Chapter 81: Star Knight, the Beginning of a Myth

The battles I personally experienced taught me something: in a great army, there must be a group of soldiers like this— they were powerful and unyielding, and to other soldiers, they were synonymous with invincibility. They enjoyed glory and brilliance that other soldiers could not compare with, forging their own undefeated myth through their remarkable achievements in battle. They were the soul of the army, irreplaceable existences. When their names were passed from mouth to mouth, they were always wrapped in deep respect and profound fear.

They were the myth of the military.

When we fought against the Winston Heavy Cavalry, this truth appeared before us in an overwhelmingly powerful manner, letting us feel the strength of what was called the “myth of the military.” What they displayed in battle was not only destructive power that surpassed common sense, but also the pillar of an army’s morale and spirit. As long as they had not been defeated, the fight against the Winston was far from over. It was hard for us to figure out our feelings toward this iron cavalry that represented absolute destructive power: as enemies, we hated these silent killers who had repeatedly wounded and killed our comrades and had even slain the commander we respected most; but as honest and honorable warriors, we could not help but respect their never-yielding fighting will and their powerful combat ability.

“What we lack is exactly such a force.” Fred had said this to us countless times, helplessly and enviously.

Of course, we did not have such a force. A powerful army was absolutely not something that could be built overnight. The glorious history of the Winston Heavy Cavalry could be traced back more than four hundred years to the time when the grassland tribes were just beginning to rise. They represented not only a powerful cavalry force that swept across battlefields, but also the spiritual pillar and founding culture of a nation and a country. Likewise, what they took pride in was not just the strength of their arms, but also the mark of honor bearing their shining insignia, accumulated over centuries through culture and history.

They were the indestructible “Formation-Breaking Iron Cavalry.” Just this name alone was enough to stir the hearts of those battle-hardened warriors, making them face all powerful enemies without any fear.

From the very first day we fought them, Fred’s hope of building a force worthy of being called a “military myth” never stopped for even a moment. We needed an ace force, a powerful power that could truly be called “invincible.” As the war situation pressed closer, this need became more and more urgent…

“Special assault formation, charge!” Following Fred’s command, fewer than three thousand Light Cavalrymen swept neatly and swiftly toward the approaching Cretan reinforcements. Look at these young and strong figures around me—they were resolute, brave, and utterly fearless in the face of the enemy. They were true warriors. Their cavalry lances were held steadily level in their hands, just like flagpoles bearing banners, and their honor and will, like tangible flags, hung from the tips of those lances, giving off dazzling light under the sun.

Ahead of us, more than three thousand fully equipped Cretan soldiers had already assembled into battle formation, ready to meet our attack. Our enemies were not newcomers to the battlefield. Facing the charge of the Light Cavalry, they had already arranged themselves in neat ranks. Two rows of spears extended their dangerous tips from behind a line of huge shields, ready to suck the life out of us.

Suddenly, a phenomenon that our enemies could not understand appeared on the battlefield. As several high-pitched incantations rang out from the charging cavalry formation, streaks of shining light in various colors lit up on the bodies of the Delanmaya Knights. Those riders were already the most outstanding among outstanding warriors, but the heroic bearing they displayed at this moment had gone far beyond the category of “warrior.” It was as if the God of War had borrowed their bodies and come to the mortal world in person. Their speed matched the swiftest birds in flight, and the weapons in their hands contained a dangerous power of destruction.

We did not boldly crash head-on into the Cretans’ spears. Instead, we shifted direction in an instant before that, splitting into two columns and sweeping around to the Cretans’ flanks. We came so fast that most of the Cretan archers had not even pulled an arrow from their quivers. As we swept past their formation, I saw looks of terror in their eyes.

“Ah…” A panicked figure cried out as he rose from my left side, holding a longsword and thrusting it at me. Before he could hit his target, my lance accurately pierced through his body and remained inside him. Even at this moment, disbelief was still written all over his face. Even in death, he could not believe that death had come for him so swiftly.

This was only the beginning of the slaughter.

One cavalry lance after another delivered the touch of death to the deepest part of the Cretan soldiers’ bodies, followed closely by sharp war blades that carried the sound of wind and thunder. Our cavalry warriors fought in ways that surpassed the limits of humanity. No—this was not a battle. It was a one-sided slaughter. The hot blood of the Cretans splashed everywhere, spreading a thick stench of blood into the air. That intense smell stimulated the Delanmaya warriors who were fighting, bringing out the most brutal side of their natures and proving their own strength beyond dispute through the deaths of their enemies. Before them, those battle-hardened Cretan warriors were fragile. Their counterattacks were weak, always easily deflected by their quick-reacting opponents. Even those weapons that did manage to strike an enemy’s body seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier, greatly reducing the damage the enemy received.

No matter how many glorious victories these Cretan warriors had won in the past, no matter how many times they had sent proud reports of victory back to their homeland, at this moment, here, they were nothing but the weak being slaughtered. This single defeat was enough to overturn all their honor, because they would forever lose their lives here.

This force that was fighting right now was precisely the ace unit that Fred had carefully built: the Magic Cavalry!

If our opponents still had enough courage to look up at each person charging on horseback, they would notice that among the many iron-armored Knights, there were always one or two wearing cloth armor. Their bodies were relatively frail, they held no weapons in their hands, and they were generally much older than the soldiers around them. Although they never launched attacks to kill enemies themselves, they were the most hidden and most powerful part of this force: they were all Mages.

During the Second Battle of Centuria, Poirot had used the Haste Spell to increase the impact of our cavalry, helping us rescue the besieged Fred. That battle opened up our thinking: although offensive magic did not have much practical use on the battlefield, supportive magic could help an army greatly improve its combat power, making it an irresistible force. In the battle to attack Davo City, we used the same number of troops to defeat the famously invincible Winston Heavy Cavalry, verifying our idea with actual results on the battlefield and building the prototype of the Magic Cavalry.

Among the cavalry of about three thousand men before us, there were nearly seventy Mages. Recruiting these Mages was not difficult. Restricted by both religion and law, Mages were not protected or respected in most countries. Only Mages of considerably high rank were welcomed in adventuring parties, earning their pay by completing their employers’ tasks, while some low-rank Mages could not even secure three meals a day for themselves. Many Mages with weaker magical power had second jobs to make a living. Among the group we recruited, for example, there were two clumsy tailors, one roasted sweet potato vendor, four carpenters, and seven coachmen. For them, even the treatment of an ordinary soldier was far better than the lives they currently had.

Under the arrangements of Poirot and Red Flame, these Mages received training in horsemanship, physical conditioning, and supportive spells such as Haste, Protection, and Giant Strength. A few months later, these Mages, whose magical power was not strong, had already learned how to skillfully control horses and how to concentrate on the bumpy back of a galloping horse, casting their spells at the right moment. Although teaching these frail human punching bags to ride horses had driven Red Flame to the brink of a mental breakdown, this was not the hardest part of the entire training. How to integrate these spells into the cavalry formation, how to adjust the coordination between Mages and soldiers, and how to protect the nearly defenseless Mages in battle—these were the true focus and difficulty of the training. Every step we took cost us a great deal of effort and wisdom.

We all knew that we were doing something unprecedented. We were overturning the entire history of warfare, breaking the age-old conclusion that “war makes Mages leave.” No one could offer us help. We were like children groping in the dark, excited by every pebble our hands touched.

And then, we succeeded.

When the most ordinary magic was organically combined with the most valiant warriors, it was like gunpowder meeting a spark, producing an explosive effect. No one could measure the power of this newly born force with common sense—not even its own creators. When we saw their magnificent bearing on the training ground, all we could do was marvel.

“This is the sharpest blade, the most pointed spear. In a charge, no force can compare with them.” Watching the shining figures of this army, Fred said to us with great pride and high spirits. I rarely saw my friend lose his composure like this out of pride and excitement, but his behavior was completely understandable.

Without a doubt, we had personally created a powerful armed force that could stand comparison with the Winston Heavy Cavalry. Perhaps it was still young, and there were still many shortcomings to be made up for, but on the colorful stage of this war, it had already taken on an important role, beginning its own new military myth and becoming an immortal banner fluttering across the battlefield of life and death!

“Star Knight”—this was the name we gave this new force with a slightly childlike mindset. I felt this poetic name was very fitting. When the magic effects took hold on the soldiers’ bodies, the flickering lights shone just like the stars filling the sky. Not only that—it would become the most dazzling star forever shining on the battlefield, illuminating the direction of our victory.

In just a few moments, we had swiftly swept past the Cretans’ flank formation and reunited behind their lines with the other half of our forces led by Red Flame and Kelsey. At this point, we finally ran into the Cretan cavalry: a small force of about five hundred men.

Without any hesitation, Red Flame waved his twin blades and once again charged forward at the very front, followed closely by his beloved, the Red Scarf Pirate Queen known as the “Rose Blooming in the Sea,” Kelsey Ragg. Empowered by spells such as Haste, Bless, and Protection, they were like the sharp tip of a sword, charging into the enemy formation without any obstruction.

“Let them see what true cavalry is!” Red Flame swung his twin blades apart, and a burst of red light exploded before his eyes. A Cretan rider wailed and tumbled to the ground, blood gushing from his chest, his face filled with agonized despair.

“Kill!” Kelsey once again chose to use her customary rapier. Her skillful technique and nimble movements made up for the shortcomings of her weapon. Even during a high-speed charge, she could still calmly dodge the weapons coming at her from the front. In fact, she did not encounter much danger. With the help of magic, her enormous advantage in speed and strength always gave her the chance to strike first when facing an opponent, and very few could survive her fierce thrusts coming straight at them.

Soon, this cavalry force, which was far inferior to us in both numbers and morale, collapsed. The commander of this army tried to bravely launch a counterattack against Red Flame. His courage and his failure to read the situation were both proven at the same time beneath Red Flame’s blade. Along with his life, the will to resist of these soldiers also came to an end.

“Charge! Crush them before the enemy’s follow-up troops arrive.” Fred did not say much. With a wave of his hand, he led the charge and plunged into the Cretan formation from the rear. Without the defense of spears and without the protection of tower shields, this Cretan army was like a hedgehog that had not curled up tightly, exposing the softest parts of its body to its natural enemy, completely losing its ability to resist. Before us, not a single soldier still deserved to be called a “warrior.” The enormous gap in strength turned all their resistance into a joke. We were like a large ladle thrust into a soup pot, wantonly stirring the red soup and chunks of meat inside. Under our wanton stirring, the Cretan formation writhed in chaos, without even a single bubble of counterattack rising to the surface.

A soldier thrust his spear at my waist with all his strength, but his counterattack posed no threat to me, whose speed had been enhanced. His eyes were unfocused and his breathing was heavy, as if this movement came entirely from the desperate animal instinct within him, rather than from rational thought. I did not pity him because of this. With one sword stroke, I ended his life. When the blade swept across his throat, his expression suddenly relaxed, and it even carried a faint, peaceful smile.

I thought it was because he had escaped from a reality as terrifying as a nightmare, and was relieved that he no longer had to face powerful enemies like us that he could not understand.

After putting up brief and feeble resistance, this army fell apart. During the collapse, it barely formed any complete main formation at all, falling apart completely like scattered sand. We symbolically chased after them for a few steps, and once we were certain they could no longer organize any threatening counterattack, we stopped and began to regroup and count our losses.

We got a number that was worthy of pride: with fewer than three thousand Light Cavalry, we had charged against nearly three thousand infantry and about five hundred cavalry. After killing and wounding nearly a thousand enemies and completely routing the enemy force, fewer than a hundred of our men had died, and a little over two hundred had been wounded. The joy of victory temporarily dispelled our worries, and proud smiles appeared on the soldiers’ faces. They certainly had the right to be proud. I believed that even if the Winston Heavy Cavalry had fought this battle, they might not have done better than us. By this fact alone, these “Star Knights” were enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the legendary “Formation-Breaking Iron Cavalry” and become the pride of the battlefield of this era.

“Dismount where you are. Rest on the spot.” Fred was always the first to pull himself out of the joyful mood. He gave a brief order and sat down to the side with a worried face, watching the battle that was still going on beneath Chamela City.

At this moment, Lieutenant Colonel Pekra had completely abandoned the technical tactics he had used at the beginning and launched a second full-scale frontal assault on Chamela City. Obviously, the defenders of Chamela were far from being pushed to their limits by him. Although the attacking force currently held the initiative, there was still no sign of an opportunity to break the city.

“Why hasn’t he finished yet!” Rodrick threw his helmet to the ground restlessly. I was also somewhat worried. No one knew how many more reinforcements would arrive after this, or how much longer we could hold on relying on the Star Knights’ powerful combat ability. We all knew that although the Magic Cavalry was powerful, it had a weakness that could not be remedied for the time being—it relied heavily on the Mages’ mana. Once frequent battles drained the Mages’ mana dry, we would be no stronger than an ordinary Light Cavalry unit.

“We still have time, Rodrick. At least, for now, the situation beneath Chamela City is still normal. Don’t underestimate our opponents—after all, they are the Cretan army, able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the continental power Winston.” Although Fred tried to console us with these words, I could tell that his heart was not at peace.