Chapter 323: A Rout Like a Falling Mountain
With the islanders no longer guarding the palisade, the Nilfgaardians were in no hurry to climb. Instead, they first used their axes to chop off the sharpened parts of the stakes at the bottom of the trench. Although it wasted some time, at least if they were to accidentally fall, they wouldn't be impaled.
After that, they began to climb again. Without the islanders' interference, the Nilfgaardians made it over the fence with little trouble. They moved the obstacles in the middle of the palisade, found some planks behind it, and laid them over the trench to allow the rest of their forces to cross more quickly.
With the obstacles cleared, the Nilfgaardians charged forward, their faces flushed with exhilaration. They poured over the trench and into the palisade. The layout behind the palisade was strange, almost like a trap. The islanders had erected two more fences to the left and right, leaving only a narrow space in the middle, just wide enough for about five people to walk side-by-side.
Additionally, a trench had been dug outside of these two side fences, running parallel to them for a hundred meters before finally merging. This inverted U-shaped trench was not as wide as the one the Nilfgaardians had just struggled to cross; it was barely wide enough for a person to crouch at the bottom.
The Tuirseach forces, who had been pushed back by the archers, stopped on the other side of this new trench. They didn't continue to flee and seemed ready to make a final stand.
The Nilfgaardians, however, weren't worried at all. In fact, they laughed. The islanders had only a small trench between them, one that could be easily jumped across. Where did they get the confidence to face them head-on? Led by their officers, the Nilfgaardians reformed their ranks and began to slowly advance toward the islanders.
And that's when it happened. Dozens of Clan Drummond soldiers suddenly emerged from the side trenches, each holding an alchemy bomb.
The faces of the Nilfgaardians, crammed into the narrow space between the palisades, paled instantly.
"Throw them!" Lugos the Mad roared.
The Drummond soldiers, who had been lying in ambush, immediately hurled their alchemy bombs into the crowded Nilfgaardian ranks.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Amidst the earth-shattering explosions, limbs and torsos were sent flying. The pulverized remains of flesh fell like rain. The Nilfgaardians, who had been so full of confidence moments ago, were now screaming in agony. Soldiers who had survived the blast crawled on the ground, clutching their dismembered limbs. The space between the fences became a living hell.
Even the islanders hadn't fought a battle like this. But Count Torgier and Crach were leaders who knew that a fleeting opportunity had to be seized. Count Torgier immediately ordered his own forces to split and move to the sides. The Clan an Craite forces, who had been resting and had now recovered their strength, charged through the middle, swapping places with the Tuirseach forces.
In the front rank of the an Craite forces were Lynn, Gerd, and Crach. Crach didn't give the order to attack; he gave that honor to the witcher.
"Witcher Lynn, give the order."
Lynn nodded. He raised his greatsword, Gwyhyr.
The Clan an Craite soldiers let out a fanatic cheer.
"Charge!"
Lynn leaped over the trench, pouncing on the disorganized Nilfgaardians. Gerd, Crach, and the other an Craite soldiers followed closely behind him.
The situation was instantly reversed. Moments ago, the Nilfgaardians were about to finish off the Skelligers, but now the roles of hunter and prey had switched.
It had to be said, there was a reason the Nilfgaardian army had been able to sweep across the South for the last few decades. Even after the combined effects of the initial bomb blast, the heavy casualties, and the terrified screams of the dying, a small number of soldiers were still able to muster the courage to face the charging an Craite forces. These hastily assembled men, without even time to form ranks, charged forward on sheer adrenaline. They didn't think they could beat the islanders' attack; they had simply decided to sacrifice themselves to buy their comrades time to regroup.
Unfortunately, their brave and selfless act was utterly futile.
With a single wave of his hands, Gerd's sword swept horizontally, sending two Nilfgaardian soldiers flying. Then Lynn shot past him, Gwyhyr a blur of steel. A Nilfgaardian soldier clutched his throat and fell. Then, Lynn pushed his left hand forward.
A master-level Aard Sign transformed into a terrifying tornado. It lifted over twenty armored Nilfgaardian soldiers high into the air before slamming them back down.
Seeing this, the an Craite soldiers' morale surged. They cut down Nilfgaardian soldier after soldier. The Tuirseach forces followed close behind, and the Drummond forces climbed over the fences, hitting the Nilfgaardians from the sides.
The Nilfgaardians were pushed back, their faces filled with terror as they saw Lynn at the head of the charge, his Gwyhyr a whirlwind of steel. Not a single Nilfgaardian could last even a second against him. The witcher, who had already ingested a large number of superior potions, was a perfectly engineered war machine.
Superior Blizzard gave him bullet time, Superior Thunderbolt enhanced his strength, Superior Cat Potion improved his agility, Superior Tawny Owl accelerated his mana regeneration, and Superior Petri's Philter boosted his Signs. On top of that, a battle in a war was not like a simple skirmish. There was always a chance of getting injured on the front lines, so Lynn had also drunk a Superior Swallow Potion beforehand.
He had, of course, shared some of these potions with Gerd. But because Gerd's poison resistance wasn't as high as Lynn's, Gerd only drank the Superior Thunderbolt, Superior Blizzard, and Superior Cat Potion.
With Lynn and Gerd as the spearhead, the Nilfgaardian soldiers were gripped by fear. Faced with these two slaughtering gods and the islanders following close behind, no Nilfgaardian could remain calm and collected.
The Nilfgaardians fell back in panicked shouts. The men behind them, not knowing what had happened, were forced to retreat as well. And soon, the retreat turned into a full-blown rout.
In truth, Lynn and Gerd had only killed a few dozen Nilfgaardian soldiers. Even if you included the casualties from the alchemy bombs, the total was less than two hundred. Nearly a thousand Nilfgaardian soldiers had successfully landed on the beach. Their numbers still exceeded the islanders'.
But the problem was that the islanders' counter-attack had inflicted a far more terrible result on the Nilfgaardians: panic.
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