Chapter 82: Blood as Proof, No Victory, No Return

The first reinforcement force was routed so quickly by roughly equal numbers of Delanmaya Light Cavalry—this was something neither side’s commanders fighting under Chamela City had expected. This turn of events not only stunned the enemies who knew nothing of the truth, but also exceeded the expectations of us, who knew the situation well.

However, the battle was still going on, and before long, we found ourselves in a hard fight.

Reinforcements from Kent City to the northwest and Milisen City to the northeast arrived at the same time, each numbering no fewer than four thousand men. Their commanders clearly understood the important strategic significance of Chamela Town, and had almost emptied their garrisons to come to its rescue. I had to say, their generals might not have been famous commanders known by all, but they were definitely capable commanders with rich battlefield experience and sharp insight into war. At a single glance, they saw how important the situation was. They completely ignored us—who were at a numerical disadvantage and looked easier to deal with—and lunged left and right at the main siege formation commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Pekra, boldly exposing their rear to us.

Exposing one’s rear to the enemy without any defense is a mistake that almost any commander with a little common sense would not make. But at this moment, under this special situation, such a decision was correct.

If we had really chosen the most attractive option—to chase after them and attack their rear—we might have gained a temporary advantage, or even crushed them in the end, but we would have been unable to stop them from charging at our main formation and delaying our siege. That was exactly what they wanted: to protect the city at all costs, hold back the Delanmaya Army attacking the city, until more reinforcements arrived.

Time. What they needed was only time. Time was their strongest ally, and also our most dangerous enemy.

We had to make a decision that was unfavorable to us: split into two forces, meet head-on this enemy that was nearly three times our number, and stop them at all costs.

That was exactly what we did.

Once again, the seven-colored radiance that symbolized glory covered the armored knights. Like two bolts of lightning tearing across the earth, after slightly adjusting our charging angle, we collided head-on with our enemies.

The first to meet us were the Cretan cavalry.

Fortunately, because our enemies were in a hurry to reinforce, they had not arranged their ranks well, which gave us an opening. The gleaming knights instantly burst into the gaps in the enemy formation, and then viciously ripped them open even wider. The blade light was dazzling, like the claws of a fierce wolf, tearing prey into sticky, bloody pulp.

No encouragement was needed, no orders were needed. Soldiers on both sides swung their blades at each other, using the force and courage they displayed to choose their own path to survival or their end. When one side’s will to survive overwhelmed the other’s, death was born.

This was nothing more than a clash of bestial nature against bestial nature.

On the battlefield, it was actually instinct that decided how we chose.

“Break them in one charge!” Fred roared with his eyes wide open. His eyes were filled with wild, bloodshot veins, bright red, like streetlights marking the road of the dead. In an instant, his face was covered in blood, and his armor had almost completely turned red. It had been stained so many times by so many enemies’ blood that its original bright, deep black could no longer be seen. Several strands of bright red flesh hung from the grip of his war blade, giving him a somewhat eerie, bloody beauty.

“Kill!” I heard a hysterical voice burst out from my throat. The voice was hoarse and crazy, and even I myself felt afraid. In the chaos, whether it was a spear or a long saber, something slashed across my face. In that instant, I felt a cool sensation, and then a warm, wet touch spread across my right cheek.

I didn’t even feel pain before blood had already flowed into my mouth. The bitter, fishy, salty taste stung my lips, making me unable to resist sticking out my tongue and licking it lightly.

In an instant, an inexplicable impulse rushed into my head. I raised my sword and pointed at a Cretan cavalry officer charging at me, and shouted loudly, “Let me taste what your blood tastes like!”

Perhaps my expression at that time really was ferocious and terrifying. Perhaps my lips and tongue stained red by my own blood scared him, making him believe that I really was such a bloodthirsty and cruel battlefield killer. In any case, when my sword took his head, he did nothing but let out a terrified scream. He didn’t even raise his weapon.

Only after I madly licked the bloodstained blade did I realize what I was doing. The fishy stench coming from the blade hit my nose heavily, making me almost vomit.

But my actions had already been seen by everyone. Fred shouted, “Blood as proof, no victory, no return!” and casually cut down an unfortunate Cretan soldier, then lightly licked his blade like I had done. The slight frown on his face told me: the taste of human blood was not good.

This action produced an effect far greater than anyone had expected. Our soldiers went crazy. They imitated Fred and greedily licked the blood on their weapons. In just a moment, crimson lips became the common mark of the Star Knights, and “Blood as proof, no victory, no return” also became the unchanging battle cry on every mouth. We completely overwhelmed the opponents in front of us, both in force and in spirit. Stubborn Cretan warriors might have been able to fight against any brave enemy, but what kind of courage could you ask them to summon in order to face a group of madmen who loved blood?

Not long after, this act of licking enemy blood was treated as a ritual and preserved in this great army. Perhaps this was the brightest and most remarkable mark I, an obscure son of a tavern owner, had left on this world.

But I did not take pride in it. Long afterward, I was still regretful, regretting that I had made this crazy move. Yes, my move made this army stronger, but at the same time, I also pushed more young men into the ranks of these blood lovers, turning them into truly cold-blooded war machines. More people died because of this, and more wars were born because of this.

“Reinforcements! Reinforcements are coming!” Just when the two enemy forces in front of us were almost collapsing, a desperate cry came from their mouths. From due south of Chamela City, heavy blasts of war horns came. Dust flew everywhere, and a force of no fewer than three thousand men appeared on the horizon.

The fourth reinforcement force of the Cretans had arrived.

Fred became anxious. Although the enemies in front of him had lost their fighting spirit, they had not yet been completely routed. If he gave up chasing them at this moment, he would surely suffer a powerful counterattack from them. But he absolutely could not ignore the newly arrived reinforcement force. Which way to go? In such a situation, even Fred could not help hesitating.

“Fred, give me five hundred men, and I’ll hold them off!” I saw Fred’s predicament. Some kind of force made my blood surge and my head heat up. I reined in my horse and shouted loudly at him.

Hearing my shout, Fred turned his head and looked at me. There was an indecisive look on his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end didn’t say it.

“Once you’re done here, come support me!” Seeing his hesitant expression, I became even more determined. Yes, my friend cherished me, cared for me, did not want to put me in danger, and placed my life above this battle. What more could I complain about? Wasn’t this the time for me to step forward, protect my friend’s life and ideals, and share the heavy burden on his shoulders?

“Fred, let me go!” I pleaded earnestly.

He looked at the battlefield in front of him, then at the enemies approaching step by step. He frowned tightly, and finally made up his mind:

“Very well, Lieutenant Colonel Gid, lead your troops and meet the enemy coming from the south. You must not let them approach the main siege formation!” He addressed me by my rank. This was an order from my superior, not the wish of my friend. I could understand the difference between the two.

“Yes, sir!” I saluted solemnly with my sword. The person I saluted was not Fred, the loyal friend who regarded me as a lifelong best friend, but the great frontline commander of the Delanmaya Army, the General of the Kingdom, Marquis Ka Guderian.

“Jeff!” At the moment I turned my horse to leave, Fred suddenly called out to stop me.

“If you die, then for me this victory loses its meaning. Remember my words.”

A sour feeling in my nose blocked my throat, and I could not make any sound. I didn’t even dare turn back to look at that heroic figure. Strong emotions stuck in my chest. A feeling that was neither sour nor hot surged in my heart, making my limbs tremble slightly.

What if—I mean, what if a great figure who shone over the whole world like the sun and moon, worthy of everyone’s worship and admiration, unhesitatingly chose the latter between his honor and your friendship, what would you do?

Few people could answer such a question, because few people could truly experience such a feeling.

I can tell you, this feeling made people cry with joy. You would feel that this friendship had gradually left your feelings and thoughts, truly merged into your life, and become part of your breathing and heartbeat. You could no longer describe it with words like “precious” or “cherished.” It was a necessity in your life. Even death could not pull it away from your soul.

Ahead were many enemy troops who had just joined the battle. Behind us were soldiers who had already begun to grow tired. The only things I could rely on were the sword in my hand and the blessing of my dear friend.

“Jeff, we’re here.” Just as we were getting closer to the enemy, a gentle but clear voice sounded in my ear. The voice truly rang in “my ear,” and I was the only one who could hear it.

I was familiar with this voice and this clever magical method. I turned around and saw Poirot, holding a wooden staff, and Miss Eliot, the Dark Elf—small in stature but swinging a huge chain flail—leading a unit rushing in the same direction. They had originally been with Red Flame, using half our forces to face another enemy unit. Since they had appeared here, the battle situation on Red Flame’s side had probably already been brought under control.

Seeing Poirot, I felt much more at ease. When using magic to coordinate with soldiers in battle, such a powerful spellcaster was definitely a companion worth relying on.

After we gathered our troops, that enemy force had already appeared not far ahead. Just like their allies, they focused entirely on charging at our main formation, completely ignoring our existence.

“Good! Target straight ahead, all troops charge! Blood as proof, no victory, no return!” I shouted, waving my longsword and charging straight at them. Various magical effects appeared on my body at just the right time. In an instant, I felt full of energy and light.

“Blood as proof, no victory, no return!” Accompanied by the shouts of several hundred people, we plunged head-on into the enemy crowd. Our opponents clearly had not expected us to charge into them head-on with so few people, and they were caught unprepared to resist our attack. But with their combat power, they were far from able to shake the offensive of this strange cavalry.

Cavalry—this branch of troops that ran freely across the plains and dominated the battlefield—had completely lost its threat to us. The speed, strength, and powerful impact that cavalry relied on had been raised by us to the highest point. Perhaps only large-scale heavy cavalry formations would give us major trouble. And under the pressure of absolute power, roaming cavalry were easier to scatter than infantry—especially when their numbers were not better than ours.

We routed them in a very short time, then turned to our real enemy: infantry.

Yes, infantry. Although cavalry were almost naturally born as the bane of infantry, for us, when infantry reached a certain numerical advantage, they were far harder to deal with than cavalry. No matter how dense a cavalry formation was, when they began to charge, there was always an opening. As long as we seized the flaw and scattered them from within, even cavalry several times our number would fall in our hands. But infantry formations were often large in number, dense, and solid. For us, whose most powerful weapon was speed and rapid penetration to break up formations, that was a fatal disadvantage. Even if we killed the enemies and sent them fleeing in all directions, the speed of infantry fleeing on foot was just too slow—slow enough to drag down our speed as well, and like ordinary cavalry, turn us into huge targets inside an infantry encirclement. At such times, we certainly could not say, “Please run a little faster, at least as fast as horses, so that you can scatter your formation and let us have a killing spree.”

Strange, wasn’t it? When you became powerful to a certain degree, the originally weak became your natural enemy.

And this was exactly the predicament we were currently in.

In order to block the enemy, we had to abandon the reasonable tactic of attacking from the flanks and launch a frontal charge against an enemy that held an absolute numerical advantage. We were capable of breaking through the Cretan infantry formation with ease, sinking into the depths of their ranks like the tip of a spear. But our absolute numerical disadvantage doomed us: we could not widen that wound, nor could we pierce through the entire formation in one go. The final result could only be: we were surrounded.

We were surrounded. Around us, thousands of Cretan soldiers surrounded us tightly like a wine barrel, step by step squeezing our room to move, pressing us into the deepest part of their formation. Their commander clearly discovered how dangerous we were. He stopped paying attention to the siege troops under Chamela City, concentrated all his forces, and turned to deal with us with all his might.

In the direction ahead of me, more and more Cretan soldiers surged out. Spears stabbed at my body through the dense crowd of men and weapons, leaving wounds on me from time to time. Even though I had cast spells to increase my defense, waves of pain still came frequently, and blood slowly but continuously drained from my body.

Not long after, the worst situation appeared:

After nearly a whole morning of fierce fighting, our mages finally drained their mana and could no longer provide powerful support to the soldiers. One by one, the magical effects on the soldiers disappeared, and with them came the discomfort of losing power. This discomfort made men feel extremely tired, even worse than ordinary soldiers with full strength.

When the last gleam of light on my body disappeared, that empty, drained feeling almost broke me all at once. If I had not once received Carlson’s extraordinary physical training, I would certainly have collapsed and died from weakness in the enemies’ hands. Even though I escaped with my life from the dense attacks, I clearly felt my reactions slowing down, while the enemies’ attacks became sharper and faster.

Around me, our soldiers fell bravely one by one. Even in death, they displayed the noble qualities a soldier should have. They surrounded all the mages on the inside, using their own flesh and blood to block fatal attacks for them. I didn’t know whether this was the result of our strict training or the instinct of these young men to protect their comrades.

“Poirot, watch out!” Just as I was fighting desperately, I heard Eliot’s anxious shout beside me, and then came a scream of pain from her. My heart tightened. Using all my strength, I knocked aside the incoming weapons and hurriedly turned to look at the Dark Elf beside me.

She lay on the ground, a spear thrust into her left chest. Her blood, which was darker than a human’s, poured out in waves, flowing down her neck and face. She frowned tightly and gasped in pain. Her originally dark-purple lips had become pale. Poirot knelt beside her, at a loss, trying to cover her wound with his hands and calling her name.

“Eli, Eli, answer me, Eli. You can’t die. Wake up!” The frivolous and wild Necromantic Warlock had disappeared at this moment, replaced by a young man desperate with fear. He used all his efforts to stop the blood gushing from the Dark Elf’s wound, and then could only shout loudly, using his voice to save the woman who was important in his life. In private, he had many times refused the love of the girl of another race, but that was completely because a young man loved life and freedom. Countless times in private, he mentioned this foreign assistant to us, praising her, singing her praises, sparing no beautiful word for her. Whenever this happened, his face carried a love he could not let go of, as if his forehead bore the mark of a slave.

Hesitating because of cherishing, avoiding because of shyness—this was probably what was called “love.” But now, all of this was gradually fading away, leaving only regretful tears and a heart full of self-blame.

The Cretans would not leave Poirot time to be alone with her. While his mind was wandering, a spear stabbed toward him. His eyes looked at the sharp weapon, but it seemed he saw nothing at all and did not move.

“Clang!” At the last moment, I knocked aside that spear. It lost its aim and grazed Poirot’s left arm.

I didn’t know whether it was pain or despair that woke Poirot up. He raised his head, slowly lifted his left hand. The mark of the Death God’s Eye on the back of his hand was especially clear at this time, giving off a frightening aura of death.

“It was you. You hurt Eli. I will make you pay with your lives!” Poirot’s voice was as calm as the water of a waveless lake, but it made me, standing beside him, feel a chill in my heart.

One after another, unintelligible incantations came from his mouth. Even the weapons that occasionally grazed him did not interrupt them. I did not understand a single word he said, but I still felt that every sound he made was so evil, so evil that one could not help but want to kill him immediately.

With a wave of Poirot’s left hand, streaks of black light shot out. This was the second time in my life I had seen such black, bright light. I still remembered that the last time I saw it, it had produced a terrifying corpse that one would never forget.

Those streaks of black light flew into the corpses of several Cretan soldiers on the ground. Then, everyone saw a terrible thing:

Those corpses slowly came back to life, picked up their weapons, and pounced on the comrades they had been fighting alongside just a moment before. In an instant, their weapons were already covered with Cretan blood. Their movements were stiff, their eyes had no life in them, and at the same time, they showed no fear at all of the blades coming at them. Although there were fewer than ten of them, the fear they brought had already spread across the entire battlefield.

Controlling dead bodies—I knew this magic and had even mentioned it privately with Poirot. This magic reshaped the souls of the dead, forcing them to return to their original bodies and obey the orders of the caster. Poirot extremely hated this magic that twisted the souls of the dead and, against their will, forcibly turned them into killing machines. He called it “the greatest desecration of the dead.”

And now, he was using this magic, expressing his anger through the act he hated most. Looking at his indifferent eyes, I knew he had not lost his reason, but had lost his heart.

“Pff…” Forcibly using magic after exhaustion caused great harm to the body. Poirot spat out a mouthful of blood. But he showed no sign of stopping. In a blink, he began to cast a new spell again. He had already lost the most precious person to him. At this moment, in his eyes, even his own life had become unimportant.

I could not let him continue like this. Taking advantage of his unpreparedness, I struck him hard on the back of the head and knocked him out. Indeed, what he was doing might buy us more time, might save more of our soldiers, but I truly could not sit by and watch him torture himself and his soul in this way. Like Fred, Poirot was also a friend I cherished. I would rather die proudly on the battlefield with him than use his soul in exchange for my own survival.

“If you die, then this victory has no meaning for me”—these were the most precious words Fred had ever said to me. I didn’t know whether I was qualified to share these words with Poirot, but I had to do it. Yes, I was selfish. For the sake of my friendship, I would rather sacrifice the lives of more of my brave soldiers. For this bit of selfishness, I was willing to atone with my own life.

“Jeff, hold on!” Just when I was despairingly raising my longsword, intending to resist my enemies one last time, a bright voice came from outside the formation. Fred—it was Fred. He had come. He had arrived as promised.

“The city has fallen! We have won! Remember my words, Jeff. You cannot die. I’m here!”

This news gave a shot of adrenaline to all the Star Knights who were still alive. Everyone’s hearts were shaken. For the sake of our humble lives, we used our last strength to show our bravery. Even the mages who had always been protected in the inner circle now picked up weapons they were not familiar with and began to resist.

One sword stroke, two sword strokes, three sword strokes… At this moment, I staggered, with stars floating in front of my eyes, but I still put up a stubborn resistance. I had a promise with my friend, a promise to meet again. This promise made me unafraid of death, but made me cherish my own life.

“Pff…” A spray of blood burst beside me, and then came countless figures wearing familiar armor. In my daze, a handsome figure with black hair dismounted from his horse and walked up to me. His face was tired and proud. In my blurred eyes at this moment, it carried a sacred and kind glow.

“Jeff, I’m here.” The voice was warm and calm, making my heart warm and peaceful.

“You’re here…” I tried hard to squeeze out a smile. Suddenly, my vision went black, my body went soft. An irresistible force pulled my bones downward, almost tearing my limbs apart. Then, I gradually lost consciousness.

Before I lost consciousness, I felt a pair of gentle and strong hands catch me, hold me up firmly, and never let go.

This feeling made one feel safe…