Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

"Walk……"

He raised his spear, gripping the leather-wrapped hardwood shaft tightly. Cold sweat seeped through his chainmail, making his palms feel slippery to the touch. Akar, his standard-bearer, led in a tall, armored warhorse. The horse was a full 1.8 meters tall at the shoulder, its exposed hooves as black as ink. It was violently shaking its head, the reins screeching loudly.

"My lord, please mount your horse."

He silently stared at the brass stirrups, then tentatively stepped in, grabbed the saddle seat of the Takahashi horse, and awkwardly sat down on the saddle with both hands and feet. The warhorse shook its head uncomfortably, its hooves pawing the ground, but quickly quieted down.

He held the spear in his right hand and touched the iron staff at his waist with his left. A kite-shaped shield was handed to him, with a double-headed eagle symbol painted on the purple shield. Looking at this distinctly Roman symbol, even though he had a thousand words in his heart, he found it difficult to speak at this moment. He could only tentatively kick the horse's belly lightly with his heel to urge the warhorse forward.

He followed the gentle slope to the foot of the mountain, and gently tugged the reins, turning his warhorse to look at the cavalrymen arrayed on the hillside. These men were so well-trained and so fearless; apart from the rustling of their armor, they were as silent as the dead.

As is customary, he should have said something to boost morale, which is a basic quality of a commander. But he wasn't a commander; he was just a student who knew nothing... So he could only silently turn his horse around, then take the lead, huddling tightly on the horse's back, and charge into the chaotic battlefield.

Chapter 3 Fighting to the Death (1)

'Jesus, God, Allah, the Three Pure Ones, the Four Emperors, Buddha… whoever brought me here, please save me!!!'

Xu Ning prayed to every deity he could think of. He had never been so sincere before. He vowed that he would become a devout fanatic if anyone could help him escape this terrible situation. He didn't care if he could never eat meat or get married, as long as he could live for the moment.

He remained tightly locked to the saddle, the violent jolting making him feel as if he could be thrown off at any moment. If he fell, no one else could slow down in time; the only outcome would be being trampled into a bloody pulp by thousands of hooves. Even with two layers of heavy armor, he wouldn't escape unscathed. Therefore, if he didn't want to die, he could only do his utmost to control this magnificent, wild horse.

With the help of the stirrups and the saddle, he managed to keep his body from falling off so easily, but he still couldn't maintain his balance on the horse. Whenever he tried to straighten up to observe the situation, he would feel a strong sense of panic spreading from his back, as if he would fall off the horse if he raised his head even a little more.

So he was stuck in this strange position, gripping his spear and shield tightly with both hands. If he lost these two items, he would either die here or run away in front of everyone.

The army numbered only 1000, yet their imposing presence and the commotion they made were like a mountain shaking. Their smooth, scaled armor gleamed in the light rain, and the spears and swords in their hands emitted a dazzling, cold light. The heavy scale armor clad on their warhorses made a rustling sound with each step forward, a sound that was not subtle but rather quite intense, like the incessant drumming of a marching army, urging the cavalrymen toward the battlefield.

rustling...rustling...

The armor plates, held together by tough leather straps, rubbed against each other like heavy waves, scraping against the inside of his calves. The warhorse's panting was so clear, the mane spilling from the armor seams brushing against his hands. Its strong, powerful muscles twitched beneath its fur, a sensation he could easily feel even through the thick armor… This was definitely a fine horse; even the most foolish person could tell, especially in ancient times when it could only be bought with gold. Yet now he could ride such a horse…

He tentatively spread his legs, trying not to curl up completely. He didn't know why he was doing this; perhaps he felt that such a posture was a disservice to such a fine horse. As his legs straightened, his feet firmly gripped the saddle, feeling a stable support. Adjusting his hips and slowly adjusting his waist, he finally managed to lift his head, and then he saw the scenery rushing past him...

The lush green grass stretched out in the rain, glistening raindrops streaming down its tips. Then, these vibrant lives would be mercilessly trampled by horses' hooves. Some would rise again, while others would become one with the soil. The surrounding mountains still stood tall, but none were particularly high. It seemed that everything had bypassed the huge central basin, providing a place for people to fight.

A raindrop hit his helmet, then jumped merrily into his eye. The clear, glistening drop made his eyeball feel slightly cool, and he instinctively closed his eyes, squeezing the raindrop out of the corner of his eye. It flowed down his cheek, and countless raindrops pattered against his body, seeping into the gaps in his chainmail and other armor. They were then absorbed by his thick inner coat, but he still felt cold.

The immense heat emanating from the warhorses scorched his face, carrying the distinctive odor of the beasts. They maintained a slow trotting motion, each rider restraining their mounts to form a wedge-shaped formation. The knights skillfully manipulated the reins and whips, keeping their mounts disciplined and maintaining a tight formation as they approached that hellish scene.

The sounds of wind, rain, the rustling of armor, the panting of warhorses, the rapid thud of hooves, the shouts and cries of cavalrymen… all of this was laid bare before him, completely unobstructed. He had never felt the world so vibrant, life so unique. He could even hear the beating of each person's heart, their panting behind their chainmail visors, hear people praying to the gods for victory, and hear others praying for their souls to find peace after death.

Suddenly, he was no longer afraid or flustered. He listened and observed with great interest... Everything in the world seemed to slow down in his eyes. He could hear more and more sounds. He could clearly see every blade of grass rubbing against each other. With each breath, the chainmail rings vibrated...

"Riding skill requirement: 105"

Riding skill level: 277

The test has been passed.

"?!...What was that sound?"

Xu Ning looked around in a panic. A cold, mechanical voice had suddenly rang in his ears, and the information it conveyed...

"grown ups!!……"

Akar's panicked voice suddenly rang out from the side. A rabbit hole, hidden by weeds in the grass, suddenly appeared at very close range, but they didn't have time to turn their horses around. With both men and horses heavily armored, a single fall could have devastating consequences for the heavy cavalry, and that rabbit hole was now right under his horse's hooves...

Almost instinctively, he suddenly tightened his grip on the horse's belly, and with his right hand holding the spear, he slightly tugged at the right rein. At the same time, he adjusted his center of gravity slightly. The magnificent warhorse seemed to understand his will, and with its four hooves slightly crossed, it bypassed the dangerous hole and continued galloping forward.

He immediately adjusted his posture, returning to his previous state, leaving Akar speechless and forced to remain silent as he continued to follow.

Xu Ning involuntarily gripped his spear tighter, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him—joy, anger, relief, and above all, a sense of peace. He had indeed received help, but he hadn't noticed it until just now, in that peculiar state he was in, when he finally heard the sound he had been ignoring, the sound drowned out by the noise of the battlefield.

And now, he finally has some confidence...

Chapter 4 Fighting to the Death (2)

Banners, obscuring the sky, emerged from the ranks of soldiers like withered arms reaching out from the dark sea. Banners fell to the ground, only to be picked up again, stained with blood and mud. The enemy, clad in dark green armor, did not use banners to identify their ranks. Instead, their formations were marked by feathered flagpoles, the feathers of various colors pieced together into unique patterns, guiding their warriors in the charge.

Xu Ning led his troops to wander along the edge of the battlefield. He didn't know what to do. He was told to destroy the enemy's archers... but those guys who were drawing their longbows and firing continuously were clearly in the center of the army formation, surrounded by a thick infantry formation protecting them. Could he, with only a thousand men, break through?

So he approached the enemy lines again and again, turning his horse around and circling amidst the rain of arrows. Several arrows struck his armor, most failing to penetrate and bouncing off. A few that managed to embed themselves remained lodged in his body, but the impact of the heavy arrows still made him grimace. Yet, without raising his head, he kept his eyes fixed on the enemy lines, searching for any possible opening.

As time passed, he grew increasingly anxious. He knew that the horses had limited stamina, and if things continued like this, he would have to force them to run too early. Otherwise, once the horses ran out of energy, they would be unable to do anything.

Where are they? Where exactly is their weakness?!

He seemed to be one with his warhorse, paying no attention to the road, yet encountering no hindrance. The massive, agile steed skillfully led the cavalry formation, soaring across the grasslands like eagles. But everyone knew that these thousand-plus heavy cavalrymen could transform into enraged lions at any moment, tearing the infantry and archers' ranks to shreds.

As they completed another maneuver, the enemy formation suddenly parted to the sides, clearing a path—but not for them, but for the Horus' own cavalry…

Tactical requirements: 98

Tactical Level: 199

The test has been passed.

Xu Ning paused slightly, then with a single thought, he led everyone towards the opening. A cavalry force of similar numbers was charging, but they didn't have time to increase their speed. The heavily armored cavalrymen, their horses and riders clad in armor, covered the 200-meter distance in the blink of an eye, slamming themselves and their massive horses into the opening with their weight. Without any hesitation, he made the decision decisively, and the others did not hesitate either, entrusting their lives to him.

Several soldiers who hastily thrust out their spears were immediately trampled into a bloody pulp by the horses' hooves. The spears, hastily thrust out, also broke in two against the heavy armor. With the help of this foolish decision made by the enemy commander, they pierced into the infantry formation almost without any resistance. The light cavalry, who had not had time to accelerate, were not wearing armor on their horses and were only wearing light leather armor and helmets covering their torsos. When they collided with them, they were like porcelain thrown into a pile of stones, shattering in the blink of an eye.

In the instant of impact, he instinctively thrust out his spear. The finely forged spearhead tore through the hard leather armor without resistance, lifting the slender enemy off his horse. The two tabs beneath the spearhead prevented it from penetrating too deeply, and as if discarding trash, he twisted the spearhead downwards and tossed the corpse to the ground.

Proficiency level for long-handled thrusting weapons: 298

Thrust speed bonus: 789

Damage bonus: 564.

Inspection complete.

………………

With each thrust of his spear, he seemed to have been a lancer for decades, precisely timing his thrusts and using the correct grip to reduce the impact on the spear shaft, preventing it from breaking. He deftly moved the shield in his left hand to block every arrow and blade, swooping down like a hawk to strike its prey, felling one cavalryman and infantryman after another.

The galloping warhorses trampled one soldier after another who tried to stop them. Their spears couldn't halt the rampaging armored steeds; they could only watch helplessly as this steel torrent crushed their formation. The soldiers at the forefront had already discarded their spears, using only the powerful momentum of their horses to break into the enemy ranks. They then brandished their chain maces and iron clubs, smashing the heads of infantrymen while simultaneously spurring their comrades with their spurs. They forcefully pushed through the dense crowd, squeezing themselves into the fray.

It was truly astonishing. Just moments ago, he was terrified and even wanted to flee this horrific battlefield without a care in the world. But when he actually charged into the enemy ranks, his heart was as calm as ice. No negative emotions could spread through him. It was like running his fingertips through a blade of grass without stirring any ripples in his heart.

When piercing an enemy with a spear, the sharp blade cutting through flesh and scraping against bone could be clearly felt through the shaft of the spear. It was as if he were personally touching the slippery internal organs and bones as he plunged his hand into the enemy's abdomen, experiencing the satisfaction of a skilled doctor removing a lesion. He relentlessly stabbed down enemies one after another with his spear; everyone's movements seemed as sluggish as wooden stakes to him, easily within reach of his spear.

Killing more than a dozen people didn't evoke any negative emotions in him. Hearing their dying cries, he even felt a bloodthirsty pleasure. His thrusts became increasingly precise and sharp. The semi-congealed, viscous blood flowed down the spearhead onto his hand, where it was absorbed by the leather straps, preventing the spear from slipping out of his grasp.

Using the momentum of the horse, he thrust out with force, pinning an enemy wearing heavy armor to the ground. The spear shaft could no longer withstand such torment and broke off directly from a barely noticeable crack in the middle. He threw away the half of the spear shaft he was holding and reached for the iron staff at his waist.

Using the speed of a galloping horse, as he passed by one disoriented infantryman after another, the iron staff in his hand smashed their heads one by one like whack-a-mole, deforming and denting their heavy metal helmets. The sharp edges of the hammer ensured that it would not cut through the smooth surface of the armor, and the force of the shock was absorbed by the thick leather handle.

"Single-handed blunt weapon proficiency level: 256"

Swing speed bonus: 704

Swing damage bonus: 503

………………

The entire infantry square collapsed. The disoriented Hols fled in all directions, and even the execution of deserters by the supervisory team could not stop their rout. They even disrupted the surrounding formations, causing the soldiers who had been holding their ground to curse them loudly. Several adjacent infantry squares became chaotic.

The armored cavalrymen shouted and brandished their short hammers and long swords, driving the infantry blocking their way like herds of livestock. In just a few minutes, they had broken through three infantry squares as smoothly as a hot knife through butter. Hot blood throbbed in their veins, making them cheer loudly and boosting their confidence.

The enemy soldiers screamed in despair. Even though the terrible weapons and ferocious cavalry had not yet reached them, just looking at those people whose armor was covered in blood from afar made their legs tremble and they could not even hold their spears.

The area was filled with various noises of men shouting and horses neighing, but Xu Ning ignored them and kept urging his warhorse forward with his spurs, once again charging into the enemy's formation. The other cavalrymen quickly followed, and the panicked heavy infantry could not form a spear formation in time. They did not even know where these cavalrymen came from. It seemed that in the blink of an eye, the troops in front of them had collapsed and they had rushed in front of them.

In the blink of an eye, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and screams filled the air. Those who were knocked down were immediately trampled by countless feet and hooves, never to rise again. The infantry, their courage waning, scattered to the sides like sheep fleeing a tiger. Suddenly, there was no resistance in front of him. After his warhorse had galloped a few steps, he saw the archers standing in scattered formation in the open space…

"kill!!……"

P.S.: I couldn't find a suitable image of armored cavalry charging, so I used one of the Bretonnian Knights from Warhammer Fantasy.

Chapter 5 Striking the Enemy (1)

A tall, slender Holstein let out a sharp cry, crouched down, and then straightened his legs, leaping high into the air. His spear thrust straight at the fearsome, heavily armored enemy. The attack was lightning fast; the enemy's unexpected agility almost caught Xu Ning off guard. However, he still raised his shield, letting the sharp spear tip glide across the smooth surface. Then, like a nimble snake, he leaped upwards and pierced the enemy's cheek, knocking away several chainmail rings.

The impact sent a numbing pain through his cheek, his teeth seemed to loosen, but no blood flowed. His iron staff, propelled by the slow trot of his warhorse, swung out with the momentum. The Holsman hastily retracted his spear, attempting to block with the shaft. But the sharp edges of the modern alloy steel hammerhead offered no resistance to the wooden shaft. With a crisp snapping sound, the iron staff slammed irresistibly into the Holsman's arm. The arm guard, woven from slender plates, caved in and bent, the bones inside breaking with a numbing crack. The force of the blow knocked the Holsman to the ground. Before he could even rise, the next armored cavalryman, wielding his spear, thrust it downwards, easily pinning him to the ground.

An archer drew back his enormous bow, which was fitted with arrows as thick as a thumb. The arrows were pointed at Xu Ning at the front, the arrowheads gleaming with a blinding light. With a gentle release of his fingers, a sharp whistle accompanied a slender black shadow flying toward Xu Ning's thinly armored neck.

He immediately raised his shield, a shield made of thick oak covered with double-layered hardened cowhide, which could perfectly defend against both sword slashes and spear thrusts, but it was almost completely pierced by the heavy arrow in front of him. The thin, sharp arrowhead pierced through the entire shield by several centimeters, grazed the armor on his arm, and got stuck on it.

A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his back, only to be absorbed by his heavy clothes. He immediately turned his horse around and charged at the archer. As the archer drew his bow again, caught off guard, he smashed the archer's head with a blow. Just as the large bow, almost as tall as a man, was about to fall to the ground, he reached out and grabbed it, then hung it on his saddle.

The armored cavalry were wreaking havoc among the archers. At this distance, the archers rarely had a chance to draw their bows before the cavalry charged into their formation. This weapon was extremely powerful; even the armored cavalry in double layers of heavy armor could not withstand many blows. However, it took a very long time to draw the bow. Often, by the time the archers released their arrows, the cavalry had already moved on to the next location, and the heavy arrows could only drift out from behind them.

The armored cavalry, wielding longswords, chain maces, and iron clubs, could easily kill these lightly armored archers. Using the momentum of their slow-moving horses, they could even cleave them in two. Within minutes, most of the archers were dead or wounded; their mutilated corpses piled up on the ground, their stench-filled entrails trampled into the mud by the horses' hooves. The wounded but not yet dead soldiers suffered the most horrific fate; their screams were deafening.

The last squad of archers finally succumbed to the terrible casualties. They let out a pitiful wail and turned to flee back to the rest of the column. They desperately pushed their comrades aside, trying to make way for them, but all that awaited these deserters was a hail of swords and axes. They did not die under the cavalry's hooves, but were killed by their own soldiers.

The commotion in the surrounding area subsided immediately, and layer upon layer of heavy infantry began to converge on the area. They planted their spears in the ground and stood them upright, forming a dense array of spears. The sharp spear tips gleamed coldly in the rain, like a hedgehog with its feathers ruffled, exuding a chilling danger.

The area where the crossbowmen had stood was gradually compressed, and the mangled corpses were mercilessly trampled underfoot. A commander wearing a tightly fitted helmet watched grimly as the steel torrent raged at their center. His helmet had a streamlined design, with a brim extending from the back of his head, completely obscuring most of his face, leaving only a Y-shaped slit revealing his eyes and nose. The armor he wore was extremely tight and secure, a thick layer of densely woven chainmail covered by hardened leather armor, yet it did not feel bulky or heavy at all. Instead, it fit his body perfectly, giving him an agility that heavy armor should not possess.

The feathered flagpoles shifted patterns in the rain, each feather seemingly possessing its own life, rising and falling, opening and closing, arranging the colored and colorless sides to form symbols. Meanwhile, the heavy infantry converged towards the center, compressing the cavalry's space for acceleration and diminishing the initial power of the rampaging armored cavalry.

It seemed that it wouldn't be long before those terrifying cavalrymen were doomed... but the commander showed no positive emotion. On the contrary, his face remained gloomy, his thin lips were tightly pursed together, and his long, upturned eyes flashed with a sinister light.

Two heavily armored guards dragged a richly dressed man forward. This high-ranking Holstein was treated with utter disrespect; the guards escorted him like a fat pig being dragged from a sty, quickly covering his once-splendid clothes with a thick layer of mud and grime. They also frequently beat him with their halberds until he arrived here in a wretched state, looking just like a pig wallowing in the mud.

“T. Losfin… I don’t want to call you by your full name, because it would feel insulting.”

The commander turned around expressionlessly. He looked at the man who was lying on the ground, trembling all over. Suddenly, he raised his foot and kicked out hard, ripping open the man's nose and letting blood soak his toes. The man trembled all over and rolled on the ground, letting out miserable howls.

“Because of your foolish decision, you swine, we have lost all our archers and light cavalry… They could have been of much greater value, but because of you, they were easily crushed by human armored cavalry… I swear to Ephas, even skinning you alive wouldn’t quell my rage! Tell me, what should I do with you?”

The commander gritted his teeth and ripped off the man's helmet, revealing short flaxen hair and two long, pointed ears. He reached out and grabbed the slightly curly hair, then ripped it hard, causing the man to raise his head and reveal a face covered in snot, tears, and blood.

"My lord! My lord! Please have mercy... spare my life, I am willing to give everything to atone for my mistakes, I am willing to give up all my property and rights..."

The commander swung his hand forcefully, and with a scream, a clump of flaxen hair was already in his grasp. Blood began to seep rapidly from the man's scalp. He then reached out and grabbed the man's long, pointed ear, and with a slight force, he broke the cartilage and tore the flesh, pulling it into his hand with a spray of blood.

"Your stupidity has exceeded my imagination. Do you really think you can still keep your wealth, you disgusting creature like a maggot in rotting flesh?!"

The commander's hand reached for the hilt of his sword, but he suddenly stopped... because he had already thought of a better way to handle the situation:

“Guards! Strip this guy of his armor, give him a pitchfork, and send him to the front row! ... If you survive today, I will forgive your sins.”

As the Hols man cried out loudly, the guards ruthlessly stripped him of all his armor and clothes, leaving him only in a pair of white trousers. Just as his bare feet touched the muddy ground, a rusty pitchfork was thrown in front of him...

Chapter 6 Striking the Enemy (2)