Melee Combat

Ryman charged at the very front of the group, a double-headed axe in hand. Even his usually honest-looking face had turned somewhat savage from the exertion of running.

Once he came within ten paces of the enemy, Ryman suddenly planted his left foot and leaned back. His waist muscles surged, driving his right arm in a swing from back to front. The axe traced a half-circle through the air, and when it reached the front of his body, he released the handle. The axe flew forward with terrifying force.

Like a bolt of black lightning, it flashed before everyone's eyes and struck the Wooden Shield held by a cavalryman beside Bill. The shield instantly shattered into pieces. The axe did not lose momentum and hacked into the cavalryman's chest. Its blade smashed through his breastbone, caving in his entire chest. Splintered bone pierced his organs, and purplish-black froth spilled from his mouth as his body crumpled to the ground. He was clearly beyond saving.

Ryman's brutal axe throw stunned Commander Bill and the remaining three cavalrymen. Their charging steps halted involuntarily, their eyes filled with horror. They could not believe what had just happened. One of them had died before they had even exchanged blows. Was that man even human? The miserable death of their comrade filled the remaining cavalrymen with fear.

Commander Bill felt lingering dread as well. He tightened his grip on his iron round shield, secretly grateful that he had questioned the grain store guards earlier and learned that these men carried bows. That was why he had ordered his subordinates to prepare shields, and his own shield had even been forged from pig iron. Otherwise, he would likely have been the one lying dead on the ground. His years of battle experience had saved his life once again.

Seeing the fear in his men's hearts, Bill knew he had to make a decision. Their horses were already dead, and it was too late to flee. Besides, turning their backs on a group of hunters armed with bows would be no different from seeking death.

Nor could they return and explain themselves to Lord Ollie. Their only way out was to defeat the hunters before them. Once the bandits from the other side broke in, victory might still be possible.

Bill let out a loud roar. The authority he had built over the years temporarily suppressed the fear in the remaining cavalrymen, and they followed behind him as they slowly pressed toward the enemy.

Facing such a ferocious hunter, Bill was not certain of victory either. But when he looked at the Chainmail on his body, knowing his equipment far surpassed theirs, his confidence returned. He raised his iron shield to cover his upper body, leaving only his eyes exposed as he cautiously advanced.

Ryman had not expected this outcome either. The throw had been so powerful that it had directly taken out an enemy. Yet because of the throwing motion, his charge had been forced to stop. Fortunately, the enemy seemed intimidated as well and made no move for the moment, giving Ryman time to catch his breath.

He took a deep breath, loosened up his body slightly, transferred the axe in his left hand to his right, and fixed his gaze on Bill as he slowly approached.

Including Nord and the others who had rushed over to support them, they had seven men in total, while the enemy had only four left. They now held an absolute advantage. Though hunters were at a disadvantage against cavalrymen skilled in close combat, with nearly twice their numbers, two hunters against one cavalryman were still more than capable of fighting.

Ryman took the initiative to face Bill, while Bill stared intently at Ryman. Both men understood that only by defeating the other could they win the battle.

At the edge of the battlefield, Nord and Reed attacked one cavalryman together. The cavalryman held a shield in his left hand and a sword in his right. Seeing that his opponents were two green youths, one of whom even looked like a nobleman, a cruel grin appeared on his face. He did not dare fight a monster like Ryman, but bullying two inexperienced boys would be easy enough. He could not help but feel contemptuous.

Nord and Reed exchanged a glance, then moved apart in perfect understanding, flanking the enemy from left and right. Nord took the left, Reed the right, and both assumed defensive stances.

Whenever the cavalryman prepared to attack, the target of his attack focused on defending while the other fiercely struck at the openings he exposed. After several exchanges, Nord and Reed's coordination grew increasingly seamless. They were close in age. Reed was lively and quick-witted, while Nord, though not particularly experienced in fighting, still possessed the muscle memory left behind by his former self. Combined with a soul from the modern era, he was no worse than Reed. Under their combined assault, the cavalryman began to panic.

Cold sweat covered the cavalryman's forehead. He had thought dealing with two green boys would be effortless, but they were far more agile than expected. Neither was his match alone, yet under their coordination, he found himself increasingly overwhelmed. Could he really lose to these boys today? Panic flickered through his heart, and his steps immediately became unsteady.

Nord saw that the opportunity was coming. Sure enough, not long after, distracted by Reed, the cavalryman exposed his back. Nord did not hesitate. He slashed at the cavalryman's neck from behind. The Longsword bit deep into flesh, nearly severing half his head. Blood burst forth, and Nord's vision turned crimson.

The cavalryman's body slowly fell, his head hanging crookedly to one side. Nord was not strong enough, and his technique was not skilled enough, to produce the sight of a completely severed head and a fountain of blood shooting into the sky.

Blood splattered across Nord's face. He stared blankly at the falling body, at the mangled mess of flesh and blood beneath his feet. A powerful sense of discomfort rose within him, though not yet enough to make him vomit or suffer any other physical reaction.

He looked away. Reed ran excitedly to Nord's side, seemingly oblivious to the brutal scene at their feet.

"Lord Nord, are you all right? You're incredible. I was worried you might get hurt, but I never expected you to kill him with a single strike."

After speaking, Reed pointed at the corpse beneath their feet, his expression containing only the thrill and excitement of defeating an enemy.

Nord wiped the blood from his face. Looking at the excitement shining in Reed's eyes, he said to himself, This is how this era is supposed to be.

Turning to look at the others, Nord saw that Marco and his companion had already dealt with their enemy and had gone to support the others. The last cavalryman was surrounded by three people, and his defeat was near. Marco had intended to assist Ryman, but their fierce battle gave him no chance to intervene, so he could only stand there and watch.

Ryman and Bill's battle had been intense from the very beginning. Relying on his superior equipment, Bill had kept Ryman on the defensive. Though Ryman possessed extraordinary strength, Bill was also highly experienced, and neither could overcome the other for the time being.

But after Marco and Nord had each dealt with their opponents, especially when Marco came near them and assumed a stance as if he were about to join the fight, Bill had no choice but to stay alert and guard against him.

Ryman decisively seized the moment of Bill's distraction and kicked Bill's round shield. The tremendous force sent the shield crashing to the ground, and Bill staggered back several steps before regaining his footing.

Ryman gripped his axe with both hands, crossed three steps in two, and chopped down at Bill with all his strength. Bill understood the danger he was in, but he could only fight desperately. He clenched the Longsword in both hands and swung it at Ryman.

Both men put their full strength into the strike. Sword and axe collided with a deafening crash, and both weapons were knocked flying to either side. Enduring the searing pain in the web of his hand, Ryman drew the One-Handed Sword from his waist. A flash of steel passed, and a bloody line appeared across Bill's throat.

Bill raised his hands to block the sword, but he was a step too late. In terror, he clutched his neck. A rasping sound came from his throat, but he could not speak, nor could he stop the blood from pouring out. At last, Bill sank to his knees, his eyes filled with reluctance to leave this world.