I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 169 Explosion is Art

The Kuman chieftain saw the object flying from the city wall immediately.

His pupils contracted sharply, and he pulled hard on the reins.

"Scatter! Scatter!!"

The warhorse neighed in pain, and several guards also scrambled to the sides in fear.

But the terracotta pot didn't explode like the Dancing Star from before.

It crashed onto the muddy ground in front of the Cuman cavalry position, making a series of crisp cracking sounds.

Snapped!Snapped!Snapped!

Seven or eight pottery jars were shattered at the same time.

There was no fire.

There was no roar.

Only large plumes of smoke billowed from the debris, like a strange fog suddenly emerging from the ground, quickly spreading between the horses' hooves.

The Kuman leader was stunned for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, as if he had grasped at some lifeline, he grinned and swung his scimitar.

"Did you see that?!"

"That wasn't thunder! Nor was it divine punishment! It was just witchcraft! Just scary smoke!!"

His voice became fierce again, even carrying a hint of hysterical ecstasy.

"Get back! Charge! Shoot that bastard on the city wall like a hedgehog!"

The Cuman cavalry, who had begun to waver, regained some courage because of the strange fog that did not explode.

Someone reined in the warhorse again.

Someone began to raise their bow.

Some even let out rude laughter, as if the fear they felt just moments before was merely their imagination.

But they didn't notice that Sieg on the city wall had just taken over the second cluster bomb.

This time, it's Dancing Star.

Haitar's face was pale, but he still handed the bundled cluster metal bomb to Sieg without saying a word.

Zig put the Cluster Dancing Star into his pocket.

The heavy sling began to spin again.

This time, the sound of wind breaking was like the drawn-out breath of death.

The Kuman leader finally realized something was wrong.

He looked up and saw a second dark shadow fly out from the city wall and fall towards the smoke.

"No"

The word had just been squeezed out of his throat.

The next moment, the Cluster Dancing Star crashed into the smoke released by Dragon Dream.

boom!!!

A familiar, even more terrifying, explosion resounded on the slope outside the city of Skarlitz.

That wasn't the explosion of a bomb.

Several dancing stars shattered simultaneously, and the flames instantly swallowed the flammable smoke released by Dragon Dream. The entire fog, like an oil sea that had been ignited, suddenly expanded into a dazzling crimson fire cloud.

The flames engulfed the Kuman chieftain, as well as the circle of guards around him who hadn't had time to escape.

The neighing of warhorses, the screams of people, and the sharp clanging of metal as it was blown apart were all drowned out by the roar of the explosion.

A huge fireball rose from the ground.

The shockwave swept outwards, carrying mud, gravel, pottery shards, and burning cloth pieces. The nearest Cuman cavalrymen were thrown off their horses and men.

When the fire finally died down, all that remained was a huge, charred, shallow crater.

The area around the pit was littered with burnt and deformed fragments of armor, broken horse legs, shattered scimitars, and several charred remains whose original shapes were indistinguishable.

one strike.

It was just one strike.

Just moments before, it was a bustling battlefield filled with the neighing of warhorses and the roars of officers.

However, now, as the rolling cloud of fire slowly dissipated, all sounds seemed to be forcibly swallowed up by the scorched pit belching black smoke.

The once imposing Kuman chieftain, riding a horse and brandishing his scimitar to force his men to charge, has completely vanished.

Not only him, but even the circle of personal guards around him seemed to have been wiped off the ground by an invisible hand.

"Chief—leader?"

A surviving Cuman centurion called out tremblingly, his voice as dry as wood cracked by smoke.

no respond.

Only the flames still danced on the muddy ground, burning the tattered cloaks and broken horse harnesses.

"The devil—that's the devil!"

I don't know who broke down and shouted first.

Immediately afterwards, the Cumans were in complete uproar.

All military discipline, all greed, all ferocity—all went to hell at that moment.

Even the bravest Cuman warriors threw down their recurve bows and whipped their horses frantically as if they had seen a ghost, wishing they could sprout wings and fly away from this cursed place.

This time, no one dared to stop and regroup, nor did anyone dare to look back at the castle that seemed to stand on the edge of hell.

At the foot of the walls of Skarlitz, the infantry army, caught in a dilemma and on the verge of collapse, became the most direct witnesses to this "miracle".

If the previous boiling oil, seas of fire, and poison gas only instilled fear in the private soldiers of these lord alliances:

So at that moment, when that earth-shattering roar exploded behind them, that fear instantly transformed into despair.

A massive blast of air, accompanied by scorching winds, slammed violently against the backs of the attacking troops.

Many soldiers who were holding up their shields and carefully guarding against the arrows overhead were knocked to the ground by the sudden shockwave.

When they scrambled to their feet and instinctively turned to look, everyone froze in place, as if petrified.

"My God—look at that pit—"

A town militiaman pointed to the deep crater in the distance, which looked as if it had been blasted by a meteorite, his voice trembling as if he were crying, "That's not something human could have done—it's divine retribution! There are demons in Skarlitz!!"

Fear is a contagious plague, especially when morale is on the verge of collapse.

"I'm not playing anymore—I'm not playing anymore!!"

It's unclear who first threw away their shield, but the rout was like a flood bursting its banks, completely out of control.

"Those are cannons! They have cannons!!"

The military discipline that had been barely maintained completely collapsed.

In that instant, the infantry unit was reduced to a group of panicked refugees.

The soldiers turned around hastily, pushing and shoving each other, trying to outrun those around them.

The large shields and spears that were originally used for fighting were now considered burdens and were scattered all over the ground.

Many soldiers, while fleeing, haphazardly tore off their helmets and robes, and desperately untied the leather straps on their shoulders, trying to lighten their armor.

But those plate armor and chainmails weren't things a person could easily take off while running. The more panicked they became, the more their hands and feet were hindered by the straps and armor, making their run even more disheveled.

The view from the city wall is both ironic and spectacular.

The army that had surged toward the castle like a black tide was now being swept away in disarray, leaving behind a scene of corpses, weapons, and utter devastation outside the walls of Skaritz.

This is defeat.

A complete and utter defeat with no chance of recovery.

Further back, beneath that golden-red canopy that symbolizes power.

Sigismund, the Hungarian king known for his cunning and iron fist, stood like a frozen statue, staring intently at the still-smoking pit in the distance.

The jewel-encrusted scepter in his hand had somehow slipped from his grasp and landed on his expensive deerskin boots, but he seemed completely oblivious to it.

His face was as pale as paper, and for the first time, his eyes revealed undisguised astonishment and fear.

"Marcova————"

After a long silence, Sigismund managed to squeeze out a sound, his finger pointing into the distance trembling violently. 66

Did you see it?

Standing beside him was Markovar von Olitz, a battle-hardened German knight, whose performance at this moment was not much better than that of the king.

His usually gloomy and cold face was now tense, with fine beads of cold sweat on his forehead, and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as if he was trying to swallow the absurd reality before him.

"I saw it—Your Majesty." Olitz's voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of disbelief trembling, "The power—the shockwave and sound of the explosion—"

The two exchanged a glance, and both saw the same chilling word in each other's eyes.

It's not witchcraft.

As highly educated nobles and rulers, they did not truly believe in the gods and monsters of rural legends.

In their understanding, there is only one thing that can produce such a thunderous roar and instantly blast a man and a horse into pieces.

gunpowder.

Moreover, it was a very large amount of gunpowder.

"cannon----"

Sigismund muttered to himself, a chill running through his voice, "Skaritz—they actually hid cannons?!"

Once the thought arose, it coiled around his heart like a venomous snake.

If it was a cannon, then everything makes sense. Why was there a loud bang? Why was there an explosion? Why was it so devastating?

But how is that possible?

In this day and age, cannons are still those cumbersome siege mortars that are as heavy as pigs and can only lie on the ground to fire stone projectiles.

They are slow to load, have short ranges, and are extremely inaccurate; moreover, a single firing could even cause a barrel explosion that kills one's own troops.

But what was that attack just now?

That was something thrown from the city wall, which landed two hundred meters away in the cavalry position and then exploded into a cloud of fire big enough to engulf men and horses!

"Could it be—" Olitz took a deep breath, his voice filled with fear of the unknown, "Could it be that those damned silver miners secretly developed some kind of new cannon we don't know about in that mine?"

"A lighter, longer-range, yet incredibly powerful—new type of cannon?"

This conjecture sent a chill down their spines.

If Skaritz truly possessed this advanced war machine, then this would not be a simple war of plunder, but a terrifying variable capable of altering the entire landscape of Bohemia, and even the entire Holy Roman Empire.

They didn't even dare to imagine what would have happened if that "shell" hadn't hit the Cumans but instead been aimed at the Wara—the consequences would have been unimaginable.