Seeing the crossbowmen in a panic and terrified, Brin spurred his warhorse, slowly rode to the front of the crossbow formation, then dismounted, standing at the front.
He wore the Lion Armor from Arthur's Lion's Den; at present, only he could move freely in this plate armor. His tall figure was like a black iron tower.
Brin simply stood there calmly, his tall stature seemingly building an insurmountable barrier between the crossbowmen and the charging Knights.
Seeing Brin's figure, the panicking crossbowmen finally seemed to find their backbone; the fear in their hearts was suppressed.
Their hand movements became powerful and swift again; the clicking sounds of the winches became dense and orderly.
Brin's voice was as steady as a mountain: "Wait for my command!"
"Fire together!"
"Aim for the horse's body and breastplate!"
Brin knew that Sir Arthur was right; although warhorses were also fully armored, their defense wasn't as thick as a human's, and the damage from a Knight falling off their horse was much more severe than being directly hit.
The charging Knights were now only fifty paces away.
Forty paces.
Thirty paces.
Twenty paces.
The longbowmen also drew their longbows to full draw, arrows aimed at the approaching targets, waiting for Brin's command to fire.
The last Heavy Crossbowman finally cranked his crossbow, he raised his head and shouted with all his might: "I'm ready!"
Brin raised his hand high, then sharply swung it down: "Fire!"
Dozens of heavy crossbow bolts and dozens of longbow arrows were loosed in an instant.
They whistled sharply, flying directly at the five Knights.
The distance was too close. One Knight at the very front, both he and his horse, were struck by several crossbow bolts. His warhorse let out a desperate cry, its front legs buckled, and its massive body tumbled to the ground with a crash. The Knight was flung off, rolling over a dozen times on the ground before stopping, his fate unknown.
Another Knight's shoulder was pierced by a heavy crossbow bolt; the immense impact caused his body to twist, and the lance in his hand flew out.
The mounts of the other two Knights were not spared either. Their warhorses wailed and knelt, heavily throwing their masters to the ground, or directly pinning them underneath. A young Knight's leg was crushed by his overturned warhorse; he struggled in pain but could not free himself.
Only Sir Adam, he was shot by a crossbow bolt into his faceplate, hitting his face deeply, yet he seemed to have no reaction.
His warhorse also took an arrow, but with its last strength, it carried him into the army formation.
But he was alone now.
Brin let out a roar and personally went to meet him: "Good!"
This one word was praise for the winch Heavy Crossbowmen and archers.
Brin, with his bear-like physique and the weight of the Lion Armor, charged forward, crashing directly into the side of Adam's warhorse. The warhorse, already hit by an arrow, whinnied and lost its balance, collapsing to the ground with a crash. Sir Adam was also thrown off by this immense force, falling heavily to the ground, unable to get up.
The soldiers who had followed the charge stopped abruptly; their invincible Knight Lords had fallen from their horses.
Now it was Arthur's soldiers' turn to charge.
At Brin's signal, the soldiers began to move past him and the crossbowmen, rushing towards the enemy. The two sides' infantry finally clashed, swords meeting, flesh and blood flying. Arthur's soldiers, motivated by incentives, pushed forward ferociously, surrounding the enemy, who were already outnumbered and deeply shaken by the defeat of their invincible Knight Lords. It was no longer a battle but a scramble for beheadings.
The battle quickly devolved into a merciless slaughter.
Brin drew the Lion Sword from his waist and walked towards the young Knight whose leg was pinned by his warhorse.
The young Knight looked at the approaching Brin, his face filled with fear: "I wish to exercise my rights, I surrender, I will pay a ransom for my freedom and life."
"By the Seven Gods! I demand my rights!"
Receiving no response, the young Knight began to humbly abandon his dignity and beg for mercy.
"Please! Don't kill me! I'll give you many gold dragons!"
Sir Adam struggled to sit up from the ground, leaning against his fallen warhorse. He glanced at the young Knight, then at the tall, imposing Brin who remained silent.
From the moment Jero Legge was directly shot in the first round, killing the Lord's heir of a great family indicated that the other side had no intention of leaving anyone alive. No one here would return alive.
The Old Knight shook his head. He said to the young Knight who was still crying and begging for mercy: "Child, be quiet."
"At least, die like a Knight."
Brin kicked away the longsword the young Knight tried to use for a dying struggle to block. The Lion Sword came down, ending his pleas for mercy.
Next, he walked towards another Knight struggling to get up, and pierced through the gap in his helmet with a sword.
Finally, he came before Sir Adam. The Old Knight was gasping for breath, a crossbow bolt having pierced his face through the faceplate, and foamy blood continuously seeped from the gaps in his faceplate.
The Old Knight spoke his last words: "Is this my retribution, Father?"
Brin did not speak, he didn't understand the Old Knight's meaning, nor was he particularly interested. He simply raised his sword again.
A moment later, only a dozen Legge Family infantrymen remained huddled together on the plain, surrounded by the wolf-like soldiers who had been ordered to stop, trembling with their swords raised.
Brin walked past the crowd, looking at them. His voice, devoid of emotion, told this huddled, cowering group.
"Leave no one alive."
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[patreon.com/Greyhounds]
Thank you so much for your support!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"