collapsed to his knees.
"I-I have to run... have to run..."
Consumed by that single thought, he scrambled backward on all fours—then suddenly leapt up and sprinted like a madman.
But his sprint didn't last.
"WAAAAAH!"
"AAAAARGH!"
The screams and shouts filling the air finally registered—and Rick stopped dead, staring blankly around.
Enemy soldiers now filled his vision.
'Surrounded? Are we... losing? Am I going to die? All of us?'
Even to his untrained eye, victory seemed impossible.
"N-no. I'll live. I have to live!"
The rear still had more allies—or so it seemed.
Tossing his spear aside in blind terror, Rick pushed against the tide, desperate to reach the back.
But then—
"CHAAAAARGE!"
Behind him—farther back than he'd thought possible—enemy cavalry had flanked the battlefield and now slaughtered the rear guard.
"GYAAAAH!"
"Behind us—!"
"Enemies!"
The mounted warriors' slashes cleaved through spears and bodies alike, treating men like toys.
"N-no... this can't..."
Death closed in from all sides.
Rick's legs trembled like leaves in the wind.
KWA-BOOOM!
A deafening crash erupted—unbelievable for mere swords clashing.
One of the combatants staggered back; the other lunged forward without hesitation.
But the victor of that exchange, Patrick, wore no smile.
He knew exactly what came next.
Sure enough, spears and greatswords thrust at him from both sides of the staggering foe.
Then, a greatsword and short spear aimed for his back—forcing Patrick to abandon another hard-won opportunity.
"Damn you all! Have you no pride as knights?!"
Patrick roared, though he knew it was futile.
The enemy only laughed.
"What's he on about?"
"Just ignore him. Last gasp of a dying man."
"You bastards—you're supposed to be veteran—URK!"
Patrick's blade flashed, crimson eyes burning with killing intent—no battle cry, just cold efficiency.
KWA-BOOM!
But as one knight blocked his strike, the others struck from all sides.
Slice.
Another shallow wound.
This pattern had repeated endlessly—Patrick knew it, yet couldn't break free.
Clang-clang-CLASH!
BOOM!
The assault came like clockwork, relentless as gears turning.
These men had trained specifically to take down stronger foes—perhaps even Patrick himself.
"Vicious bastards..."
He growled in frustration, but no escape came to mind.
'Even if I break free... it's too late.'
The knights, bogged down, barely held their ground—but the infantry was being crushed.
Their own cavalry tried to flank the enemy, but the enemy had done the same—and theirs was already attacking.
"GYAAAAH!"
Every distant scream—every dying plea from his people—pierced Patrick's heart like a dagger.
'Guh...'
No matter how he racked his brain, no solution came.
Despair gnawed at his resolve, and cowardly thoughts crept in.
'Fine. Logan... you escaped wisely. Preserve our family's legacy.'
Slice.
"Ghk!"
"The Baron's weakening!"
"Finish him!"
That fleeting distraction cost him.
"You...!"
Grit.
As despair consumed him, only stubborn defiance remained.
Patrick raised his sword for one last stand—
Then, a sound shattered even that fragile resolve.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
'Cavalry?'
The thunder of hooves rolled across the battlefield—from the enemy's rear.
Not a large force, but enough to douse his last ember of hope.
'They had more troops in reserve?'
But then—Patrick couldn't believe his eyes.
Thwip-thwip-THWIP!
"AAAAARGH!"
The cavalry wasn't stopping—it was carving through the enemy's rear, sowing chaos.
'Allies?!'
As the enemy ranks faltered, Patrick spotted him—
A young man with familiar crimson hair, charging at the head of that cavalry.
"LOGAN?!"
Patrick's wavering vision couldn't believe what unfolded next.
Deep in the forest behind the battlefield.
Hundreds of cavalrymen had circled the mountains, slipping behind enemy lines just after Tesron's forces passed.
They hid without a sound—but once battle began, murmurs broke out.
"Not yet. Wait."
Logan watched, teeth gritted, as his father's charge was halted—yet he remained calm.
'So this... this is how he fell last time.'
The memory of what he'd heard in his past life made his chest tighten—but it wasn't time yet.
Logan coldly observed, restraining himself.
Even as the knights were pushed back, encircled, and overwhelmed, he waited.
"Ugh..."
"Lord Logan? Now?"
"No. Not yet."
The MacLaine knights, though outnumbered, held firm—but a few couldn't.
One unlucky lower knight missed his lance charge and was skewered by two spears.
"GROB! Damn it!"
He'd been one of the few who'd recently warmed up to Logan.
The memory of him handing over a water flask, smiling, was still vivid.
"Lord Logan... are you alright?"
"...Fine. I'm fine."
His voice was low, seething—clearly not fine—but Kai wisely stayed silent.
This young employer's tactics had already proven flawless—they'd ambushed perfectly.
But when the infantry clashed and the lines broke, Kai couldn't hold back.
"Lord Logan. Even now... not yet?"
"Not yet. Not yet."
Blood trickled from Logan's bitten lip.
He, too, wanted to charge in—but he clung to reason.
Even unfamiliar faces would've pained him, but many fallen soldiers were ones he knew.
Cob, the gardener who'd maintained what little dignity their barren land had—an arrow through his eye.
Rio, the servant who'd only just started smiling at him—cut down while trying to help Cob.
His enhanced senses, granted by Foscor, made every detail agonizingly vivid.
Logan forced himself to ignore the carnage, focusing on the movements of his true targets.
'Not yet... still not yet.'
If he waited longer, even victory would leave the family crippled.
As Logan wrestled with his thoughts—finally, his targets arrived.
The enemy cavalry reached the spot he'd been waiting for.
"AAAAH!"
The screams from his own rear guard pierced his heart—
And became his signal.
"NOW!"
All the rage he'd bottled up erupted as Logan spurred his horse forward.
Three hundred cavalrymen burst from the forest, shaking the earth as they charged toward the battlefield.