Ahead lay a silver-white torrent of steel, sweeping in like an avalanche.
Harald's last White Wolf Guard cavalry—elite knights clad in silver-white armor, bearing Sauron's final glory—erupted with astonishing power in the face of desperation.
Like a gale, like raging surf, they crashed savagely into Carnford's pursuing skirmish line with the resolve to die!
The ground shuddered dully and violently beneath iron hooves. The rolling thunder of hoofbeats swept across the earth, making hearts tremble in their chests.
The howling cavalry mass cut ruthlessly into the chaotic battlefield like steel ploughshares, smashing through, engulfing, and trampling the scattered Carnford Flintlock Riflemen pursuing them, along with the fleeing Sauron soldiers those men had been chasing! Screams, whinnies, and clashing metal erupted at once along the cavalry's path!
Peter, drenched in blood and nearly maddened by slaughter, saw the cavalry charging in, saw them knocking down and cutting apart his comrades, and felt an uncontrollable fury surge into his heart.
He howled like a beast robbed of reason, raising the Flintlock Rifle he had just loaded and preparing to charge headlong into that surging torrent of cavalry in a fight to the death!
"Get the fuck back here!"
A powerful arm shot out from the side and seized Peter's arm in an iron grip, forcibly yanking him to a halt in the middle of his reckless charge!
It was Webber! Company Commander Webber's face was smeared with blood, yet his eyes remained sharp and clear. He dragged Peter back with all his strength, pulling him toward a relatively safe spot nearby.
"What use is it if you charge up there alone? You want to become fertilizer under their horses' hooves?!" Webber roared at Peter, his voice hoarse. "If you want to die, that's not how you do it!"
In those few brief