Catching The Prey

Richard spurred his horse forward, following closely behind Zim’s army. Behind him were nearly a hundred desert warriors, a people who had grown up on the backs of horses. The full gallop of the over hundred horses was enough to shake the earth!

Zim watched the chasing Richard in a daze, finding it difficult to believe that this was the same frontier knight he had chased until he had nowhere to run.

Seeing the momentum of Richard’s charge, the general’s expression immediately changed. He abandoned the Viscount, rushing to the back of the formation and infusing his energy in his voice to roar thunderously, “Rear infantry, shield up! SPEARS RAISED!”

It took but a few moments for a thin but complete defensive line to form. The Viscount’s army had been in a hurry, so they didn’t have any heavy infantry. They also lacked the royal pikemen who were normally used specifically to deal with a cavalry charge. Unless they arranged themselves in an ordered formation that used their very bodies as obstacles, there was no way to obstruct Richard’s men!

The desert warriors were born riders. Now equipped with the light armour from the Duke and the elite warhorses of the Viscount, their might had grown by two entire levels. Richard slowed his horse slightly, and the desert warriors flew past him one by one in a rush towards the disorderly enemy. The guard captain had shouted out at the same time as the general gave his own orders, commanding any infantry with shields to move to the Viscount’s side to defend him. This left the army in complete chaos.

Richard had originally wanted to wait until Zim broke before swallowing his army, but seeing the unexpected confusion he immediately raised his right hand. A bright flame shot into the sky, a signal for a full frontal assault!

The desert warriors all began to shout, spurring their horses on with their long, sharp falchions held high. *THUD! THUD! THUD!* Dull impacts resounded through the battlefield, the light infantry sent flying at their hand. The dozen or so desert warriors at the front were thrown off their horses from the impact. Their warhorses squatted down, while they themselves used the great inertia as they slid across the ground to neuter a few enemies who couldn’t evade in time.

The barely complete defensive line was completely smashed apart. Those charging from behind manoeuvred around the obstacles despite the high speeds, breaking into the large hole in the formation. Their falchions flashed everywhere, the dazzling gleams leaving carnage in their wake.

A large group of desert warriors broke right into the centre of the infantry, beginning a wanton massacre. The defensive line was decimated, leaving a single unmoving boulder in the tide of horses.

That unmoving boulder was Zim’s general. He was like a black-armoured wargod, his two-handed sword a lethal weapon that mowed desert warriors off their horses as they came. His helmet was already dyed red with blood, and yet his cries did not seem to weaken one bit. If it was just the desert warriors, the general would have become an unyielding hero who could save the impossible situation.

However, the rest of Richard’s army had arrived.

Several dozen metres away, Richard reined in his horse as he gazed coldly at the bloodbath around the general, “Medium Rare, stop him from the front. Tiramisu will support you. Gangdor, move behind him and attack his legs. Olar, help them with your warsong. Zendrall, curse him again and again until you succeed. I’ll cut off his escape.”

Every order pushed the general further towards the abyss. The man found that he didn’t lose to the trolls’ axes in terms of strength, but behind him was an agile, sturdy brute whose every attack held mountainous power that eclipsed even the trolls! More and more cracks started to cover his two-handed sword, the weapon that had accompanied him for many years actually growing difficult to control. Zendrall’s curses were taking effect.

It took no time for numerous fierce enemies to surround the general. He was level 14, but each of his opponents was just as powerful. With all of them fighting him at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on for too long. He thus gave up on the rear immediately, preparing to retreat to his troops.

However, Richard had been observing the situation. He took out the Book of Holding the moment the man made his move, the power of magic surging out from within. Just as the general knocked Gangdor back, he found to his despair that six direbears with thick, coarse fur had suddenly appeared in front of him.

*BAM!* In the midst of all the chaos, a heavy punch landed on the back of the general’s head; the immense force immediately smashed his head into the ground. Medium Rare then jumped high, his large body that weighed hundreds of kilograms aimed to crush the general upon landing.

Richard’s heart twitched. “Keep him alive!” he yelled quickly, but it was too late. The troll’s huge buttocks crashed into the general, crushing his body.

“No…” Richard covered his eyes…

Once fifty throwers made their way over, the situation changed dramatically. He ordered them to unleash their toxic bone axes, and the pale white blades drowned the ten remaining heavy cavaliers. These axes were heavy and sharp, more powerful than even metal hatchets. Once they cut through the plate armour and touched the flesh, it didn’t matter if the wounds were only light. As long as blood was drawn, the toxins on the blades would take the soldier’s life in minutes.

The second throw of the bone axes sent twice the number of squires to their demise. Had there been enough warhorses, these armoured squires would have made for an excellent light infantry. However, off their horses they were fated for death.

The throwers quickly emptied their three bone axes and five hatchets, annihilating most of the Viscount’s elite forces. The whistle of the axes had become every soldier’s nightmare; even those covered from head to toe in plate armour could not block them.

The perfect attack had completely destroyed the Viscount’s army. The guard captain had taken Zim and fled as fast as they could the moment the general went down. Some of the warriors followed, while the remaining abandoned soldiers gave up their resistance out of despair and surrendered to Richard. He left behind less than ten of his soldiers to watch over the more than 300 prisoners of war, having his army reorganise as he started a fervent chase for the rest of Zim’s troops.

The chase took an entire day and night. Richard was like a wolf seeking its prey, prowling around it and taking a vicious bite every now and then. In the deep mountains behind Rooseland, this was how the wolves hunted prey that was much larger than them.

Fleeing the entire way, Zim did not realise that the pursuers had managed to force him to change his route. He was now nearing the Land of Turmoil.

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