The Third Son of a Medieval Knight Family Chapter 112 - Knight of Ascension (47)

The steppe warriors moved busily.

“Lord Viktor has charged ahead first! We follow behind him!”

“Anyone who gets excited and rushes out first, I’ll personally kill them! Wait for the signal!”

True to their nature of being accustomed to strict command hierarchy, the warriors were preparing for battle with far more discipline than even the principality’s knights or mercenaries. While Kulak was continuously shouting and busily preparing for battle, he suddenly spoke to Tumen who was beside him.

“…But Tumen. Does your tribe teach such things too? I never imagined that the true identity of the ‘Army of Terror’ led by the Grand Chief, which we’d only heard about in stories, would be something resembling sorcery.”

“Tch, I’ve only heard about it too, this is my first time actually seeing it on a battlefield. Ugh, just looking at it makes my balls tremble.”

Tumen wiped his nose once, then continued speaking while organizing the gear he was holding.

“That damned brother of mine would sometimes tell me when he was drunk. That he couldn’t handle it, but he coveted that power alone. I didn’t know what he meant then, but now I can clearly see what he referenced when creating his guard unit.”

Tumen and Kulak each mounted their horses and conducted final equipment checks.

After crouching quietly in the cold, shaded place, they were finally about to ride their horses, and not just those two but all the warriors were excited, though they didn’t say it aloud.

“Still, honestly, at this point none of that matters. Old man, things like the Army of Terror will all become tales of the past now.”

“…Tumen, wouldn’t it still be better for you to remain here?”

“Bullshit! I’ve already driven a spear into my brother’s chest. Stop talking nonsense and let’s depart quickly.”

“…Right.”

Fights between father and son, between brothers were common occurrences in the steppes. Tumen had met his lord and staked his future on him, while his father was doing his best to continue reigning as ruler of these steppes. Then all that remained was for them to clash with each other.

“Uryaaaah!”

With strange howling sounds, the expeditionary force’s vanguard, the so-called ‘Conversion Unit,’ finally began riding their horses after a long wait.

---

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

Viktor looked at the monastery knights following him protectively. While their armaments were somewhat lacking compared to the principality’s knights, that didn’t mean they were by any means easy opponents.

The eyes visible through their visors were filled with fanatical passion, and the crosses carved on their fluttering white surcoats seemed to have the effect of boosting the morale of those around them.

Moreover, unlike knights who lived dissolutely and ruined their bodies, these men didn’t indulge in such behavior, and they were said to receive daily training related to fighting monsters that appeared everywhere, making them quite reliable as a fighting force.

‘I heard several of these have veteran experience participating in Holy Land defense battles.’

He was curious about how they had traveled to such distant places to fight and returned alive, but now wasn’t the time to ask such questions.

Viktor decided to be satisfied with being able to command experienced fighters who knew how to battle well and, most importantly, possessed morale that wouldn’t easily break.

‘Most of all, since they’re not my direct troops, the burden of losses is also lighter.’

Of course, if he really carelessly wasted the knights here, he would be marked by the Church, so he wouldn’t drive them recklessly.

Before long, they had gotten close enough to distinguish the enemies’ faces.

“Target the rear ranks! Avoid areas where our allies are mixed in!”

At Viktor’s command, the knights gradually changed direction toward the enemy’s flank. It was natural conduct since charging straight in during a melee could send both allies and enemies flying at once. Viktor watched them charge carefully and nodded.

‘Good. These ones don’t seem greatly affected. Is the reason faith after all… or strong mentality? Either way, it’s fortunate.’

Though he couldn’t know the exact mechanism of that barbaric sorcery, there would naturally be faithful ones among the members of the collapsing central army, so it was hard to say it was necessarily related to the measure of faith.

‘Well, that’s not what’s important right now.’

Though he wanted to investigate in detail, he didn’t have that luxury now.

Recognizing their charge, cavalry were also rushing out from the enemy’s flank. Viktor gritted his teeth. He didn’t cough up blood or fall into delusions of seeing deer faces. What Viktor could clearly see right now was only the sight of warriors screaming and approaching before his eyes.

“Charge!”

At Viktor’s charge command, Vino raised his head and waved the flag with all his might while shouting.

“Brothers, prepare to charge! Kill the heathens!”

Matching his cry, the knights all drew their lances, tucked them under their arms, and began riding out while singing hymns.

‘…!’

A method not used at all by the principality’s knights. Only then could Viktor remember once again that Vino was from the Western Empire. And Viktor could understand why the Western Empire had gained such renown with their knight forces.

“O Lord, protect me even in the valley of death, and grant me strength to split the bellies and heads of heathens until the end!”

“In the Lord’s name! Let us go to heaven carrying heathen heads! No prisoners needed!”

“Amen!”

Thwack-thwack-thwack-thud!

Truly fanatical fervor. The sight of knights charging without blinking an eye even as barbarian warriors swung gleaming weapons right in front of them was as unsettling as the sorcery surrounding the Grand Chief’s army.

However, their power was overwhelming. The clash between cavalry and cavalry ended in overwhelming one-sided superiority. The long lance shafts, based on their superior length, were sufficient to turn opponents to dust before the barbarians’ blades could even reach them.

People, armor, horses. None of it mattered. The lance points loaded with tremendous acceleration and body weight split through everything and were insufficient, even collapsing the formation itself.

Looking at warriors being cut down without even being able to scream, the enemies began to panic, but it was already too late. Before they could even absorb the shock of the lance charge, one knight was charging toward them.

“Don’t block my path!!”

Power equal to or exceeding the intense Western Empire-style lance charge. Though it was merely axe strikes loaded with simple strength and body weight, there was no one who could withstand that massive axe swung from horseback.

Whoooosh!

Every time the axe swung wide with a whooshing sound, blood splattered in all directions. Those blocking the front were trampled along with their horses by Podaga.

The speed of the fiercely galloping horse never decreased. If the monastery knights’ fanatical charge had crushed the enemies’ spirit, Viktor’s solo charge as the spearhead broke their minds. After cutting down the last one blocking his path, Viktor shouted with all his might.

“About face!”

“In the Lord’s name!”

“Amen!”

The knights, who had already torn the enemy half to pieces and were forming up again on the opposite flank, lit up at his command and raised new lances.

Viktor turned his horse’s head to look back again. The Grand Chief’s army, cut in half, was scattering in confusion.

Some spread to both sides as if surrounding the central army, while the remaining rear portions charged toward Viktor and the knights. It was clearly to definitively rout the collapsing central army and prevent the knights from having space to charge. Viktor looked at what appeared to be the enemy commander shouting in a panicked voice.

“What the hell are those bastards! Why isn’t it working on them?!”

A mean face with a goat beard, clearly visible since he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Viktor lightly rolled his shoulders and greeted the enemy commander as he always did.

Crack! The short spear he threw with a swish accurately shattered the head of the commander leading the group even in that chaotic situation, then flew back and embedded itself, causing the warriors to freeze.

The one who had always fawned beside Yugrichi, whom Bohdan had ground his teeth wanting to kill, had futilely gone to join his ancestors, but Viktor didn’t know this fact. He shook the blood off his axe, then once again shouted in a low, clear voice.

“Charge! We crush their heads! Watch the firing line! Follow behind me so as not to overlap with our allies’ charge!”

Viktor’s axe, charging once more, was clearly pointing at the enemy’s center. And the sight of just dozens of knights charging into the midst of thousands of cavalry was more than sufficient to raise the morale of the central army on the verge of defeat.

“Fuck, raise weapons!”

“Do you see that?! Do you see that cross! The Kobarov family banner beside it! Do you see it?!”

“God is with us! We will not break here!”

“Stab your comrades’ flanks! Make those fallen to the devil’s schemes come to their senses!”

The central army, which had already begun scattering around individual mercenary companies or private soldiers in a disorderly manner, regrouped.

There were still many who fell into delirium or coughed up blood whenever the nightmare-like whitish aura wandered the battlefield, and the barbarian warriors ravaging the infantry had demon-like forms terrifying to see even in dreams, but these men no longer retreated.

Maksim, selected from the vanguard, had long since lost the horse he’d been granted. With his blood-covered face, he crawled across the battlefield.

“Kihihik, die!”

A barbarian warrior targeted him from behind while making unpleasant sounds, but Maksim seemed to have no energy to respond and just walked forward looking only ahead. That’s when it happened.

“Urgh…”

“What are you doing, you moron! Where are your subordinates!”

“…Sobol?”

Sobol, who had usually been like a thorn in his eye, walked over confidently despite dyeing his flanks with red blood. In one hand, instead of the steel shield he’d always boasted about, he held what appeared to be a picked-up bow.

“…I don’t know, whether they’re all dead or alive…”

“Fuck! Get it together! Do you want to die here? Are you planning to disobey Sir Viktor’s orders!”

“…You bastard!”

As light returned to Maksim’s dazed eyes, Sobol spat and pointed in one direction.

“Well, I’m not in a position to talk either. It wasn’t that they came on horseback. Only we got concentrated attacks.”

“Fucking barbarian bastards. Our mercenary company is the same.”

The vanguard had scattered. There were many commanders who coveted this powerful unit composed entirely of cavalry, and Viktor had arranged for some of them to work as scout units for the central army.

It hadn’t been a bad proposal, and they could receive plenty of money, but in the end it had been a bad move.

‘I should have just stayed under that guy with the others… fuck, stupid bastard!’

While envying those who had gone with the left wing, Maksim slapped his own cheek trying to come to his senses.

Though they’d been instantly shattered by some damn strange sorcery, he couldn’t die in a place like this. And his Birch Tree Mercenary Company couldn’t collapse in a place like this either.

‘This little thing is nothing compared to that snake bastard!’

“…What about Sir Viktor? Is he safe?”

Sobol looked at him with an incredulous expression, then wiggled the hand he’d been pointing somewhere with.

“You should get a grasp of your own situation first. Who’s worrying about whom… look over there!”

“…!!”

Joy and relief unconsciously appeared on Maksim’s face. The barbarians who had been mercilessly trampling the central army were being torn into three pieces.

The familiar steppe warriors and vanguard mercenaries fiercely crushing and charging into the enemy’s right side. The well-armed ones steadily pressuring the left side and slowly pushing the opponents back, and the rough-looking knight savagely slaughtering enemies at their front. Finally, the small number of knights charging madly toward the enemy’s center.

Looking at the flag bearing the Kobarov family crest clearly visible even among the whitish smoke, Maksim unconsciously muttered.

“Sir Viktor…”

The knight sent by God who had now become their true employer. Or the barbarian slaughterer, savior of Radovitz. Or the one who had never been defeated even once.

“The Knight of Ascension…”

---

“Get out of the way!”

Slash! After cutting down a tenaciously charging warrior along with his armor, Viktor surveyed his surroundings. The monastery knights who had been solidly supporting him at his side had shattered the enemy’s remaining strength with their shocking and terrifying unified charge, and were now throwing away their broken lances and toying with enemies using sword and shield.

Though it was creepy how they persistently cut warriors’ throats while muttering about earning tickets to heaven, they fought well so there were no problems.

Viktor lightly dodged a warrior flying after being struck by a shield right in front of him, then charged out again. The enemy’s deep interior was even more bizarre in appearance.

Though Viktor’s eyes still couldn’t see or feel any strange aura, the thin white flags fluttering not with the wind’s direction but at their own whim, and the quiet atmosphere where the noisy battlefield sounds couldn’t be felt at all, suggested that this place was somehow unusual.

And it was when Podaga had just crossed the flags between two groups.

“…”

When figures that appeared from who knows where suddenly emerged to surround him, Viktor calmly looked at them.

They were better armed than any barbarians he’d seen so far, and the human face-shaped masks that completely covered their faces gave an eerie feeling.

‘Beyond Vashi’s guard unit?’

Beings of an even higher class than the fearless black-armored warriors. Viktor gripped his axe handle with both hands while carefully measuring the distance.

‘I’ll sweep them away at once.’

Amid the strangely faint sounds of clashing weapons and screams, Viktor and the unidentified warriors were hesitating while sizing each other up.

Thwack!

The beginning was concise. Viktor lightning-fast drew a short spear from his thigh and threw it at the man standing at the front.

“Urgh…”

Then he quickly rode his horse and charged while swinging his axe wide.

Clang!

‘They blocked it?!’

He looked at the warriors with a shocked expression. His axe, which had never been blocked even once until now, was unable to advance further and only sparking as the warriors who had charged in unison held it back.

“…Stab!”

Still seeming to be struggling with the strength, some of the warriors making pained groaning sounds drew small daggers and charged at Viktor in unison.

“Hup!”

When Viktor applied force once more, those who had been engaged in the power struggle tumbled backward. Taking advantage of that gap, he threw one charging warrior’s neck to the ground, then moved his body.

Swish! With the sound of cutting through empty air, the enemy’s attack came to nothing, but Viktor didn’t let his guard down. These were enemies with skills and strength on a completely different level from before.

‘Indeed… you’d have to be at least this level to be called the Grand Chief’s guard unit.’

Turning his gaze away from Podaga who had cleverly fled quickly, Viktor glared at them.

Though he’d been unhorsed, his fighting spirit was never broken. He put more strength into both his hands’ grips and raised his axe high.

Creaking sounds came from the solid steel handle, but he didn’t mind. And just as he was about to charge in that overhead stance to smash the enemy’s skull, it happened.

“…Well now, even with the White Deer lending power, only to this degree… You fellow, are you really human? Even a decent giant would have difficulty matching strength with you.”

“…How did you get up?”

When the man who he’d thought had fallen after taking the first short spear began speaking while dropping the broken spear shaft from his hand, Viktor raised his guard level even higher as he looked at him. Though it was an aged voice, he absolutely couldn’t let his guard down.

“But I don’t feel that blind god’s power at all… could you really have monster blood mixed in?”

Ignoring Viktor’s question and only saying what he wanted to say, the man slowly removed his mask. Curved horns, white hair, and intense eyes.

“…Yugrichi?”

“Arrogant bastard, yes. I am the Grand Chief of these steppes. I was very curious about what kind of fellow you were… to think you’d be such a young punk. How truly shameful.”

Yugrichi, finally revealing his appearance, glared at him.