I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 174 Fratricide

On the other side of the temporary defensive line separated by fences, the central camp belonging to the Lords' Alliance and the mercenaries of Kutenberg was originally as silent as a taut string.

Although the crushing defeat during the day weighed heavily on everyone's minds, they were, after all, a professionally trained army.

Most of the soldiers remained lying down fully clothed, huddled around the campfire with their weapons.

However, the shouts that suddenly erupted from the Kuman camp quickly shattered everything.

First came a chaotic roar in Cumanese from the west.

Immediately afterwards, firelight shone from between the felt tents.

Before the sentry on night watch could figure out what was happening, he instinctively blew the alarm.

"Something's happened on the west side!"

"Things have gotten chaotic among the Cumans!"

The sleepy soldiers scrambled to their feet, grabbed their weapons, and looked with suspicion towards the cordon.

That camp, which should have belonged to our allies, was now a scene of boiling fire and shadows.

Just then, the first tremor came from deep within the earth.

At first, only the water bag placed on the ground swayed slightly.

Immediately afterwards, the tremors became clearer. A muffled rumble rolled in from the depths of the western camp, as if an unseen heavy cavalry force was crushing the night and charging toward them.

"What's that noise?!"

"Cavalry? Where did these cavalry come from?!"

Countless terrified faces rose from beside the tents and the campfire.

There are plenty of veterans in the army who have dealt with horses; they are all too familiar with this sound.

That was the sound of a large herd of warhorses galloping wildly.

And it's not just dozens of horses, it's hundreds, or even more.

"The Cumans have rebelled!"

I don't know who said that first.

On such a tense night, those words were like a spark falling into a haystack, instantly igniting everyone's fear.

Meanwhile, inside the largest main tent in the center of the camp, Sigismund abruptly flung open the heavy curtain and strode out...

come out.

The Hungarian king hadn't even had time to put on his breastplate; he was only wearing a long robe embroidered with gold, and his face was filled with gloom and rage.

He saw the flames soaring into the sky to the west and heard the approaching sound of horses' hooves.

"These brainless beasts—"

Sigismund gripped the sword at his waist tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Having just suffered a defeat, are you going to start a mutiny in my camp?"

Olitz had already led several bodyguards to the front of the cordon.

This German knight was clearly much calmer than the ordinary soldiers. He wasted no time figuring out what was happening, and instead roared at the already awakened soldiers, "Spearmen forward! Archers to the rear!"

"Quickly! Everyone, hold this line!"

The soldiers ran in the chaos.

They didn't have time to form a proper formation and could only hastily squeeze into a defensive line behind the isolation fence.

This was the only thing they could do.

With a clang, Olitz drew his longsword, its tip pointing towards the approaching darkness to the west: "Anyone who crosses that fence, man or horse—kill them without mercy!"

The soldiers of the Lords' Alliance were not given much time to think or be afraid.

That black torrent, formed by hundreds of frightened horses, surged out from the western camp.

The first thing we heard was not a shadow, but a sound.

The thunderous sound of hooves grew louder and louder, pressing down on each other, making one's chest feel heavy. Then, the firelight illuminated the churning horses' heads, manes, and white foam in the darkness, as well as their eyes, wide with fear.

The spearmen in the front row held their spears high with all their might.

They stood behind the makeshift fence, shoulder to shoulder, the tips of their guns pointing diagonally forward.

There were no barricades, nor a sturdy enough wooden wall; all that stood in their way was the isolation fence and the trembling spears within them.

"Stay calm!!"

Olitz's chilling roar boomed in the wind: "Anyone who dares to back down even half a step, I'll hang their head on the flagpole!!"

The next moment, the herd of horses crashed into them.

boom!!!

The dozen or so warhorses at the very front simply couldn't stop.

They neighed and crashed into the fence, the fragile wooden poles snapping and flying everywhere. Several warhorses simultaneously slammed into spears, the sharp tips piercing flesh with a teeth-grinding tearing sound.

But just because the spear pierced them doesn't mean they'll stop immediately.

Those massive bodies continued to press forward with the momentum of their charge, the spear shafts bending violently in the soldiers' hands before snapping one after another.

The spearmen in the front row didn't even have time to let go.

The immense recoil traveled along the spear shafts, causing their hands to split open and their arms to go numb. Then, the warhorse's heavy body slammed into the crowd.

The spearmen at the very front were knocked over by the impact.

Broken fences, shattered spear shafts, and heavy horse carcasses crashed into the crowd, their screams instantly drowned out by the impact and the sound of hooves.

The sound was swallowed up.

Several soldiers who didn't have time to retreat were immediately knocked to the ground, their breastplates twisted and deformed, and the blood and foam spurting from their mouths and noses quickly mixed with the mud and horse blood.

Warm horse blood sprayed onto the soldiers' faces.

Under the firelight, broken spears, shattered wood, horse carcasses, and human figures were mixed together, and the entire isolation zone instantly turned into a bloody, muddy mess.

Forced forward by Olitz's roar, the soldiers in the rear pushed forward, and new spears pierced through the gaps in the ranks, embedding themselves in the chests and bellies of the warhorses that still wanted to charge.

Some of the frightened horses were stabbed and fell in front of the gap in the fence, their huge corpses forming a still twitching wall of flesh.

Another group squeezed through the gap, carrying broken ropes and pieces of wood, and continued to rush into the edge of the central camp, knocking over several tents that had not yet been packed up.

More horses, however, were stopped by the corpses and spears and scattered in terror to both sides.

In a short time, the fence that had temporarily separated the two camps had been smashed open with several bloody gaps. The ground was littered with broken wood, broken spears, horse carcasses, and soldiers crushed beyond recognition.

Blood pooled in the ground, flowing down into the cracks in the soil, filling the air with a strong, nauseating smell of rust and entrails.

However, this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

Behind the mountain of horse carcasses, a group of figures could be vaguely seen running on two legs.

Following behind the herd of horses were not rebels who wanted to defect and charge into battle, but a group of Cumans who were anxious and only wanted to reclaim their property.

For these nomadic people who grew up on horseback, horses were their second life, their entire livelihood—in that era, losing a well-trained warhorse was no less devastating than watching a modern person watch their top-of-the-line luxury car being pushed off a cliff.

At this moment, they didn't care about military discipline or what misunderstandings their frantic run might cause. Their only thought was to catch up with the "gold coins" that were running away in a frenzy.

"Toqtatiñiz! Atlarn1 toqtatqal1 boluşiñiz (Stop them! Help us stop the horses!)!!"

Several of the fastest Cuman soldiers staggered over the mountain of corpses made up of dead horses.

They waved their arms frantically at their "allies" across the way, shouting rapidly in Cuman, their eyes showing no murderous intent, only extreme anxiety and heartache at the impending loss of their property.

But what awaited them was not a helping hand to intercept them, but the cold, forest-like spearheads.

"kill!!"

A lord alliance sergeant, his eyes bloodshot with rage, thrust out his halberd.

Because the night was too dark, and the flickering firelight obstructed his vision, and because of his preconceived notion of "upheaval," he didn't bother to discern whether the other person's expression was ferocious or terrified.

In his eyes, these dark figures following closely behind the herd of horses were enemies who had come to claim his life.

puff!

The sharp spearhead pierced the abdomen of a Cuman centurion without resistance, easily penetrating his leather lamellar armor.

The centurion froze.

The expression on his face hadn't even had time to fade before it froze into one of utter astonishment and disbelief.

He gripped the spear shaft piercing his abdomen with both hands, staring wide-eyed at the face of his "ally" before him, his lips trembling as if he wanted to ask, "Why?"

But the blood rushing to his throat prevented him from making any sound, only producing a "hoarse" bubbling sound.

"Speak like a human being! You piece of trash who can't understand the gospel of God!"

The Lord Alliance soldier cursed in disgust, drew his spear, and kicked him away.

"Öltürme...öltürme... (Don't——Don't kill————)"

The other Cuman soldier who was following closely behind was stunned by the scene and instinctively wanted to stop.

But inertia did not let him go; the crowded people behind him pushed him forward and he fell.

puff.

Another spear shot out like a venomous snake and pierced his chest with pinpoint accuracy.

Blood splattered on the defense line.

At this moment, the trust that had once belonged to the same camp completely crumbled as the warm liquid spilled onto the ground.