When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#366 - Battle of Black Mountain (IX)

Amidst the piercing shriek of air rushing through the equalization vents, lead shot flew like locusts, whizzing past them.

Blazing holy winds descended densely upon the chests and abdomens of these soldiers.

Bright red sprays of blood mist erupted from the front ranks of the military formation, accompanied by even more heart-wrenching cries than before.

"Mommy, I'm dying!"

"Don't block me, don't block..."

"It's the devil's wind! Priests, quickly chant scriptures!"

Lead shot whizzed past Zeraken's side, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat. His voice, amidst the gunfire, was as shrill as a castrato's: "Eek! Priests, quickly use your invincible divine arts to think of a solution!"

The leader of the priestly order did not respond to him. Zeraken turned his head to look.

He saw the leading priest of the order lying peacefully on the ground with a smile, a bloody hole in the center of his forehead, not saying a word. It was clear at a glance that he had died a sweet death.

The remaining priests were frantically searching through the Book of Gospels, sweating profusely: "It shouldn't be! Everything is correct! The time and place are correct! Why isn't it working?"

"Are you asking me?" Seeing the soldiers in the front ranks fall, Zeraken grabbed the priest by the collar, disregarding everything else. "Quickly, suppress their magic!"

"But it's just not working! We've tried everything!" The priest was so anxious he was about to cry. "It's not working!"

"Why isn't it working?"

"Either the Holy Father is showing a miracle, or that's not magic at all."

"Not magic? How is that possible?" Zeraken released his grip, and the priest plopped down on the ground. "It's clearly crafted from alchemical materials!"

An absurd idea appeared in Zeraken's mind. If it wasn't magic, could the holy wind really be a divine art?

A divine art independent of the church's system? No, no, impossible, absolutely impossible.

Zeraken banished the unrealistic thought from his mind: "Quickly, use divine arts! Don't let the guards retreat!"

"But their hearts can't withstand a second divine art with such a short interval. It will cause mass sudden death."

"Sudden death is sudden death! It's their glory! Use it!"

............

"First Holy Gun Division, Third Brigade, turn left! Quick march!"

After firing, the first row of soldiers stepped left or right in unison, changing from a line into a column, and walked to the side of the pikemen, transforming back into a line.

Round after round, the soldiers in the front ranks of the large formation fell one after another, blood flowing on the ground.

If it weren't for the blessing, they probably wouldn't have been able to maintain their formation and would have fled long ago.

Until three rounds of firing were completed, the continuous explosions and the sound of lead bullets tearing through the air ceased, and the battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

Those guards who had been hugging their heads on the ground or simply lying down got up, raised their heads, and looked in the direction from which the holy wind had come.

When the three rows of holy gunners retreated from both sides, like reefs after the tide had receded, the pikemen's line was exposed in front of everyone.

The pikes were scorching hot, wrapped in sunlight, and the red pine shafts rested on their elbows, pointing remotely at the infantry square in front of them.

Only 30 meters separated them.

"Doo-doo-doo——"

In the heart-palpitating silence, the sound of the horn representing the charge rang out.

Six hundred pikemen stomped heavily on the ground with their right legs, and the horizontal formation of 50x12 charged towards the large square in front of them at a charging pace.

"One! One! One!"

This was the command for the pikemen to advance. Because the pace was faster, the officers would omit 'two,' only needing to pause slightly after shouting 'one.'

The sound of the marching command mixed with the 'cha-cha' sound of clothing and armor rubbing together, creating a unique rhythm.

The neat and rapid cha-cha sound grew closer and closer. Amidst the blood mist and the fear of fallen comrades, these soldiers were still carefully adjusting their distance from their teammates.

After all, in their subconscious, they felt that there was at least a minute before the two sides would engage.

But when two rows, two layers, a full hundred pikes approached, the armored sergeants who served as squad commanders paled.

This speed was unprecedented. The rebel pikemen were still in the blurry distance a second ago. In the time it took to lower and raise their heads, the bright and shining pikes were about to reach their eyes.

Behind these two rows, two layers of pikes, stood a dense forest of steel.

"What's so fast? Reorganize the formation! Quickly reorganize the formation!" An armored sergeant standing in the front row shouted in a deafening voice.

Many guards even changed their expressions. They desperately tried to block the gaps or escape, pushing and squeezing each other, causing the previously orderly square to sway left and right.

Under the continuous impact, these infantrymen were doing well just to not run away, let alone fill in the missing spaces.

Closer, even closer.

"For victory!" Victor, running at the forefront, gritted his teeth and gave the order, "Charge at a run!"

The pikemen, who had been running at a steady pace, suddenly accelerated again. At this moment, the distance between the two sides was only less than ten meters.

"Farmer!" An armored sergeant issued a loud and ferocious greeting, and as usual, raised the large axe in his hand high.

However, unlike usual, the peasant rebels in front of him were not intimidated by the battle axe.

The spear tips of hundreds of pikes rotated, and 100 pikemen simultaneously landed heavily on their right feet, thrusting their pikes forward violently.

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The sun-baked spearhead broke through the chainmail and pierced into the soft chest. The armored sergeant felt as if a branding iron had pierced through his body.

Then, the second row of pikes protruded like poisonous snakes, plunging fiercely into his throat.

The armored sergeant took two steps back, his eyes bulging out of their sockets in disbelief.

He covered his chest with one hand and his throat with the other, as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't say a word.

The burly body fell heavily, splashing a pool of blood.

The first row of guards had just been hit by the volley fire. Some were still lying on the ground, while others were trying to fill in from behind, unable to make any defensive posture.

"Ah——"

"I surrender, I surrender!"

"Cough cough cough——"

"Kneeling will be spared, kneeling will be spared!"

"Who are you?" War Priest Little Mallock frowned, kicking down the guard who was kneeling on the ground and shouting about kneeling being spared. "Why are you shouting 'kneeling will be spared' yourself?"

The pikes rolled back and forth like waves, stabbing. Like dominoes, the soldiers in the front row fell one after another.

Fresh blood flowed from their mouths, noses, and bloody holes, rolling on the ground with wails.

Light spheres representing blessings flew up continuously in the formation. The priests completely disregarded the guards' heart tolerance and forcibly threw these blessings on them.

Even so, it still couldn't stop the infantry's decline.

"Can you still hold on? I'll call Lord Nidsal over immediately." Zeraken roared at the armored sergeants.

But these armored sergeants were in no mood to pay attention to him. They were doing their best to organize their formation to resist.

"Retreat! Order a retreat! If we don't retreat, we'll all be stuck here."

"Lord Zeraken, let's retreat quickly."

"At least bring three heads! At least bring one head!" Zeraken shouted at the armored sergeants.

"We don't have time to cut off heads! Let's go quickly."

"Why don't you hold on for a while longer? Cut off one head..."

"Cut off my head and take it up... Gack——" The armored sergeant was shot through the body by a rain of arrows before he could finish speaking.

Standing at the rear side of the square, surrounded by a group of guards, watching the two thousand-man square being killed and retreating by six hundred pikemen, Zeraken sighed deeply.

He finally recognized reality and waved his hand listlessly: "Archers, shoot arrows to cover our retreat."