"Charge."
As wave after wave of enemies struggled ashore, the order rang out among the cavalry.
Nolan held his shield in one hand and raised his lance with the other. Fully armored, Torrent was still the fastest, carrying him at the very front of the charge.
Every cavalryman who had been on patrol, retainers and noble knights alike, now seemed to turn into a pack of savage beasts, surging out from the left side of the hill in a single mass.
There were only a few dozen of them, yet when they moved, their momentum felt like that of tens of thousands.
The thunder of hooves was deafening. The impact hit like a colossal hammer, smashing straight into enemies who had not even had time to find their footing and sending them flying.
The cavalry charge tore through the enemy formation like a hot knife through butter, forcibly splitting them into two groups, one stranded on the shore, the other still below by the water.
Under the thrust of lances, the soldiers' cloth armor looked laughably fragile, offering no real protection at all.
The razor-sharp spearheads seemed imbued with Impaling Thrust, piercing straight through flesh and bone. Blood burst forth in an instant, soaking the ground crimson.
But the knights never let bodies hang from their lances. That would only slow the next strike.
They aimed with precision, ripping through only part of the enemy's body, more than enough to strip them of the ability to fight.
Not everyone possessed a will as hard as steel. When the searing agony of mutilation slammed into their nerves, very few could still lift their weapons and keep fighting.
Working in perfect coordination with the archers behind them, the cavalry methodically cleaned up the remaining enemies on the shore while hurling oil-filled Firebombs toward the ships on the lake.
In an instant, vessel after vessel was engulfed in roaring flames, the fire spreading with terrifying speed.
The soldiers aboard screamed in agony, leaping into the lake without hesitation, hoping the water might save them from the sea of fire.
With their own men now caught up there, they no longer dared to throw Cuckoo Glintstones. Those things made no distinction between friend and foe, and one explosion would kill far more allies than enemies.
Just then, another ship crept closer. A Firebomb traced a graceful arc through the air, only to be shattered mid-flight by an Arrow.
A knight stood proudly at the bow, his gaze cold and indifferent as he silently surveyed the shore.
His armor was far more ornate than that of the others, and the long tassel atop his helm was a vivid red. One look at his attire made it clear he was no ordinary figure.
"The Vice Commander has come all the way here? Looks like they won't stop until the royal domain is taken."
Nolan was familiar with the Cuckoo Legion's structure. It was simple enough.
One Legion Commander, one Vice Commander, several Knight Commanders, and beneath them, ordinary knights and soldiers.
Though it was their first encounter, that helm was unmistakably the Vice Commander's.
With a casual swing of his sword, Nolan cleanly split a Cuckoo soldier in two.
The body fell apart, blood gushing like a fountain and splattering across the muddy battlefield, leaving behind a shocking crimson stain.
Yanking on Torrent's reins, Nolan leapt forward, carving a smooth arc through the air before landing firmly on the open ground ahead.
On the battlefield, no words were needed. Hank and the others instantly understood his intent. Shields up and weapons ready, they formed up behind him, intercepting the incoming Arrows.
What could inspire morale more than taking an enemy commander's head from the midst of countless foes?
There was no time to wonder whether Nolan could win. They only knew that with so few of them, even if they held the advantage for now, it would not last.
Whether they died where they stood or fled in disgrace, the fall of the city was unavoidable.
If that was the case, they might as well gamble everything.
Arrows hammered relentlessly against the knights' heavy shields, the clatter sharp and violent, like thunder as a god struck a steel drum.
Perhaps it truly was the blessing of the full moon. Layer upon layer of clouds quietly swallowed its light, hiding the entire squad within the endless curtain of night.
The darkness was like an enormous black shroud, so dense it felt as though it could drip, making it impossible to clearly see anything ahead.
Whether it was simply the pitch-black night blurring their vision, or the favor of Lady Luck smiling upon them, a few arrows missed the shields and instead plunged straight into the crowd.
The Cuckoo soldiers had no time to evade. Shrill screams rang out at once.
In the blink of an eye, the distance had already widened to more than ten meters.
Standing on the shore, Nolan used the weak yet steady glow of the torches to clearly see the Cuckoo Vice Commander make it safely onto land.
The Vice Commander snatched up a sharp war spear, locked his gaze onto the charging knight, and hurled it with all his strength.
At the very instant the man raised his arm, Nolan twisted his left wrist, rotating the shield into position and setting his stance.
Parry!
The shield swept out, slamming hard into the incoming spear.
Spear and shield collided with almost inhuman force, erupting in a burst of blinding sparks before the spear was knocked violently aside by the sheer impact.
Nolan spurred Torrent into a full sprint. Hooves thundered across the ground, flinging clods of mud into the air.
His lance punched through three Cuckoo soldiers in rapid succession, blood spraying with each strike. He loosened his grip and let the bodies, skewered like candied hawthorn, tumble to the ground. In the same motion, he swiftly drew the Promised Claymore from his spirit ring.
The uninterrupted charge gave way to an even more ferocious burst of speed. Nolan and Torrent moved as one, surging through the crowd in an instant. The greatsword flashed coldly as it drove forward with brutal force.
"How is that possible!?"
Ingram's eyes went wide. By the light of the flames, he had clearly seen how Nolan blocked the thrown spear, and that was exactly why he was so shaken.
No one rose to the rank of Vice Commander without real skill.
There was no time to dwell on it. Several Firebombs and jars of pungent oil came hurtling toward him like falling stars.
They said those covered in fur feared fire, and while he was only a normal human and far less hairy than most monsters, that did not mean he was any less afraid of being burned alive.
The Cuckoo knight kicked off the ground and scrambled away, half rolling, half running. The crash of shattering pottery followed as the jars burst apart. The items made from mushrooms and Smoldering Butterflies ignited the ships at once.
Fire and oil mixed together, and scorching heat spread instantly, as if the air itself had been brought to a boil. Even the surface of the lake turned into a roiling sea of flames.
"Ah!"
Piercing screams rang out as the dozen or so soldiers who had just been preparing to land were instantly reduced to fuel.
They wailed and ran in panic, trying to throw themselves into the lake to put out the fire, never realizing that it too had become a hell of flames.
"Where are the sorcerers? Stop using that damn magic shard! It's only making the fire worse. Use crystal sorcery!"
Ingram hauled himself up from the ground, casually splitting a charging burning man in two with a single swing before raising his Scholar's Shield to block at his side.