章節 161: Siege of the Fortress 3
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
More and more rebel soldiers leaped onto the fortress walls, and the defenders desperately tried to prevent them from widening the breach.
All six ladders of the rebels successfully reached the walls. The battles at the two attack points on the left and the two on the right were at a stalemate, but the situation in the middle two was less optimistic.
The rebel soldiers charging up there seemed to be pumped with adrenaline. They shouted loudly with red eyes, fiercely attacking the defenders. It seemed they didn't care about the swords coming at them; their every move was aggressive.
However, the defenders struggled to inflict any damage. Despite wearing leather armor, these soldiers seemed as if they were clad in full steel plate armor from head to toe. Even blows to their arms or legs easily deflected the defenders' swords.
Knight's squire Bowman found himself in a tough battle, tightly engaged by one rebel soldier.
After several rounds, he could tell the enemy's combat skills were not advanced—just basic military maneuvers. Still, they were far inferior to his training in knightly combat techniques guided by his father from childhood.
Under normal circumstances, he felt he could swiftly defeat such opponents.
But these soldiers before him possessed near-unnatural defense and strength far exceeding his own. These advantages compensated for their lack of refined technique.
Each time Bowman struck their bodies, it felt like hitting a steel plate—something he'd only experienced when striking enemies in heavy armor.
Yet these soldiers wore seemingly agile leather armor. If they truly wore heavy armor, no matter their strength, they couldn't move so agilely.
Bowman couldn't help but recall the scout's report from a few days ago about encountering foes with inexplicable defensive capabilities.
As a knight's squire, he could hold his ground against the rebel soldier entangling him. But for the other ordinary soldiers, things looked grim. Close combat had been ongoing for over ten minutes, and several of Bowman's comrades had already fallen around him, while the enemy seemed unscathed.
At that moment, he heard the Duke commanding the battle from the tower shout to everyone, "Blunt weapons! Use blunt weapons against those swords can't deal with!"
That reminder sparked an idea in Bowman's mind. Although the nobles were unclear about the scout's report, if the enemy indeed possessed armor-like defenses where swords were ineffective, blunt weapons might prove effective.
The fortress hastily prepared a batch of blunt weapons like warhammers, though their numbers were limited. Bowman was assigned one, currently hanging at his waist.
True blunt weapons weren't as massive and cumbersome as commonly imagined. For example, Bowman's warhammer had a hammerhead only the size of an adult fist, not the exaggerated sizes bards sang about, weighing hundreds of pounds.
Bowman swiftly dodged the enemy's attack, deftly sheathing his knightly sword. He immediately unhooked the warhammer from his waist.
After exchanging a few more moves with the rebel soldier, he spotted an opening. Putting all his strength into it, he viciously swung the warhammer, striking the enemy's right arm.
The tremendous recoil nearly numbed and pained his right hand gripping the handle, nearly causing the weapon to slip.
But in that split second of impact, the rebel soldier let out a pained cry. His right arm, struck by the hammer, immediately went limp, and the sword in his hand fell to the ground.
Bowman felt a surge of satisfaction. As a meticulously trained knight's squire, he wouldn't miss such a golden opportunity of dealing a heavy blow to a weakened opponent.
Thus, he swiftly continued wielding the warhammer with lightning speed, relentlessly hammering the enemy.
After taking several consecutive hits to the chest, the rebel soldier seemed dazed, unable even to dodge instinctively, just continually stepping backward.
The knight's squire closed in, aiming a harsh blow at the enemy's head.
With a resounding "clang," the rebel soldier's brain burst from the impact, and he toppled backwards onto the fortress wall.
Bowman took deep breaths, panting heavily. Excitedly surveying his surroundings, he began searching for his next target.
However, a quick glance dashed his hopes.
Despite many switching to blunt weapons, and despite several red-eyed rebel soldiers having fallen, the defenders were still under pressure, with new enemies constantly surging up the siege ladders.
On one hand, the defenders had few blunt weapons, totaling only a few dozen. On the other hand, not all soldiers possessed combat skills akin to knight's squires.
No time to dwell on that, Bowman immediately swung his warhammer and joined the fray once more.
As he charged towards the enemy, he glanced towards Sir Klein in the distance. This skilled nobleman had already laid several enemy bodies around him. Currently, he was surrounded by numerous foes, yet the valiant knight showed no signs of fear, vigorously wielding a chain mace to both defend and attack, occasionally creating new casualties among the rebels.
Seeing the courage of the nobleman he served, Bowman's earlier concerns about their faltering situation dissipated. His heart rekindled with the passion of battle, roaring as he charged towards his newly chosen target.
...
Watching their soldiers continuously climb the fortress walls, Scott couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Beside him, a mage companion remarked, "Looks like the attack is going smoothly."
"Of course!" Scott smirked, "With our magic boosting them, even mere mortals can become this powerful."
"I want that nobleman to see how crucial enchanters are, capable of turning decay into miracles."
Scott recalled a senior in the organization, highly esteemed for his physical prowess alone. Rumor had it that armed with just his fists, he could single-handedly sweep through an army.
Yet this senior had always scorned enchanters like them, stubbornly believing that enhancing combat prowess through external means was merely a side road.
"True strength lies in the strength of one's own body. Even when you have nothing, you can still crush enemies with absolute superiority."
Recalling the contemptuous words said to his face, Scott felt a thousand grievances.
Hmph! No matter how strong your body is, there are limits. Can you ascend to godhood?
Of course, Scott acknowledged the brilliance of enhancement magic. However, for the organization to expand its influence in this world and achieve its ultimate goal, it would inevitably need to arm vast armies of mortals. These individuals had limited potential and could never learn sophisticated magic.
Though the organization was researching enhancements that could be applied to mortal bodies, such magic often couldn't last long. Our mages were both precious and few in number. Would we have to send them into perilous battlefields every time to enchant ordinary soldiers? The risk of loss would be immense if anything went wrong.
This was where enchanters came in. Not only could they temporarily enchant ordinary equipment before battle, but they could also add semi-permanent enhancements during weapon manufacturing.
By cultivating large numbers of enchanters, we could mass-produce enchanted weapons and thereby arm vast armies of mortals, using equipment advantages to level this world.
Unfortunately, that nobleman seemed to have gone off to the Northwest Bay for some important business, unable to witness our magnificent performance here.
Scott thought regretfully, Otherwise, I could certainly change his stubborn and rigid impression of us.
What a pity!
(End of the Chapter)
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票