When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#373 - Battle of Montenegro (End)

What was that?

This wasn't just Nidsar's question, but the question of all the Negusaks.

But soon, their doubts vanished along with their lives.

"Praise the Holy Wind!"

The command that had been shouted countless times now came from Horn's mouth. His face pale, he pulled the winding key from the leather gear cannon.

The gears spun rapidly on the gear shaft, metal and air vibrating simultaneously, emitting a low hum.

But the next second, everyone's ears were silent, the immense sound seeming to drown out all other noises.

The 80mm caliber leather gear cannon roared deafeningly, two bursts of iron sand and lead pellets scattering first, followed by the iron sand spewed by twenty hand cannon monks.

The two formed a black mist rushing forward. The Negusaks charging forward hadn't even reacted when they felt the clear sky suddenly darken for a moment.

Then, a warm sensation came from their chests, and their entire bodies flew up uncontrollably until they crashed to the ground, rolling several times before the excruciating pain transmitted to their brains through their nerves.

The dense ranks of dozens of knights in the front row fell simultaneously, their bodies riddled with dense holes.

Severed limbs and fingers, flying blood, shoulder blades wrapped in flesh, and even half of a face scattered in the air.

In the storm of lead pellets and iron sand, the Negusaks who had been yelling and shouting stopped all action.

Blood splattered on their faces, and a dripping sound came from their helmets—the blood rain of their companions falling.

Even the Negusaks, known for their bravery, couldn't hold on. This wave killed forty or fifty of them, and they even had hand cannon monks. What were they even fighting for?

Groups of Negusaks began to turn and flee without Nidsar's orders.

Some ran to the left, some ran to the right, and Nidsar's entire large formation bubbled like a boiling kettle.

Amidst the noisy shouts, Mengse's "Second Guard Army, advance at quick march!" was so clear.

In the rear of the formation, ten large blunderbusses slowly emerged. Whenever a Negusak tried to rally other Negusak knights, they would immediately be targeted by the blunderbusses.

Within a hundred meters, the power and accuracy of the blunderbusses were terrifyingly high. Every now and then, a Negusak who stood out too much would be shot through the chest.

Amidst the chaotic army, although Nidsar tried desperately to reorganize the troops, he couldn't stop the chaos. Only a small group of twenty or thirty people still gathered around him.

Looking at the panicked black-skinned knights, Nidsar even wondered if he was dreaming. He had never imagined that these elite knights would mutiny.

"Gather, gather together." No matter how loudly he shouted or what conditions he offered, he couldn't stop the chaos.

Misfortune never comes singly. Just as they were in chaos, Janna's Holy Rifle Cavalry arrived at the perfect time, adding a load-bearing beam to the camel about to be crushed.

Could it be that he was really going to end up here? An unprecedented despair appeared in Nidsar's eyes.

He took out a bottle of potion from his pocket, the purplish-black viscous liquid making his face change slightly.

Unlike most knights, Nidsar rarely used potions on the battlefield.

He only carried two bottles of potions with him. One was the spider potion to enhance reaction speed, which he had already drunk.

But this second bottle, the most crucial potion for saving his life, he had never thought he would use it here.

But if he used it, he would probably have no place to settle in the empire afterwards, and he would have to return to his former home.

As Nidsar hesitated, an increasingly clear cry of killing rang in his ears.

In the distance, on the flank of the Guard, Zeraken, leading the last thousand guards, rushed over from the original center army.

Great! Nidsar couldn't wait to kiss Zeraken's cheeks madly right now.

"Go, let's go and join Zeraken!"

Nidsar's actions quickly caught Janna's attention. Ordering Kolebo to command the overall situation, Janna led dozens of Holy Rifle Cavalry towards Nidsar and the others.

"Damn it, damn it, hurry, hurry!" Nidsar didn't care about conserving his horse's strength, frantically urging his warhorse forward.

Lead pellets shot from the blunderbuss flew past him. Nidsar felt a warm pain in his ribs and shoulders.

He wasn't sure if they had pierced through or were just minor injuries. He couldn't tell anymore.

Blood flowed from his gums, and the most loyal Negusak tribal warriors beside him fell one after another, while the approaching central army infantry in the distance became clearer and clearer.

The last chance!

The fierce wind passed through his collar and sleeves. Nidsar raised his head and advanced at full speed, as long as he could reach, as long as he could reach that place…

"Boom—"

The sky was lit up by flames, and four fiery fireballs exploded in the infantry formation.

The raging flames engulfed the infantry, and arrows fell from their flanks as if they were free.

Amidst the crackling of the burning flames, Hakuto, leading the left-wing army, appeared on the flank of Zeraken's army with orderly steps.

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Nidsar's galloping speed slowly slowed down. He straightened up from his crouching posture, no longer caring about the possible stray bullets and the terrifying blunderbuss.

Looking to the left at the advancing Salvation Army, looking to the right at the collapsing infantry formation, and in the distance, Domenico was desperately running through the wheat fields with the Kush knights and other knights.

Nidsar's soul seemed to be drawn out of his body. He himself didn't know how to win anymore.

He was leading an army of tens of thousands, but he actually lost.

He shouldn't have risked attacking from the puddle, he shouldn't have promised to take the nobles north, he shouldn't have gotten involved in this damn war…

But no matter how much Nidsar regretted it, time could not be turned back.

Visibly, within a few seconds, Nidsar seemed to have aged several years. He sat blankly on his horse, like an old man on the verge of death.

But perhaps he remembered something, he suddenly lowered his head and took out a bottle of potion from his bosom.

The potion in a sturdy crystal vial had been in his bosom for who knows how many years, and even the cork was old and moldy.

It was time. Nidsar seemed to have made up his mind, gritted his teeth, and drank the viscous blood in one gulp.

The other Negusaks around him watched him nervously. This bottle of potion was this terrifying knight's trump card.

According to Nidsar's habit of always leaving himself a way out, perhaps, perhaps he could still break out a bloody path with them as before.

After drinking the potion, Nidsar's eyes quickly filled with bloodshot, and his entire body's muscles swelled up like a balloon.

Blue veins emerged from his arms and cheeks, and the terrifying aura made the Holy Rifle Cavalry who were chasing after him subconsciously slow down their pace.

"Ah—"

But to everyone's surprise, after Nidsar's body swelled up, it suddenly shrank down at an even faster rate, like a punctured ball.

In the dazed eyes of the other Negusaks, black blood flowed from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.

"Ah—"

Screaming miserably, Nidsar slid off his horse and fell heavily to the ground.

In everyone's silent and confused gaze, his calf muscle twitched, and then his entire person completely lost his voice.