Slaying the Enemy General Amidst Ten Thousand Troops! Seeking First Subscription

On a small hill overlooking one section of the battlefield.

Horsa remained wary and did not approach the city walls too closely, mainly because Duncan's ballista shot last time had left a deep psychological scar on him. In terms of individual combat strength, his elder brother Hengist had been considerably stronger than him, yet such a powerful Barbarian Fighter had vanished the moment he was struck by a ballista.

"The enemy is almost unable to hold on."

A Saxon chieftain's bodyguard rushed over, his expression brimming with excitement. "Chieftain, let me lead a squad of Hearth Guards in a charge!"

"We can definitely crush them in one push."

The Saxon Chieftain Warband was also known as the Hearth Guards, meaning elite warriors who sat around the hearth with their leader, sharing food, power, and status.

Horsa was clearly tempted.

He could also see that the enemy was at the end of their rope. Enfes's Saxon pirate band had launched several fierce assaults, leaving the town's defenders thoroughly exhausted. These British Militia lacked both stamina and combat experience. They could not relax on the battlefield, and even with others taking turns defending, they remained utterly fatigued.

If he deployed the Saxon Chieftain Warband now, they might indeed gain an overwhelming advantage.

"It would be nice if we had Catapults." Horsa looked regretful.

There were no proper large cities on Britain Island. A few barrages from Catapults would have easily shattered their defenses.

Among the barbarians of this era, only the Franks had mastered relatively advanced siegecraft. The Huns were likewise poor at sieges. Nomadic peoples truly rose to prominence only with the Mongol Army; the siegecraft they acquired from the Central Plains proved unstoppable as they swept across Europe and Asia.

Commit them!

Horsa surveyed the battlefield and decisively ordered the Saxon Chieftain Warband forward. They were elite frontline sword-and-shield troops and were not particularly afraid of archers.

"Kirkman, lead the warband in a frontal assault on the east gate!"

After speaking, Horsa turned to another man and said in a low voice, "Decapitator—Isolde."

The crowd parted.

A burly giant of a man, nearly two meters tall, stepped forward. He stood out conspicuously in this era, making one wonder whether he possessed Giant blood. The massive man wielded a heavy executioner's axe and carried no shield. He wore a half-suit of armor somewhat like that of a Nord Warrior, mainly to facilitate charging; armor that was too heavy would hinder their movement.

Decapitator Isolde dropped to one knee. "At your command, Chieftain!"

Horsa looked at the burly man and said gravely, "Lead the Elite Axemen and wait on the right flank. The moment the enemy reveals an opening, lead your troops and crush them immediately."

—Saxon Elite Axeman (One-Star).

This was another trump card in Horsa's hand. They carried no shields and wore only half-suits of armor, wielding two-handed battle axes capable of easily breaking through armor. Their frontal charges were incredibly fierce, able to tear through enemy lines like rotten wood. Even the Empire's Field Army could not withstand them; only Eagle Banner troops could stop them.

However, they also had obvious weaknesses: they feared archers and were prone to charging forward on their own.

The two brothers rarely deployed this unit, because using them also resulted in heavy casualties on their own side. They were the main elite force for storming fortified positions, trading lives for lives.

Before charging, they would unleash terrifying battle cries. Once the shouting ended, they would charge mindlessly forward, and unless nearly half of them were killed or wounded, they would almost never rout.

Under God's Eye View.

Duncan's expression was incomparably grim as he said in a deep voice, "The enemy's elite troops are moving in!"

"Have Cú Chulainn prepare to meet them."

In the projected image.

Two elite units marked as One-Star were on the move: one was the Saxon Chieftain Warband, and the other was the Saxon Elite Axemen. Though neither unit was particularly numerous, they exerted immense pressure. Even from afar, one could sense the aura of battle-hardened veterans.

"Follow me!"

Duncan took the lead, charging straight out through the south gate, with over thirty riders following close behind. They too looked utterly formidable.

—British General's Guard (High Morale) (Decisive Moment) (General's Inspiration) (One-Star)!

These elite riders were all superbly equipped and highly skilled.

They were formed from the combined personal guard knights of Duncan and Duke of Tintagel. Unlike Duke of Tintagel, who led cavalry charges himself, under Duncan's Inspiration, their morale had soared to the point of nearly exploding.

On a nearby hill, Horsa's expression changed instantly.

"What are they doing?"

They were clearly the attackers and held the advantage in numbers, so why had the enemy's General's Guard suddenly charged out?

Not good!

Horsa seemed to realize something. Furious, he laughed instead. "Madmen! Arrogant fools!"

"You actually want to behead me?!"

Taking the enemy general's head amid ten thousand troops!

Duncan's actions were far too unusual. A squad of elite cavalry had charged out, heading straight for the enemy banner. It was obvious that they intended to kill the general and seize the flag.

Historically, almost no one would dare attempt such a thing unless they had absolute confidence in their own martial prowess!

"Protect the Chieftain!"

The chieftain's guards at his side shouted, gathering dozens of Saxon Pirate Riders.

Infantry simply could not catch up.

At this moment, unless Horsa chose to retreat and hide beneath the protection of his army, only cavalry could intercept this General's Guard charging with such dragon-like momentum.

Horsa did not want to retreat. His withdrawal would deal an enormous blow to morale.

"Bring over the guard riders and auxiliary cavalry! There are only thirty-some of them!"

"Cut them off."

Just as Horsa redeployed his cavalry, squad after squad of soldiers suddenly burst from the woods at the edge of the battlefield. The British Legion at the front held large shields, javelins already in hand.

Reinforcements?!

A cheer erupted from the direction of the city gate. The fresh troops joining the battlefield greatly boosted the defenders' morale.

"Cover the right flank!"

"Spear and Shield Infantry, form ranks! Archers, prepare."

Horsa was battle-hardened as well, and he decisively shifted formation to meet them. He pushed the Saxon Elite Axemen forward, intending to use them to crush the reinforcements immediately after the first exchange. The British Legion's first volley of javelins was immensely damaging; without shields, the elite axemen could not block it at all and could only force their way in for close combat.

But just then—

Duncan's General's Guard had already collided with the Saxon Pirate Riders who had rushed over to intercept them!

Kill!

Duncan led the charge with lance in hand, throwing back his head and roaring, "Form up! Wedge Formation!"

—Lance Charge.

Blood sprayed wildly!

Warhorses shrieked in agony!

Holding his lance level, Duncan killed the commander of the Saxon Pirate Riders outright the instant he collided with the enemy. Then he swung his spear in a heavy sweep, his astonishing brute strength knocking another pirate rider from his horse. In the blink of an eye, the enemy was trampled to death beneath the hooves of the General's Guard following close behind.

The Wedge Formation was an extremely aggressive formation. Usually led by the most elite cavalry, each successive rank increased in number, creating a triangular assault formation.

This formation possessed tremendous frontal impact and could swiftly punch through enemy lines, disrupting the opponent's formations and command. However, while the Wedge Formation was highly mobile, its defensive capability was weak. If the first charge failed to open a gap, its flanks could be encircled and suffer devastating losses.

In this battle!

Duncan personally led the charge!

He was like a sharp blade, carving a bloody path the instant the two armies collided. With every casual thrust, a Saxon Pirate Rider fell dead from his horse. Everywhere he passed, warhorses neighed, enemy cavalry scattered, and no one could stop him!

The General's Guard behind him swiftly expanded their gains. The enemy formation had fallen into complete chaos. After Duncan personally punched through them, nearly a hundred pirate riders were torn apart down the middle, utterly unable to organize any meaningful resistance.

The warhorses thundered forward.

Duncan used his spear to lift a Saxon Pirate Rider straight into the air. The spearhead pierced through the man's chest, blood gushing from his mouth. Duncan raised the corpse high above his horse's head, then casually flung it away several meters.

On the distant hillside, Horsa's expression was filled with Terror.

Was that even human?

It was not as though he had never seen Germanic Berserkers born with immense strength, but this was the first time he had encountered a monster like Duncan.

He was now caught in a dilemma—retreating was not an option, but charging was not one either.

"Regroup!"

Duncan stopped several hundred meters from the enemy commander. After that direct slaughter, the nearly hundred Saxon Pirate Riders had been routed. Duncan alone had slain more than ten men. He had not even taken down Noden's Bow, relying entirely on his incredible personal strength and the Lord's Armor stripped from Duke of Tintagel to effortlessly crush these enemies.

His combat strength after donning armor was simply terrifying!

Duncan barely needed to defend at all. One thrust, one kill—he had stabbed more than ten men to death in succession.

The setting sun was red as blood.

On the hillside opposite, the General's Guard behind Duncan regrouped. Of the original thirty-odd riders, only twenty-eight remained. Several were wounded, yet they still looked utterly ferocious as they followed close behind.

The sight even made Horsa feel a trace of fear.

He urgently moved troops to guard his sides while gathering the Chieftain Guard and arranging a defensive formation before him.

"Follow me!"

Duncan raised his spear high and let out a thunderous roar, circling toward the enemy from the right. God's Eye View allowed him to spot every flaw in the enemy's formations. Their frontal defensive formation could not stop him at all; his cavalry merely had to detour a few hundred meters.

"Chieftain, retreat to the central army," a guard rider beside him said in a low voice.

The pressure Duncan brought them was simply too immense!

With a single charge, he had routed pirate riders three times his own number. They had never seen such a valiant knight.

The gale howled, and warhorses thundered.

Duncan led his twenty-eight riders into formation once more, their target pointed directly at Horsa's Chieftain Guard.

"Go!"

Horsa finally lost his nerve. He held the advantage in troop numbers; as long as he dragged things out against the enemy, victory would ultimately be his.

His army of five thousand might have seemed large, but packed tightly together, they could fit onto a single sports field. The battlefield outside Exeter was spread out in groups ranging from dozens to hundreds. As soon as his Chieftain Guard moved, the surrounding central army units began to converge, intending to use sheer numbers to intercept the enemy's charge.

Among the crowd, enemy units clad in cloth and covered in tattoos began to approach.

—Germanic Priests.

Duncan instantly noticed the suspicious targets. Priests were moving toward them through the crowd. He immediately drew Noden's Bow and shot one of the priests dead with a single arrow.

Though spellcasting was weak in the Medieval Era, Duncan still had to stay on guard.

The enemies in the distance were struck with terror!

Horsa seemed to remember something as well. Duncan had charged so fiercely just now that he had thought the man intended to force his way through the formation and kill him. But the moment he saw Duncan raise his bow, he immediately realized that killing him did not need to be so troublesome.

Piercing the Willow from a Hundred Paces!

Duncan charged forward alone on horseback. God's Eye View locked directly onto his target, while twenty-eight riders followed close behind, protecting his flanks and covering his gradual approach toward the enemy.

Two hundred meters away.

Duncan nocked an arrow and drew his bow. The arrow whistled through the air, shooting an elite chieftain guard from his horse.

Rapid fire.

He did not even need to hold the reins. Without flushing or losing his breath, he swiftly drew another arrow and fired again. Amid a warhorse's agonized cry, Horsa's mount was grievously wounded. The Armor-Piercing Arrowhead pierced through its belly, instantly throwing the ferocious barbarian chieftain from the saddle. He let out a muffled grunt, rolled to his feet, yanked a Chieftain's Personal Guard off a nearby horse, and tried to climb back into the saddle.

At that moment, Horsa truly felt fear!

The enemy held a powerful bow and possessed godlike archery, as though eagle eyes overlooked the entire battlefield. Even surrounded by so many chieftain guards, he had still been hit. This had already surpassed everything he knew about warfare!

War could be fought like this?

That delay allowed the General's Guard led by Duncan to immediately catch up to the enemy. More than ten chieftain guards turned their horses around and fought desperately to cover the retreat, while the others formed a wall of bodies around Horsa. The General's Guard charged head-on as well, carving a bloody path for Duncan with their flesh and blood.

They were the Elite Guard of this era. On the battlefield, they could even give their lives for their general.

"He's out of arrows?"

Hooves thundered.

As Horsa fled for his life, he suddenly noticed that Duncan had raised his bow but had no arrow. He immediately realized this was an opportunity and directly ordered those around him to countercharge, intending to surround and kill the deeply isolated Duncan.

By then, Duncan had already charged into the enemy formation with his superb horsemanship. Even the nearest General's Guard was dozens of meters away from him.

Horsa turned his horse around, and more than ten elite Chieftain Guards swarmed forward.

With so many men—

Even if Duncan were a god descended to earth, they would still stab him to death with a chaotic flurry of spears!

Wind Arrow!

The invisible wind roared as Duncan's Mana Bar was instantly drained dry.

Before Horsa's disbelieving eyes, Duncan drew his war bow into a full moon. On the utterly empty bowstring, something seemed to be gathering.

"Not good! We've fallen for it!"

The gale howled.

Surrounded by the Chieftain Guards, Horsa's body stiffened. A bloody hole had appeared out of nowhere in his forehead. The Wind Arrow had pierced straight through his skull.

The chieftain guards around him fell into turmoil.

Duncan drew the Oathkeeper Sword and slashed apart the spear thrust at him by an enemy. Then, with an angry roar, he chopped off a head twisted in terror.

"Protect the general!"

Twenty-one riders of the General's Guard charged and fought desperately. Several were thrown from their horses in succession, but they ultimately reached Duncan's side and guarded him on both flanks.

The blood-red setting sun seemed to weep, and the wind cut like blades.

Duncan lifted Horsa's severed head on his spear. Looking toward the distant battlefield, where the fighting still raged desperately, he threw back his head and let out a terrifying roar!

"The enemy commander is dead! Surrender at once!"

Behind Duncan, the gale blew fiercely. The remaining sixteen riders stood bathed in blood. Their warhorses neighed, every one of them wounded, yet their bearing was as fierce as tigers, like slaughter gods from hell.

The entire battlefield fell deathly silent.

Then came earth-shaking cheers and sounds of chaos. Countless Saxon soldiers looked at Horsa's head raised upon the spear and quickly lost their will to fight.

This scene was destined to be passed down across Britain Island as myth and legend!