Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

It's hard to say whether this situation is beneficial or detrimental... but for the current situation, this trend is becoming unfavorable—more and more soldiers are beginning to believe Turials's nonsense, and their doubts and anger will spread this sentiment, thus infecting more people like a disease and making the situation increasingly uncontrollable.

After all, the evidence presented to them was enough to sway many people's judgments—one was a legion commander who had followed the emperor since his humble beginnings, and who had even been a butcher in the past. His ability to get to where he was today proved his competence and loyalty.

The other is Ingersoll, who took over the command of the Praetorian Guard from the previous mad emperor Igulus, who was already deeply resentful and criticized by the people... Everything was against her. Outsiders would not know the emperor's trust in her, and would only become suspicious of her under such circumstances, guided by those with ulterior motives.

What's worse... seeing the thief's confident demeanor, she couldn't help but worry about the emperor's safety... After all, Turiars seemed too certain, and even though she had just met the emperor, she couldn't help but feel suspicious, and a sense of anxiety began to spread in her heart.

Driven by this emotion, while exchanging words with Turiars, she couldn't help but irritably hammer the stone bricks under her feet with her long axe. The crisp clanging sound was like the drumbeats of war, fueling the anger in her heart.

But although this anger burned fiercely and for a long time, it did not truly affect her reason... Ingersoll knew her duty very well; anger would never be a distraction for her, but would only make her killing intent colder and purer, like a whetstone sharpening a blade.

Before receiving news from inside the palace, she needed to stabilize the situation. Even if things deteriorated to the worst possible point, with all the soldiers of the capital's garrison being bewitched by Turiars and launching an attack on the imperial city, she would firmly keep them outside the city walls and not allow anyone who could threaten the emperor to set foot in the palace.

"The situation is beyond saving, my soldiers! We have nowhere to retreat!"

Turials began his performance again. Seeing that the soldiers were becoming increasingly agitated, he finally revealed his true intentions, drawing his longsword and pointing it directly at the emperor's palace.

“From the moment we arrived here, we had no other choice! We can no longer retreat! If we do not achieve victory and a decisive victory tonight, we will become traitors in their eyes tomorrow! We will be unable to defend ourselves, and the entire legion will face a great purge. Our only chance is tonight to expose their actions completely! Only tonight can we avenge His Majesty and make them receive the punishment they deserve.”

"I assure you, soldiers! I assure you! Follow in my footsteps, we are going to do something just, we are going to carry out righteous revenge, we are going to vent the righteous rage!"

"You have gained far more than what you have now! We will become the enforcers and saviors of the law! Now I beg you to carry out the legion commander's order one last time, and follow my blade forward!!"

The trusted confidants and officers who had been planted among the soldiers immediately began to cheer loudly, continuing to fan the flames and fuel the soldiers' emotions, causing something intense, powerful, yet extremely dangerous to grow stronger. Gradually, someone spoke up first, and others began to echo and cheer.

At first, such calls were scattered, but then they quickly became more frequent and intense at an alarming pace. Soldiers are the kind of people who are best at obeying orders, and they are already used to following commands. Under such incitement, the situation became completely out of control.

The sky seemed to tremble at the soldiers' shouts, the earth shook before them, rooftops collided, nesting birds flew away in panic, and the sounds of armor, swords, hammers, and axes scraping together were dangerously loud.

The situation is now completely out of control. The capital garrison is now a fully mobilized war machine. They have also received rigorous training, are equipped with the best weapons, and are currently in high spirits.

Once the Legion's war machine is set in motion, it is bound to cause destruction and bloodshed... What's more, the one operating this machine now is a person with ill intentions, and it is in the most important heart of the Empire, the capital... Even the most foolish person can imagine the terrible consequences they will cause.

Turias slowly advanced his longsword, its sharp blade gleaming with the cold light of the moon, while countless footsteps behind him followed him forward, as if about to step into an abyss.

“Tell me, who are you seeking revenge for, Turials?”

The world fell silent. The legion, which had been raging and clamoring just moments before, instantly transformed into a frozen sea of ​​iron. Tullils, who had been filled with grief and indignation, looked like a statue cast in brass. Every detail revealed stiffness and shock.

On the towering marble walls, amidst the sculpted battlements, the imperial supreme's golden laurel wreath gleamed, his magnificent purple robes almost blinding him, and the scepter in his hand seemed to gleam with a cold, icy light, eagerly attempting to smash and tear something apart.

But what terrified him most was the emperor's silver hair and those eyes like lava under the moonlight—it was the real Empress Claudius!

"Answer my question, Turials, for whom are you seeking revenge? How come I didn't know I was dead? I even forgot the secret decree I gave you before I died?!"

The emperor's scepter struck the stone bricks of the city wall with a heavy thud, the clear sound carrying far like the ringing of a great bell. Turiars shuddered violently at the sound, his face stiffening and contorting in pain...

He was undoubtedly in dire straits… The soldiers behind him were staring at his retreating figure with fear and anger—the emperor was still alive, proving that everything he had said before was a lie! And a lie that the emperor himself denied; he was the real traitor!!

Their anger was self-evident, but their fear was equally palpable... If their legion commander was the real traitor, then what did their midnight siege of the palace mean?! The moment the emperor appeared and exposed this lie, they lost their last reason for doing so, and were now completely inextricably linked to this damned man!

The laws of the empire are the foundation of this nation, sacred and inviolable. They have become the most heinous criminals in the law—those who intend to overthrow the country, attack the palace, and murder the emperor!

Even the veterans in the legion would feel despair just thinking about it.

They suddenly realized that everything from the past was about to slip through their fingers... their respected status, their comfortable and easy life, even the preferential treatment they gave to their parents and children—all of it was about to leave them, simply because they had committed such a crime.

After the fear came a deep-seated hatred that was enough to grind one's teeth. For a moment, even the officers could not suppress it. Many soldiers even tried to rush out of the formation to grab the man who had just been their legion commander and tear him apart and eat his flesh and bones right there! Even if they did that, it would not be enough to quell the hatred in their hearts.

Faced with such a terrible predicament, most ambitious people would be utterly desperate. But Turials had already recovered from his shock. Under the emperor's cold and composed gaze, his lips twitched, then suddenly he grinned, revealing a very strange smile, and burst into unrestrained laughter, looking like a madman who had been hit hard on the head.

His almost maniacal laughter actually calmed the people around him down. Even the soldiers who had just tried to tear him apart stopped, looking on with some confusion, wondering what he was up to.

After a dozen or so breaths, before the others' patience ran out, he finally stopped laughing. He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, turned around, but still couldn't suppress the smirk on his face, and arrogantly spread his arms, facing the army behind him:

“I must confess to you, soldiers, I have deceived you… Most of what I just said was fabricated, and I gathered you here for ulterior motives, but not everything I said was false.”

He didn't seem flustered at all; on the contrary, he exuded a sense of confidence and ease.

"At least one thing I said was right... that is, you have nowhere to retreat! I believe many of you have already figured it out yourself. As long as you follow me and surround the palace at night, as long as you do this, it means you can't get away with it."

"Yes, Her Majesty is indeed still alive, something even I didn't expect... But you can guess whether she will forgive those of you whom I have ruled for years and who did this tonight? No, she absolutely will not. Our Her Majesty is an excellent emperor, and an excellent emperor would not leave himself with such a future threat!"

"Sooner or later you will be cleansed, arrested, transferred, and enslaved... And if you want to escape this fate, you have only one choice from the beginning! That is to follow me and continue to do this until we succeed! Only then will your current crimes become insignificant."

"This is not something I can do alone. Right now, three legions are approaching this city. This city will surely fall into our control today. So, make a choice: will you gamble that the emperor will forgive you for what you have done, or will you continue to follow me?"

Turials' eyes gleamed with ambition and determination, burning like flames in a lamplight... No one had ever seen him like this before. This man had always been a conservative and reliable figure; no one had ever seen him so consumed by the fire of ambition, no one...

The emperor sighed softly... She knew what the soldiers of the garrison were worried about—they were not attracted by the man's ambition, but simply feared the punishment of the law, simply feared what a controlling emperor would do to them.

This has happened countless times in the empire's past history, and their concerns are not unfounded... Neither the tyrannical nor the wise emperors of the past would tolerate such things, especially when it truly threatens their lives.

And now, Turials is using this to his advantage, to force the garrison soldiers to join him, to force the city's most powerful armed force to remain loyal to him, so that he can do whatever he wants.

The emperor had to admit that he might indeed succeed... of course, only possibly...

At the same moment the emperor smiled, a strange change occurred below.

Whoosh! Sizzle!

ah!!--

Turials suddenly cried out in pain and fell to the ground, rolling off his saddle. A long black arrow pierced through his knee, entering from the unprotected gap behind him and exiting from behind his knee. The incredibly accurate arrow destroyed his ability to move.

Along with the screams, the sound of footsteps gradually became denser and clearer on the surrounding streets. Then, a lithe, somewhat short figure nimbly climbed down from a nearby building and slung a large bow, as long as his height, over his back... Clearly, the arrow had been shot from that bow.

The legionary soldiers, who were still maintaining their formation, turned around in surprise. Their formation was undulating like waves, and they had almost forgotten to leave enough space between each other to move around. Many of them were crowding together.

And amidst the gaze of tens of thousands of people, amidst the countless footsteps and the clash of armor, amidst the hesitant and surprised hearts of the masses, a magnificent black double-headed eagle banner flashed out from the street corner, standing proudly amidst the throngs of armored soldiers. The golden double-headed eagle at the top caught the first rays of sunlight that were about to end in the early morning, so dazzling that it was almost impossible to look directly at it.

At the very front of them, those riding tall warhorses, wearing winged helmets and gilded steel armor, calmly advanced, fearlessly facing the vast army.

"...It's General Tersolius!"

Containing unimaginably complex emotions, it's unclear who first shouted that name, but soon enough, a cacophony of voices erupted, enough to shake the entire street...

rest for a day.

Yesterday, a sudden downpour occurred in the middle of the night. The author was lying on a straw mat without warning and woke up this morning feeling unwell... Not only was he dizzy and lightheaded, but his forehead also started to feel hot, and his head would ache if he turned it even slightly. Therefore, he will be taking a break from updating for a day and will take some medicine to recover.

Same as always, regular updates will resume tomorrow (||?_?)

446 Failed at the last minute (8)

Some people seem like miracles just by appearing... This phrase couldn't be more fitting to describe the current situation. The fact that no one in the entire capital knew of Tersolius's appearance, except for a select few, only added to the incredible, almost divine, aura surrounding the scene.

The moment the magnificent double-headed eagle banner appeared at the street corner, it caught the first rays of morning light from the sky. The ornate golden decorations on it became so bright they were almost blinding, and the person riding out in this light no longer looked like an ordinary person.

Although the magnificent heavy armor was still exquisite and sturdy, the plates were marked with traces of knife cuts, axe strokes, spear thrusts, and arrow wounds. Each mark faintly exuded the stench of blood, adding to the armor's majesty, and each defect increased the coldness of the steel.

The fur stripped from the white lion covered his shoulders and elbows, each hair shimmering with an unusual crystalline translucence, as if sculpted from winter ice and snow, spreading every ray of light into a gentle halo.

The winged helmet, which had almost become his trademark, was the most eye-catching feature. The tips of the feathers on one side of the outstretched wings were broken off, and the intricately carved gold visor was tightly closed, obscuring his face. But almost everyone knew who he was, and no one doubted it.

Thus, Thesolius rode straight into the dense army formation without flinching or dodging. Before he even reached them, the officers of the phalanx hastily ordered their soldiers to clear the way, allowing the dense armor and spears and swords to part like a tide before him. No one dared to delay, and he passed through the thick formation unimpeded, as if using a red-hot iron blade to cut through snow.

For a moment, the whole world seemed to fall silent. The only sound in the vast square in front of the imperial palace was the crisp sound of his warhorse's hooves pounding on the ground. His scale armor leg skirt shimmered like a dragon as he moved. His fingers, encased in exquisite armor plates, unconsciously tugged at the reins, keeping his warhorse in a straight line through subconscious movements.

With each step he took, the oppressive aura emanating from him intensified. This feeling was intangible and invisible, but when you realized that the eyes of tens of thousands of people were focused on him, and when you realized just how much bloodshed this person had once commanded, your breathing would change with his gaze, and your heartbeat would rise and fall with his every move.

He was undoubtedly a general who could make the whole world tremble, and whose will could shake the earth. When such a person rode towards him in this situation, how many people could remain calm?

Turials initially appeared somewhat flustered, partly due to the injury to his leg, but mostly because of the figure slowly approaching him on a tall horse. The red warhorse's hooves felt as if they were pressing down on his heart, not on the stone pavement, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

But then, as the other party drew closer, and he saw clearly the bloodstains on the other's armor and the muddy hooves of the warhorse, he completely relaxed. He leaned back, supporting himself on his elbows, and looked at the man on horseback with a half-smile.

“It’s been a long time, Turials. I wonder if you expected that our reunion would be like this.”

The horse's hooves lightly stomped four times on the ground before coming to a steady stop, perfectly positioned so that Teresolus could look down directly at the other's face, looking down at him from a height that almost completely blocked out the cold morning sun.

Turials's face stiffened for a moment, but then he surprisingly smiled with relief.

"It's been a long time, Lord Tersolius. I still remember your high spirits when I greeted the general at the city gate last time. At that time, you had just conquered the entire East, and the whole empire was singing your praises. The legion's monument was carved in the most magnificent and splendid way... I remember that the monument was just like you now, blocking out all the sunlight."

"You have quite the composure, Turials... Can you tell me why you can remain so calm at this moment? My appearance means that your decades-long ambitions have been completely thwarted. I believe that even the most resilient person should feel lost for a while. To be able to deceive all of us, you must have paid a heavy price."

Tersolius showed no intention of dismounting, maintaining a superior posture throughout, and even during the conversation, he did not lower his head. However, no one found this to be amiss, as he had already gained the highest right to speak here, and after all, the emperor would not interrupt him at this moment.

"...Well, the reason is simple...the most important one is that I'm not truly in a desperate situation...Do you really think I would risk my life to come to the palace in person?"

Tersolius frowned, then suddenly bent down and grabbed Turias's face. The move was so decisive and ruthless that it almost seemed as if he were holding a sharp sword and about to disembowel the man in public.

Even Turias hadn't anticipated this, as Tersolius's iron gauntlet grabbed his cheek, and with a violent tearing motion, screams and the sound of tearing filled the air. A large, soft mass covered in hair was ripped into his hand.

Gasps of surprise erupted around them like raindrops. Some soldiers nearby saw it clearly and therefore doubted their own eyes. What appeared before them was not Turials's face, but a "smooth" face...

How can one describe such a face? No eyebrows, no eyelashes. No beard, no hair whatsoever, the entire face is smooth, even the nose is flat with two holes like a fish's. There are almost no protruding parts on the face, every corner appears rounded.

Tersolius kneaded the soft, gelatinous substance in his hand, then tossed it to the ground with a flick of his wrist, and nodded slightly.

"That makes sense now. So, who are you?"

The guy with the unsettlingly smooth face smiled, and the muscles in his entire face tensed up in a thin, almost slender way.

"That's not important, but I'm a lot like him, aren't I?"

"It does seem so, at least you managed to fool me just now, but what are you so happy about?"

"Ah, am I joyful?"

“Indeed, your face is very well done, and I know this guy Turials well enough.”

"Turials" shook his head somewhat helplessly:

"I didn't expect to reveal my weakness here... But it doesn't matter. After all, taking your life is an unimaginable honor for me. How could I not be overjoyed to have the opportunity to make such a contribution to the coming of the Lord of All Wisdom? I couldn't suppress it after all. I hope you can understand."

Tesorius remained unmoved, merely tapping lightly on the saddle seat with his fingers:

"Oh?...Do you still think you can threaten me in your current state? Or have you made additional preparations elsewhere?"

The man lying on the ground could no longer contain his joy, and he laughed a few times with a twisted smile:

"Can't you see it now?!"

boom! ! !

Suddenly, the paving stones beneath the warhorse's hooves shattered, and the marble, meticulously polished by craftsmen, turned into a shower of fragments and dust. A massive, blood-stained hook emerged from the cracks, severing the saddle straps without hindrance and plunging deep into the warhorse's belly, gushing out scalding blood like a waterfall.

The warhorse's mournful neighing rang out along with a huge scream. "Turiars" couldn't help but show an expression of extreme excitement, as if he could already see the scene of the man being torn apart by that terrible hook blade, armor and all. He clenched his teeth and fingers in extreme excitement, eagerly anticipating that scene to come into view.

The massive hook, stained with blood, resembled a crab's pincer, except instead of barbed claws, it had a curved, concave blade a hand's thickness. It easily inflicted a fatal wound on the warhorse, causing its bloody entrails to spill out of the abdominal cavity in a clumped mass... But just as the massive hook was about to strike Tersolius's leg, he nimbly freed his feet from the stirrups, flipping forward and leaping off the saddle, narrowly avoiding the heavy, sharp blade almost in mid-air.

Disappointment flashed across Turiars' face, but it was quickly followed by undisguised anticipation. He no longer cared about his own life or death; now, the only thing he cared about was whether he could accomplish this enormous goal.

As the iron boots slammed into the ground, Tersolius swiftly took two steps back, his ornate saber already drawn the instant he turned, like a dragonfly fluttering its wings in mid-air.

The thing hidden in the square's sewers was no longer suppressed. The bloody limbs slowly retracted, while the dead warhorse blocking the way was violently pushed aside by unimaginable force. The deformed, swollen creature broke through the paving stones and exposed itself to the sunlight.

In that instant, countless people doubted their eyes. Terrified shouts and wavering could be heard everywhere in the once-orderly military formation. Some people almost lost their grip on their weapons due to the visual shock of that moment.

Emerging from the sewers was a deformed, twisted monster with skin as pale and smooth as a helmet. It was covered with stitches of all sizes, and its bulging, muscular body was held together in a brutal and grotesque manner. Its monstrous bones resembled a table frame cobbled together by a clumsy carpenter. Only its massive right arm and its thin head, almost fused to its chest, were barely visible.

The massive left arm had just torn open the warhorse's belly, with an iron frame at the end that went deep into the bone marrow, firmly fixing the huge hook blade to it. The lower body was a cylindrical shape like a worm, except that the tentacles that made it crawl were all human hands covered in wear and tear, with complexly spliced ​​muscles providing them with power.

At this moment, the blood of the warhorse had stained it crimson, and the huge blade, which was more than a man tall, and the barbed chains connected to the other short arm were already crashing down on Tersolius, determined to make him bleed on the spot.

"Yes, run! Turn around and run for your lives now, and expose your ugly side!"—Turials was practically screaming madly in his mind. He was impatient, almost obsessed, to see the Imperial Commander make a fool of himself before him... No matter how these mortals struggled or how foolish they were, they could not ultimately fight against intelligent creations! In the end, they could only struggle to survive like maggots!

Of course, turning around and running away would also lead to certain death—those specially designed hooves were enough to give this behemoth a mobility that was completely inconsistent with its appearance. Now that it had lost its warhorse, Tersolius had nowhere to escape!

The immense blade and barbed chains possess enough power to shatter stone tablets and grind a person into a bloody pulp with ease. Even the iron armor that had protected him countless times on the battlefield was of no use; he would only become a pile of iron fragments mixed in with the bloody pulp. For ordinary people, this would be a hopeless situation with no way out in the blink of an eye.

But in an instant, facing this terrifyingly powerful attack, Tersolius merely took a step back, as if dodging a leaf falling from above. The massive blade and chains grazed his toes and slammed him to the floor. The flying shards of stone left insignificant scratches on his armor, unable to harm him in the slightest.

The next moment, under the quiet gaze of the sun, his iron boots stepped onto the broad blade, and following the monster's subconscious action of retracting its weapon, he used the monster's monstrous strength to approach the ugly head.

The monster reacted quickly. The blade that was about to be withdrawn instinctively swept upwards, but he had already nimbly turned in mid-air and jumped onto the guy's broad, bulky back. Two arrows that shot from a distance grazed his skirt armor and pierced the monster's elbow joints, causing a terrible bluish-green color to spread rapidly.

With the composure of slaughtering a pig or a sheep, Tersolius plunged his saber into the monster's pale, stitched nape, precisely avoiding the bone and piercing through the flesh, exiting from the jaw. He then took a step forward and landed on the ground, the blade still firmly in his hand as he fell, its sharp edge slicing around half the monster's head. When he pulled it out, it was already covered in thick blood.

Finally, to the incredulous gaze of "Turials," Tersolius turned and calmly wiped the blood from his blade across the massive, crashing corpse. At this moment, he hadn't even taken his twelfth breath...

447 The Rebels (1)

"You!—You! How could you possibly be like this!?"

With an expression that could only be described as distorted, "Turials" practically choked out the words. He simply couldn't comprehend what was happening before his eyes, almost having the illusion that he was still dreaming. His expression was so stupid it was laughable—of course, this was largely due to his ridiculously smooth face.

The massive body that fell was no smaller than a strong ox, and at this moment it was convulsing on the ground like an ox whose throat had been cut, smashing stone dust and debris into the air.

Thick blood was flowing from the severed neck, initially bright red, then gradually darkening until it turned into a strange, dark green. The monster's once strong muscles had also turned white and swollen, as if they had begun to rot and expand in just a few breaths.