Chapter 93: Chapter 92: The Routed Centaurs
In an instant, the Centaurs made the connection between the Light Cavalry before them and the humans from that night.
’It’s them!’
To be honest, many of the Centaurs had been unconvinced that night, believing the humans had relied on despicable tactics.
But now, with the chance for a rematch right in front of them, the reality only served to once again prove the might of the human Cavalry.
Wails and cries erupted from the Centaurs. This human Cavalry charge was the last straw.
The entire Centaur army was no longer retreating; it was a full-blown rout.
"Out of my way! Out of my way!"
Daimon was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, caught in a desperate race for his life across the battlefield.
With human Knights in relentless pursuit, even an idiot like Daimon could grasp the situation.
He had considered the possibility of defeat, but he never imagined his so-called Centaur Elite would crumble at the first sign of contact and scatter to the winds.
The entire army’s formation had collapsed.
Daimon had only one thought now: escape with his life and run to some place where humans couldn’t find him.
Any thoughts of winning glory to save his career or completing the Prince’s mission to avoid a purge vanished.
None of that mattered when his life was on the line.
....
"Report! General! General Daimon’s Centaur forces have been shattered by the enemy’s charge.
General Daimon is missing, and the entire Centaur army has scattered, with the human Cavalry hunting them down.
General, we don’t have much time."
"So fast?!"
Marin, who was in the middle of rallying his army, looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head.
’How many minutes has it been since they set out?’
’Factoring in the travel time, doesn’t that mean they were annihilated the second they engaged? Swept aside like leaves in the wind?’
Marin cursed Daimon internally. ’All that boasting about their martial prowess, and this is what happens when they’re actually put to the test.’
"Damn it! That arrogant Daimon!" Marin cursed viciously.
Marin normally prided himself on what humans called "refinement," a trait he had picked up from his human mentor.
"Cavalry? It has been a long time since I’ve seen that kind of soldier."
To Marin’s surprise, the human Mage in his mind spoke up. Although the voice was toneless, Marin could still sense a hint of surprise in the words.
"You failed, didn’t you? I told you so. Follow my advice, surrender to the Human Race, and you’ll have it made."
Marin didn’t have the energy to critique his mentor’s choice of words. Perhaps the long years of being sealed had made his soul as rotten as the parasitic ring it inhabited.
Marin turned and looked at the only unit in his entire army that had finished assembling: one thousand Infantry from the Northern Bear Race.
These Bear Race Soldiers possessed powerful physiques. Their thick layers of fat and fur served as natural armor. If clad in iron plate, they were often a nightmare for human Cavalry on the battlefield.
But Marin had no iron armor. The Bear Race Soldiers could only wear the most basic leather. Even so, their own fat, combined with the leather armor, still offered a respectable degree of defense.
"Chieftain Sol, I’m counting on you. You must hold them back until we finish forming our lines. If the enemy can’t break through, they will naturally retreat," Marin said, looking at the Northern Bearman before him.
This wasn’t the same Northern Bear Race Warrior that Chief Bro had released, but he too was one of Chief Bro’s offspring.
Now, he had been brought out by Prince Kase to lead the Northern Bear Race and redeem themselves through merit.
Sol swallowed hard. He had little combat experience. Although the Northern Bear Race was generally experienced in fighting human Cavalry, that depended on *which* members of the Northern Bear Race were fighting, and *which* human Cavalry they were facing.
Despite his inner reluctance, it was clear from Marin’s expression that this was not a negotiation.
Prince Kase had never formally addressed the Northern Bear Race’s last major defeat. But not pursuing the matter didn’t mean they were forgiven. Sol’s presence here was, in essence, a mission to redeem his people.
If he failed again, Prince Kase would undoubtedly make an example of him, for reasons both political and personal.
"As you command, General," Sol said.
...
Robson stood on a high platform, watching everything unfold. His Extraordinary power granted him an exceptional field of vision.
The battle was going smoother than he had expected.
The terrified Centaurs were no match for his Knight Order. Now, they were fleeing in a blind panic.
Most fled back the way they came, while many others scattered in random directions.
The entire army lacked any sense of organization or discipline. It wasn’t so much that the Centaur army was incompetent, but rather that they were completely outmatched.
The moment the Knight Order appeared and delivered the decisive blow, their defeat was sealed. Their incompetent commander had failed to organize an orderly retreat.
Then again, a so-called "orderly retreat" doesn’t really exist in the face of an all-out Cavalry charge.
Most of the enemy were now fleeing toward their own camp. But "camp" was a generous term; there were barely any tents left. Robson’s earlier strategy of setting the mountain ablaze had been a resounding success. The Beastmen were left to scrounge for materials among the smoldering ruins.
In any case, everything was going smoothly. Robson let out an inward sigh of relief.
He didn’t even need to continue the pursuit. The enemy’s siege was already a lost cause.
"Three long horn blasts, and lower the blue flag," Robson said to the messenger at his side.
In the system of signals Robson had devised, this was the order for a slow retreat.
Enemy reinforcements had appeared at the edge of the battlefield. The Centaurs were smart enough not to charge his army’s formation—perhaps the only thing they’d done all day that resembled the actions of an elite force. At least they knew how to use their heads when running for their lives.
He chose to retreat not because he believed his Soldiers couldn’t break the enemy’s line.
That was impossible. Without iron armor, the Bear Race Soldiers stood no chance of withstanding a charge from his Knight Order.
But pressing the attack would surely lead to unnecessary casualties.
Robson’s Cavalry were exceptionally valuable now. He had over fifty Tier Five Cavalry alone. His entire Cavalry Team was built around Tier Three Cavalry, making even Tier Two Cavalry a rare sight.
As his Soldiers advanced in tier, Robson’s own mindset had shifted. He’d trained them one by one; how could he bear to send them into a meat grinder?
Some of those Tier Five Soldiers had even been sent by Count Offman himself—they were true founding veterans.
Of course, the main reason was that Robson now had an even greater weapon at his disposal.
The Magic Crystal Cannon was still mounted on the platform, not a single shot yet fired.
After preparing for so long, arranging for so many Mages and technicians, this was the moment Robson had been waiting for.
Of course, part of his plan was also to give these Magic Crystal Gunners some battlefield experience.
If he could train them all into an elite force, they would become a Sword of Damocles hanging over his enemies.
