"For the King!" Artoria roared, her voice slightly hoarse from the continuous battles, but on this quiet hillside, 100,000 people were silent, listening without difficulty as her words echoed in their ears.
"This is my home," she said, her face filled with shame and tears in her eyes, as the Sword of Victory she held aloft shone even brighter, like the sun.
"For this, I am sorry."
"But everything here requires them to pay with blood."
"For Camelot! For me! Knights! Charge!!!"
"For Camelot! For His Majesty! Charge!!!"
All the Knights spurred their horses, raised their Knight Lances high, and roared. They pulled down the visors on their helmets; these could block stray arrows. A Knight once had a stray arrow shot into his mouth during a charge because of this problem, and he was then ridiculed by all as a laughingstock for all eternity.
They certainly didn't want to be the second such Knight, so they were meticulous about their facial defense.
Artoria used to wear that too, one reason was to conceal her delicate face to instill fear in enemies, and the other was to prevent stray arrows. But after Kailar's [Avalon] was delivered to her saddle, she completely abandoned the heavy Knight Lance and bulky plate armor, only wearing a layer of dragonhide under-armor and then light armor before rushing directly to the battlefield.
So, to everyone, her defense seemed the lowest while wielding the Sword of Victory, yet she was eternally unkillable and uninjured.
In fact, that scabbard, constantly emitting a faint white light, was firmly locked onto Artoria, and any injury would immediately cause faint light to extend, helping her recover.
Even more at ease with this scabbard, Artoria simply roared, giving the signal.
"Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh!!!" The Knights howled, and with the sound of the charge horn, they spurred their horses, raised their lances, and charged downwards.
Chaos began to spread uncontrollably. Due to receiving too many routed soldiers, almost a 3:1 ratio, these routed soldiers were mixed among the 220,000. Their morale and spirit had been completely shattered, leaving only the timid courage of quails. If one or two victorious attacks had been used to boost their morale and killing intent, perhaps their warrior careers could have been salvaged. But facing over 100,000 Knights twice within two days, they uncontrollably began to recall the brutal slaughter after the collapse yesterday: over 50,000 people hacked to death on the spot, skewered, beheaded, and their internal organs ruptured by being trampled by horses!
These were still the better outcomes. The real tragedies were those whose bones were shattered by impact or whose bones were broken and they lay on the ground wailing for two or three days before dying. Where would the Camelot people have the time to care for the injuries of these invaders? In the end, they either died from wound infections or were eaten by animals.
And their fear of the Camelot Knights was the deepest. Their unrest and panic quickly spread to the Vikings.
Humans have a herd mentality; no matter what, when people around them become afraid, they too will soon start to panic. This is emotional influence, emotional resonance.
Facing such a situation, perhaps an orderly army could maintain its camp through discipline, or a skilled general could suppress the unrest with his prestige, but Inglish had neither!
So the unrest could only spread like a tide, and thus, a camp riot occurred.
A camp riot is a very terrifying military event, even in modern times there are many similar occurrences. In a camp riot, soldiers, due to not being able to see, darkness, the fatigue of army training, and the tense atmosphere of military management, fill the entire camp with suppression. When a camp riot suddenly occurs in the completely relaxed darkness, the entire camp will move with it.
Even in modern times, with such strict management, and camps with light bulbs and loudspeakers, camp riots can still happen, let alone this ragtag group.
In an instant, Inglish's control over his troops dropped to its lowest.
He didn't realize how much harm this would cause. Having plundered at sea for years, he had no experience in large-scale land warfare. At this point, he had two choices: one was to immediately lead his elite troops away from this panic-filled and chaotic grand camp back to the port. The other was to hold the camp, killing anyone who dared to enter.
More and more blood would calm them, but Inglish didn't realize the horror of this matter, so his messengers went out and never returned, and even his camp was impacted by the riot.
He was the central commander; his soldiers were all elites. Five thousand berserkers, fully armored in iron, were his guarantee, and he himself was an excellent berserker, his combat power not to be underestimated. But even so, his elite troops also began to go berserk. Apart from the two thousand men around him, it seemed the Barbarians of the entire grand camp had fallen into a feast of revelry: slaughter, death, howling, and blood!
Death was spreading! And not just their own infighting!
Artoria took advantage of the chaos and charged directly into the enemy's formation, then began to slaughter with her excellent horsemanship.
It seemed the Camelot Knights were not afraid of such a chaotic scene? Of course not! Why should they fear such a scene? Because they only needed to look up, and that golden light was right in front of them, guiding their path. Even if they couldn't see the way, they only needed to follow the golden light, spur their horses towards the golden light, and victory would be in sight!
"For Camelot!" Artoria shouted loudly while slaying enemies a head shorter than her, proclaiming, "For Camelot!"
This was the slogan Kailar first shouted, almost as inspiring as China's "Long Live China," and shouting it often could brainwash people!
"Kill!" Artoria mercilessly pierced through the enemy's formation, but suddenly an arrow came from the other side. The leader was none other than Grand Duke Andrei.
Grand Duke Andrei, wearing a large red cloak over black armor and riding a black warhorse, was like a ghost in the darkness. But the extended and widened Knight Longsword he wielded was like a meat grinder, any Barbarian who approached was cut to pieces by him.
Behind him were five thousand Knights who had been resting and building up their energy for half a month. During this half-month, they had only heard about the deaths of ordinary people and the brutal siege from above, yet they could do nothing. Confined to the Lord's Mansion, they had long since become restless, their self-esteem unable to accept it. Now, Grand Duke Andrei's decisive attack allowed them to vent a great deal of pent-up frustration.