"Prepare the Charging Spear for a charge!"

"Charge!"

"Kill!"

The thunderous sound of hooves was accompanied by the knights' war cries. Those barbarian mercenaries who reacted quickly had already started to run, but how could they possibly outrun the charging warhorses?

From discovery to engagement happened in a flash, only chaotic shouts were heard in the darkness, and no one could clearly see what was happening.

When it finally calmed down and the torches were lit, they illuminated the Order of Knights led by Bruce.

And the scattered corpses on the ground, wearing armor was futile, as lances pierced through them, iron hooves trampling over, leaving only a bloody mess.

Individual bravery vanished in the face of superior equipment, which was why the priest of the Fang Tribe understood that even with Warwolf ascending to legendary status, it only increased internal competition.

After all, weren't there enough legendary barbarians encircled and killed in past great battles?

The lieutenant, having just impaled a barbarian with his lance during the charge, found satisfaction but not enough, so he couldn't help but remind Bruce.

"Captain, they're almost all gone."

Bruce glanced around, noting that those barbarians were indeed a bit clever, scattering immediately. The Order of Knights had only so many men; if they spread out, they'd lose their advantage.

"You take a team and drive them this way, make sure they don't enter Bastia's territory.

Lead a team this way; I'll be over here."

Bruce emphasized, "Don't get too close. We're outnumbered; it's easy to suffer a backlash. Your task is merely to drive them away."

"Yes!"

The knights followed Bruce's orders without question and began to move, only the lieutenant showed some discontent for not receiving orders.

"Captain, those barbarians are fleeing like wild dogs, why not wipe them out completely?"

If they hadn't stopped and executed a second charge immediately, they could have killed most of the barbarians, but that opportunity was passed.

But Bruce had his own reasoning.

If they were all crippled, sending them to Hamlet would still be pointless; his goal was to let them pass.

Of course, he couldn't say that, so he sternly reprimanded.

"You're so greedy; have you considered everyone's safety? The first charge took them by surprise, but if we regroup quickly for a second charge, you'd be forcing them into a desperate confrontation.

Forcing an already cornered beast to fight in the dark of night—do you think that's wise?"

Bruce's tone turned stern, and though the lieutenant was indeed capable, Bruce had grown tired of his challenges.

Although his father had told him that to become a great man, one must be broad-minded, he also said that a leader's authority cannot be denied.

Though he wished to replace him, doing so in wartime could cause a setback, so he could only hold off for now and urged once more.

"Move immediately."

"Yes!"

The knights dispersed to pursue and drive away the barbarians...

As dawn broke through the darkness, a fully armed Order of Knights returned to camp.

The commotion stirred many new recruits awake, who couldn't help but gaze at the knights with respect.

These new soldiers, after last night's attack, had been driven to clean the camp, and had just stopped to rest briefly against the wall. In stark contrast to their exhaustion and frailty, the returning knights rode high with pride unlike ordinary men.

Each bore traces of blood, dried or fresh, on the lances hung beside their horses.

If that wasn't enough evidence, the corpses they carried proved their victory.

These were the barbarian mercenaries who had attacked the camp last night.

The battle was intense, but when they cleaned the battlefield, they found only their own dead; not a single barbarian body remained.

There might have been injuries, or the dead taken away, but this only deepened their fear of the barbarians.

However, the return of the Order of Knights showed them that the barbarians were not invincible.

"Lord Bruce will surely win!"

"Surely win!"

"..."

Someone shouted suddenly, and the soldiers couldn't resist cheering along.

Terrorized by these barbarians, they had been unable to sleep well for nights, nearly crushed by pressure, and now finally they could breathe easy.

The morale that had quite nearly plummeted finally rose again, and Bruce's reputation soared among them.

But Bruce didn't pay much attention to that because these knights were not serf soldiers eating black bread.

Their diet made them free of night blindness; well-trained since childhood, fully armed, with battle experience, each had unknown numbers of kills to their names.

Any one of them could stand alone as a knight; they only lacked a distinct fief.

This was why they wouldn't rest on their laurels; they were eager to gain merits and trade the enemy for their rightful fief to become true nobility.

This was why Bruce dared to lead them in a night pursuit.

In truth, he hadn't pursued with full force; he drove the barbarian mercenaries ahead.

Bruce's gaze shifted vaguely to a certain direction...