Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 396 - 395: The Northern Rout

The disaster from the sky shows no signs of stopping.

Unable to see where the enemy is, nor understand what this attack actually is. Even the wisest Mage in the Allied Army—if they can still think at this moment—couldn’t fathom what Spell could reach so far, with such power, and feel no Mana fluctuation before hitting the target, all defying the common sense of Magic!

In truth, until a continuous barrage of shells fell on their heads, turning the entire open ground to scorched earth, only a few realized they were being "attacked." Many didn’t realize combat had begun, nor did they understand that the force killing them was the power of the Cecil Clan.

They were bombed, smashed, vaporized in bewilderment, in their final brief moments, their minds couldn’t even connect this calamity, akin to Heavenly Punishment, with the "Cecil Expedition" they were undertaking.

Only after almost all front-line Soldiers were obliterated, with Knights perishing at a rapid rate, did the remaining Mages, Knights, and priests begin to react, or guess the reason behind the incomprehensible nightmare before them. Someone frantically shouted: "Cecil Clan! The Cecil Clan is attacking!!"

But this shout was weak like a mosquito’s buzz in the continuous explosions. Soon, the owner of the shout disappeared with his voice in a new explosion crater, while many others were killed by the shockwave of the exploding shells.

Those who were slow due to indiscipline were lucky. Falling behind, they witnessed firsthand the nightmarish scene on the plains from the mountain path of Broken Stone Ridge. They saw former powerful Knights and Mages rolling in the "Skyfire Explosion," crawling on the ground clutching broken limbs. Within a few breaths, thousands of vanguard troops turned to ash. The few survivors were terrified to the core, but soon faced the same fatal threat.

The warhorses were terrified.

The Knights’ warhorses were trained to remain calm in face of Mage-created Magic explosions, but this training had its limits. The concentrated artillery bombardment, vastly different from sporadic Fireball Techniques, exceeded the warhorses’ tolerance. Thus, deadlier chaos erupted within the Allied Army.

Panic-stricken warhorses began to charge wildly through the formations with their masters. The aristocratic private Soldiers, scared senseless, immediately lost the suppressing control of the aristocratic Knights. Frantically shouting, they started retreating in fear. Only a few aristocrats and their Knights, still with some courage, loudly called out amidst the chaos, trying to restore order with their authority. But soon, even they were toppled by their own frantic warhorses. In the next few minutes, at least a third of them were trampled into pulp by rampaging hooves and iron boots, while the rest were swept along the mountain path in a frantic escape—

Yet, more troops, oblivious to the truth, kept pouring in from behind.

The Allied Army stretched too long a line. When the vanguard turned to ash under the artillery, mid-section and rear Soldiers were still on the mountain path at Broken Stone Ridge. They heard loud explosions from afar, mistaking them for the frequent thunder echoes during spring. Superstitious soldiers from the southern borders mostly believed that spring thunder signifies bad omens, especially with warnings not to stay in the mountains when spring thunder sounds, for fear of turning into rocks atop the peaks—thus, subsequent troops quickened their pace and collided with retreating troops ahead.

One side desperately wanted to flee, the other continued advancing. All aristocratic private Soldiers used different flags, orders, and even dialects. Massive chaos erupted on the hill at Broken Stone Ridge. Bewildered Soldiers ran wildly in the crowd, some pushed back onto the doomsday-like plains, others rolling down cliffs in the chaos. Deafening explosions and cries finally surged towards Broken Stone Ridge. Someone shouted, "Defeated in the front!" causing chaos to reach lethal levels.

Viscount Carol was forcibly pushed back by the front troops, clueless as to what happened ahead, only vaguely hearing mentions related to those thunder sounds, alongside soldiers gone mad, running and shouting Cecil Clan has a thousand archMages, instantly demolishing Count Hosman and his entire Corps. These maddening reports and the present retreat of the Allied Army battered the poor Viscount’s heart, struggling to maintain balance on horseback while protected by Knights, his mind too chaotic to think.

The mighty Allied Army has utterly disintegrated, shattered like a dropped plate. Knights and aristocratic leaders attempted several times to reorganize, but ultimately could only flee with the troops, helpless on Broken Stone Ridge’s mid-section. Surviving twenty-some aristocrats and their retinues scurried about like headless flies. Amidst anxiety, Viscount Carol looked around, seeing less than half managed to follow him—others either tumbled down the slope or got scattered by the surging crowd.

Gradually, Viscount Carol noticed the fleeing troops regrouped. Among the crowd, he saw a familiar flag bearing the Gran Family emblem.

Lady Ropenny Gran rode out from the crowd with a group of strong, reassuring guards. Approaching Viscount Carol, she loudly said, "Quick, follow—I’ve gathered some people! We’re heading northeast!"

The Lady’s high-pitched tone and straightforward speaking style lacked aristocratic embellishments, devoid of ornate words or decorative endings, yet Viscount Carol found it incredibly endearing and reliable at this moment. He immediately rode to follow, loudly commanding his remaining loyal Knights behind him, "Follow, follow the Gran Family flag! Ignore those militia and serf Soldiers!"

Outside Broken Stone Ridge, on a distant high ground, a cleverly camouflaged sentinel tower hid amidst the canopies of giantwoods. Atop the tower, a Soldier in Cecil-style armor lowered a long telescope.

The Soldier turned to his companion behind him and said, "Send a signal, three red and two yellow."

Soon after, several custom-made light grenades launched skyward, bursting into colorful smoke clouds.

On Windward Hill, a pass messages Soldier ran up to Sir Philip: "Sir, the observation post sent a signal—half the artillery hit, the enemy has begun retreating."

"Turns out we didn’t need the thunder field and close-defense positions at all... they’re indeed a rabble," Sir Philip couldn’t help but shake his head, "Forget it, cease fire after the heavy cannon finishes this round, send a signal to the Second Legion, have them catch the enemy, don’t let them escape."

After the orderly had left, Sir Philip let out a slight sigh: "Signal flares are indeed a great tool, but they can only convey such simple messages... I wonder when Master Kamel’s communication device will be ready for testing..."

With a sigh, the young knight raised his head and looked towards where the Kant Knights and the Second Legion they led were stationed.

Wald and his subordinates had not yet come to their senses.

The continuous roar of the gigantic accelerated cannons, the orderly commands and execution, and the distant rumbling explosions made this war feel completely different from what they knew.

This didn’t resemble the "battle" where knights and warriors fought face to face, but felt more like some kind of mechanical operation... much like those mechanical clocks crafted by skilled artisans.

The Cecil Corps flipped switches with precision, the cannons fired with precision, the enemy died with precision—operating, and then yielding results.

It was only at this moment that Margarita and her fellow knights realized why the leader didn’t need the Second Legion and Kant Knights on the battlefield... For those who hadn’t yet mastered the ray guns, entering such a battle would only add to the chaos.

But just as the Kant Knights were overwhelmed with shock and self-doubt, Philip came among them.

"Knights, didn’t you want to join the battle?—Now your mission has arrived."

Wald Peric looked at Philip in confusion: "Us? Isn’t it already over?"

"Who said the war ends just because the enemy retreats?" Philip smiled, "Before the expedition, the leader told me something—The enemy has the right to open fire, but when to cease fire is up to us. Count Hosman previously sent over the challenge to Cecil, now Cecil will respond to his challenge in its own way... Knights, rally your forces, and with the First Corps, pursue the invading enemy."

Though something seemed off in his words, the Kant Knights, eager for a chance to prove themselves, wouldn’t mind those details—a chance for thousands to pursue tens of thousands isn’t easily found.

They immediately ran excitedly to gather their men, preparing to lead them on the expedition.

Meanwhile, as the fifty-thousand-strong Allied Army was swiftly routed in the Broken Stone Ridge region and began a dramatic retreat, another army gathered under Count Hosman’s call was completely unaware of the dreadful fate that befell their northern brothers.

The short and stout Count Franing Peibo stood on the ship’s bow, using the cool river breeze to dispel the remnants of last night’s drunken haze, gazing at the various battleships on the river. Realizing that twenty thousand were heading to the frontlines under his command, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.

In the southern territories, Earl Peibo wasn’t a man of high repute, but his family had been established here for a long time. In fact, as early as the Cecil Era, the ancestors of Earl Peibo were already local aristocracy here. During the great upheaval a hundred years ago, the Peibo family preserved their title and fief by aligning with the right side. Though they inevitably suffered some association with Cecil, losing much of their prestige and influence, at least—the Peibo surname still held the Earldom.

Franing Peibo’s lifelong aspiration was to restore the family’s glory, to make the Peibo name regain its voice in the southern territories, and to match the influence befit of an Earl.

Now, he believed the opportunity had come.

By strongly supporting Count Hosman’s implementation of the "Magic Web," investing funds, manpower, and resources to help Carloff Hosman extend the Magic Web throughout the southern territories, and being the first to respond to Count Hosman’s call to arms, providing all the family’s generations-worth of riverboats as "battleships," his investments were proven worthwhile.

He finally had these twenty thousand troops, an opportunity to lead an Allied Army as an Earl and seize fame.

If he could secure the route from the White River to the Cecil territory and ensure the safety of the White River Banks before Count Hosman’s army marched south, he could make the Peibo name resonate throughout the southern territories once more.

(Life is indeed about striving!)