Arrows rained down, but the barricades remained indestructible.

The piled corpses were used by the Crusaders as fortresses, stacked higher and higher, both to shield against arrows and to slow the charge of the enemy’s armored cavalry.

“My lord, we can’t delay any longer.”

Kemel advised, “We’ve lost too many men, and morale is wavering.”

At this moment, even the Mamluk personal guards feeding their mounts and resting couldn’t help but show a hint of fear when they looked at that figure in a fiery red cape, whose weapon could split a person along with their armor from the middle.

This is simply inhuman!

That red figure could even knock away incoming arrows with their weapon while being surrounded by multiple attackers. For Mamluks who had been trained rigorously since childhood, they knew all too well the difficulty of such a feat.

“Among the enemy, those cavalry in red coveralls aren’t many, but they seem utterly tireless. At this rate, our soldiers will suffer heavy casualties before the enemy’s strength is exhausted.”

Although the Saracen infantry are auxiliary troops mostly composed of Coptics, losing too many of them at such a critical moment is a disastrous issue.

Yet, Governor Mahri was unwilling to deploy his precious Imperial Guard just yet.

The enemy had already shown their formidable strength. Even if his Imperial Guard charged in and won, the loss would far exceed his expectations. He was more of a meticulous merchant than a warrior.

Thus, he quickly made a decision: “Send someone to ask Master Alam to intervene.”

Upon hearing the name, fear flashed across Kemel’s face, and he spoke immediately, “Lord Governor, that master’s means…”

Mahri shook his head, his eyes full of determination, “No need to say more, my mind is made.”

The order was relayed through the ranks.

Seated in the carriage, the black-robed caster’s wrinkled old face, resembling a withered tree, showed a meaningful smile, “As you wish, my lord.”

Though he called him “my lord,” this caster had no respect for Governor Mahri in his eyes.

Their union was solely based on interest. In truth, if the target were to confront a Frankish lord who had slain a wizard approaching the legendary and a Karelian Demon Dragon, he would have already turned tail and fled.

This was why he hadn’t sought out King Saladin, who could offer him more benefits and hire his services in Damascus.

However, the current enemy was just a force of over a thousand Crusaders.

They are his favorite target, those elite knights from Europe, with courage, madness, and fearlessness written in their bones, have always been his favored casting materials.

With a bang, he struck the ground with his Human Bone Staff.

Black smoke rapidly expanded outward from him as the center.

The black mist rolled, covering the entire clearing before the battle formation in the blink of an eye.

Amid the astonished and questioning gazes of the people.

Headless cavalry, clad in tattered armor, riding skeletal steeds, with their heads hanging from their saddles, wielding blades of bone, charged out from the black mist.

Silent and still.

Utterly terrifying!

The Mamluk Heavy Cavalry, previously fully armored and extremely hot, suddenly felt the sweat on their bodies freeze, the cold penetrating their armor, reaching their bones: “By the Holy Fire, what kind of monsters are these?”

Kemel’s eyes widened, filled with terror, “My lord, employing a caster who desecrates the dead, are you not afraid of the Holy Fire’s wrath?”

Governor Mahri, of course, wasn’t afraid.

Given the dirty deeds he’d done, if the Holy Fire truly had a spirit, he would have been burned to death a million times already.

Yet his face also showed a hint of seriousness.

While Mahri did not fear punishment from the Holy Fire, he was concerned about offending the priests of the Fire Worship.

Although the Fire Worship was seen as an unforgivable heresy by the Franks, in this era, it was considered a relatively enlightened Orthodox Church, shining with the light of civilization compared to the still widespread barbaric beliefs on the Great Grassland and in Northern Europe.

Not to mention commanding an Army of the Dead, merely desecrating a corpse is taboo enough.

After all, the Fire Worship advocated cremation, the soul returning to Hell or ascending to Heaven.

This magic even stripped people of the right to fully die. Even if the local Fire Worship Church could turn a blind eye, ordinary believers would certainly harbor resentment against him.

All in all, it’s something that might shake his prestige.

“Kemel, these are the corpses of heretics, they are redeeming themselves.”

“That Red Robe Knight is probably someone important among the Franks; otherwise, he wouldn’t be this difficult. As long as we kill him, even Governor Adil and King Saladin will forgive my minor acts of desecration.”

Governor Mahri seemed to be explaining to Kemel, or perhaps comforting himself.

As long as he gained the approval of these two, some ordinary believers’ hostility meant nothing to him. Moreover, being able to command the dead and deprive the enemy of peaceful rest might result in people fearing, respecting, and obeying him even more!

…

On the other side, the usually calm Richard showed a hint of surprise on his face.

“Headless Knights… the enemy can control such undead?”

The Witch, who gathered and dispersed like smoke, appeared behind Richard. Appointed by the Queen to guard him, her strength wasn’t as formidable as that of Anna, who had one foot in legend as a powerful Caster. Yet, she was not someone a mere Mage Apprentice like Nishaya could rival.

“Martha, can you handle these Headless Knights?”

Martha’s eyes were full of gravity, but her tone was confident: “I can. Their existence hovers between illusion and reality, not entirely phantasmal, which means mundane weapons can harm them. Of course, having Demon-Blocking Gold would be better. But Your Majesty, I must remind you that these Headless Knights are puppets. There is undoubtedly a Caster behind them whose skills likely exceed mine.”

“No worries, I’m here.”

Richard’s smile was filled with confidence as he drew the Sword in the Stone, which had never left its scabbard before. This Treasure Sword held more symbolic significance than practical use, as it wasn’t much stronger than an ordinary treasure sword in terms of sturdiness.

It was said that King Arthur had broken it during a battle once.

In previous battles, he had used the Sword of Victory, a King’s Sword gifted by Her Majesty the Queen, which was the Lady of the Lake’s Sword obtained after King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone broke. Due to its ability to cut through iron like butter, it was also called the Broken Steel Sword.

In comparison, the Sword in the Stone, filled with Magic Contracts and Runes, was better suited to deal with these eerie abominations.

“It’s a pity you didn’t get the Sword in the Stone’s scabbard, or you would have gained the Magic Power of immortality.”

Martha glanced at Richard nonchalantly, with repressed admiration hidden deep in her eyes.

Even in a Wizard’s eyes, Richard was among the best of worldly men, but sadly, he belonged to her teacher, and she wouldn’t dare to compete for him.

“Ha, how can everything in the world be as I wish?”

Richard’s fingers stroked the inscriptions on the Sword in the Stone, which bore ancient Celtic writing—whoever draws this sword shall be king of all lands.

“Imperial Guard, follow me into battle!”

He raised his sword and shouted, his voice roaring like a lion, rousing the Crusader Soldiers who were steeped in fear: “They are but a rotting horde of dead, and under the Heavenly Lord’s glory, led by your King, they shall turn to ashes!”

However, just as Richard was readying himself for a battle, a disturbance broke out among the Saracens across from him.

A regiment of Armored Cavalry, covered entirely in iron armor with Face-covering Helmets, leaving no gaps exposed, formed neat horizontal ranks and charged the Saracens’ flank like a torrent capable of flattening everything in its path.

A Knight wearing a Golden Mask Helmet, followed by a Flagbearer holding a “Double-headed Eagle Banner,” rode a colossal, hellish unicorn leading the charge.

“That person is…”

“Marquis Losa.”

Richard frowned.

“I must admit, I’m starting to dislike that fellow.”

Though rivals and harboring disdain for Losa’s origins, he couldn’t deny his fondness for the Eastern Lord, who resembled him, often led charges at the forefront, and whose illustrious achievements and widespread fame were well-known.

Just like his relationship with King Philip, once they were so intimate they slept foot-to-foot, yet now they were competitors vying for dominance over Western Europe, viewing each other as arch-nemeses.

Count Fuller wiped the blood off his hands, speaking softly: “But Your Majesty, I have to say, the arrival of Marquis Losa has given me a breath of relief.”

In Europe, they had faced threats from Casters but never had to contend with an Army of the Dead.

Even if they could win, it would inevitably be a pyrrhic victory.

Afterward, raising a new force in the Holy Land would become exponentially more difficult.

…

Venezia was excited.

To a Bloodthirsty Mad Wolf, only the sight of blood brings the true joy of combat.

The sparring with Hans could barely whet the appetite.

Hans held the Armored Lance that provided a twenty percent defense enhancement to all Cavalry and, coupled with Jeanne’s “Knight’s Flower” Talent enhancement, the fighting power of Losa’s cavalry was at the pinnacle of this world’s secular armies.

Even armies infused with Extraordinary Magic Potion, if not in scale, could not withstand such terrifying assaults.

Meanwhile, in Losa’s hands, the unassuming Duke’s New Spear—despite its one usable feature of being indestructible—remained a powerful weapon.

Losa clearly also saw those emitting eerie green light, the Headless Knights on the battlefield. Their chilling aura formed a thin line, converging at its endpoint, clearly indicating their controller.

“Nina, locate the enemy Caster. Act when you have the advantage, but don’t be reckless. Jeanne’s Holy Spear is notably effective against this Death Power. If the enemy’s strength is on a par with that of a Caster like Mudeliji, just guide Jeanne on the right path.”

Mudeliji was the Caster under Saladin who had previously driven the Undead Army; Losa only learned his name afterward.

Winds howled past Losa’s ears.

Cherinita’s voice rang out: “Got it, my lord.”

Lavinia watched the awe-inspiring medieval war scene, her face full of marvel. It was her first time at the battlefront, and her Wolf Race bloodline kept her free from fear, instead arousing a thrilling impulse.

However, she ultimately disliked using the Extraordinary Power against ordinary people, which felt like slaughtering the weak.

Nonetheless, she wouldn’t hold back.

After all, the Guardian’s Talent had amplified her Spiritual Power by a hundred percent. If she did nothing, it would be a waste.

“Decree: Weak and Powerless.”

The wide-scale weakening decree descended upon every enemy present. Perhaps the impact on each was minimal, but compared to the augmentation their side received, the gap was as vast as heaven and earth.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep