Cold Sword Swings, Devouring the Charging Cavalry; Crimson Petals Stain the Grass, Reflecting the Vast Sky

The torrent-like collision continued.

The rear cavalry of the Black-Armored Guard could not rein in their speed, crashing wave after wave into that blood-and-flesh mangled killing ground.

Warhorses trampled their fallen comrades beneath them, iron hooves crushing chests, crushing skulls, crushing limbs that still twitched.

The screams were drowned out by pounding hooves. Dull cracks of shattering bones burst through the crowd as severed limbs were ground into the mud, churned together with grass roots and blood.

A Black-Armored Guard cavalryman had just fallen from his horse, his knees striking the ground. Before he could rise, the warhorse behind him trampled across his back.

The sound of his spine breaking was like a dry stick snapping.

His mouth hung open, his eyes bulging wide. Blood streamed from the corners of his lips, yet he could not make a sound.

Another cavalryman who had been knocked from his horse had lost his mount, but his legs were still running across the grass, his body carried forward by momentum.

An out-of-control warhorse slammed into him sideways, its shoulder striking his ribs. The sound of ribs breaking came in an unbroken string.

His body flew away like a kite with its string cut, hit the ground and rolled five or six times before landing face-down. His back arched at an unnatural angle, as though someone had snapped him in half at the waist.

At the point where the battle lines met, a brutal mutual assault raged.

In the most direct, head-on fashion possible.

Now it came down to who was tougher.

The Black-Armored Guard's front ranks were being consumed at a terrifying rate, like a slab of meat fed again and again through a grinder.

But those Blood-Clad Army soldiers—

After being knocked from their horses, they rolled across the ground to bleed