In the blink of an eye, Losa had already closed in to within two hundred meters of the enemy.
He could even clearly see the filthy, greasy beard that hung like a tangled thicket on the opponent's face.
Black eyes, black hair, and beard.
Are these Hungarians?
He gave the horse a sharp squeeze, and the Nisian warhorse gradually shifted from a gentle trot to a wild charge.
The wind howled past his ears, and hooves thundered beneath him.
In the instant before he was about to pass the enemy, he thrust out his lance, the sharp tip piercing through the cavalryman's chest on his left, violently flinging him away.
The intense impact made Losa's arm go numb.
Yet he breathed a sigh of relief.
This light cavalry, wearing only a padded jacket, not only had inferior weapons and equipment compared to his, but also had mediocre combat skills; clearly, not a formidable adversary.
Blood flowed down the shaft of the lance.
Seizing the moment, Losa discarded the lance, letting it drop to the ground with the dead cavalryman's body, and drew the Armed Sword from the saddle, swinging it toward another cavalryman.
Clang.
The enemy's saber hacked onto his shield, leaving only a shallow mark on the surface.
The two sides brushed past each other.
Turning his horse around, Losa charged at the cavalry again, but seeing his comrade die in an instant filled this man's face with fear.
He dared only to circle around, lacking the nerve to engage Losa directly.
Losa had no intention of pursuing him; even though the Nisian warhorse's speed slightly surpassed the opponent's mount despite the heavy load, it would still consume significant horsepower to catch up.
Moreover, with Prajna holding the rear, he wasn't afraid of anyone sneaking up behind him.
Thus, he retrieved the lance that had penetrated the enemy cavalry, ignoring the rider, and slowly galloped toward the cavalry surrounding the convoy.
The enemy's blood did not make Losa feel anxious or uneasy.
Nor did it evoke the fear or nausea that novels often associate with one's first kill.
Instead, he felt intensely excited!
"Could it be that I'm a psychopath at heart?"
Before he approached, two cavalrymen broke away from the group, charging toward Losa.
Losa fixated his eyes on the rapidly approaching enemy, his horse accelerating from a trot.
Finally, the two sides collided!
Crack!
With a deafening crash, the lance forcibly penetrated the opponent's shield.
The man was knocked flying by the overwhelming impact, but at the same time, the lance shaft, made of white beech wood, snapped.
Losa casually discarded the lance, switching to his Armed Sword.
Meanwhile, the other cavalryman's attack had already arrived; he wielded a two-handed riding spear, which Losa parried with his shield, numbing his wrist.
He countered with a reverse swing, striking the opponent's leather-bound round shield, as both halted their horses and engaged in close combat.
Losa's power and physical strength far exceeded his opponent's, quickly finding an opening and piercing through the opponent's wrist with the sword tip, forcing him to abandon his shield.
Swiftly, he sliced open the man's waist with a reverse strike, blood and viscera gushing forth, staining the brown fur of his mount.
A thrilling sensation made Losa want to let out a long howl.
For the first time, he realized: "I'm really fierce!?"
In the distance, the cavalry leader coldly watched this unfolding scene, muttering softly, and suddenly, four more cavalrymen rushed forward, covering each other.
Losa faced them fearlessly, brandishing his sword and shield, moving to confront the enemy.
…
The convoy's resistance was tough; six knights and attendants, led by the Peacock Knight, mounted an effective counterattack.
But the enemy outnumbered the knights several-fold, and in the open terrain, the infantry soldiers only provided limited firepower support, not daring to break from the convoy formation and engage in combat with the enemy.
A bearded knight shouted, "Look, it's that supportive Robin Hood. He's like a black lightning bolt! He's coming after them! Those four bastards can't stop him at all!"
Another knight showed admiration: "Indeed formidable. In my opinion, this knight's martial arts could easily win the top prize at last Vienna's knight tournament."
The Peacock Knight's face expressed delight: "Comrades, we ought to counterattack too, to show these cavalrymen the difference between knights and cavalry!"
The six knights and attendants lined up, charging at the enemy like a steel blade.
Three heavily armored knights took center stage, with three lightly armored attendants covering them, grasping their lances under their arms, deploying the standard lance-charge tactic.
The cavalry facing them were instantly cleaved open like decayed wood.
Even the attendants, experienced professional soldiers after years of training, worked seamlessly with their respective masters.
The cavalry leader glanced back at Losa, watching as he swiftly took down two of the four cavalrymen encircling him.
Where did this Robin Hood come from, killing his way through here?
After weighing the options, he ultimately ordered a retreat.
The cavalry rapidly dispersed like retreating tides, leaving behind over a dozen corpses and riderless mounts pacing across the grassland.
The system notification sounded:
Congratulations on completing the first milestone: First Battle Victory.
You have earned a chance to draw a card of ordinary quality.
Losa exhaled deeply, with no intent to chase.
These cavalry seemed more like a band of nomads, with outdated equipment and backward tactics; in all aspects, they could hardly compare to knights rigorously trained in militarization from a young age.