Chapter 389: Chapter 371: Battle of Black Mountain (End)
What is that?
This isn’t just the confusion of Nidesar alone, but the confusion of all the Nikosaks.
But soon, their confusion vanished along with their lives.
"Praise the Holy Wind!"
The command shouted countless times emerged from Horn’s mouth this time. His face turned pale as he pulled the winding key from the leather gear cannon.
The gear spun rapidly on the gear shaft, vibrating metal and airflow simultaneously, producing a low humming sound.
The next second, everyone’s ears went silent, as a huge noise seemed to drown out all other sounds.
The 80mm caliber leather gear cannon roared deafeningly as two blasts of iron pellets spread outward, followed by the iron pellets sprayed by twenty Hand Cannon Cultivators.
Together, they formed a swiftly advancing black mist, and those Nikosaks in the assault charge had no time to react before they sensed the momentary darkening of the previously clear sky.
Then a warm sensation hit their chests, their bodies uncontrollably flew upward and, after rolling several times upon hitting the ground, the piercing pains etched into their nerves finally reached their brains.
Dozens of knights at the front line fell simultaneously, their bodies filled with dense holes.
Severed limbs and fingers, scattering blood, scapula wrapped in flesh, even half a face splashed through the air.
In the storm composed of lead and iron pellets, the previously shouting Nikosaks halted all actions.
Blood splattered across their faces, helmets murmured with dripping noise, the blood shower from their comrades.
Even the Nikosaks, known for their bravery, couldn’t hold back. This wave inflicted injuries on forty or fifty of them, and they even had Hand Cannon Cultivators—there’s no point in fighting anymore.
A number of Nikosaks began rotating to flee without Nidesar’s orders.
Some ran left, some right; the entire large formation of Nidesar bubbled like a boiling kettle.
In the cacophony of shouts, Mengse’s "Second Imperial Guard Army, quick march forward attack!" was so clear.
At the rear, ten large-caliber guns slowly appeared, and whenever a Nikosak tried to regroup the other knights, they’d immediately be focused by fire from the guns.
Within a hundred-meter range, the power and precision of large-caliber guns were terrifyingly high, frequently piercing overly prominent Nikosaks’ chests.
Amidst the chaotic troops, despite Nidesar’s efforts to reorganize the army, chaos couldn’t be contained—only a small group of twenty to thirty remained around him.
Looking at the panic-stricken black-skinned knights, Nidesar even doubted if he was dreaming. He never thought these elite knights would experience camp panic.
"Rally, rally together." No matter how loudly he shouted or what conditions he offered, he couldn’t stop the chaos.
Misfortunes never come singly, just as chaos ensued, Jeanne led the Holy Gun Cavalry, arriving at the perfect moment, adding another burden to the already overwhelmed camel.
Could it really end here? Unprecedented despair surfaced in Nidesar’s eyes.
He pulled out a potion from his pocket; the purple-black viscous liquid made him change color.
Unlike most knights, Nidesar seldom used potions on the battlefield.
He carried only two bottles of potion: one was the spider potion that enhanced reaction speed, which he had just consumed.
But the second and most critical life-saving potion, he never thought he would have to use it here.
Just using it, he might have no place of peace in the Empire afterward, forced to return to his former homeland.
While hesitating, increasingly clear shouting and killing sounds reached his ears.
Not far away, on the side of the Imperial Guard, Zelaken led over a thousand last guards charging over from the central army.
Great! Nidesar couldn’t restrain himself from wanting to madly kiss Zelaken’s cheek right now.
"Let’s go meet up with Zelaken!"
Nidesar’s actions quickly caught Jeanne’s attention, instructing Kolebo to command the situation while Jeanne led dozens of Holy Gun Cavalry toward Nidesar and his men.
"Damn it, damn it, hurry, hurry!" Nidesar spared no care for horsepower, frantically urging his warhorse forward.
Lead bullets fired from the large-caliber guns flew past, as warmth and pain spread from Nidesar’s flank and shoulder.
He couldn’t ascertain if it was pierced through or just a minor injury; he could no longer differentiate.
Blood flowed from his gums, his most loyal Tribal Warriors kept falling next to him, while the central infantry aiding him grew increasingly clear.
This was the last chance!
A fierce wind passed through his collar and sleeves, Nidesar raised his head, progressing at full speed—if only he could reach there, just there...
"Boom—"
The sky-lit flames illuminated Nidesar’s face as four scorching fireballs exploded in the infantry formation.
Fierce flames engulfed the infantrymen, and behind them, arrows fell like they cost nothing.
Within the crackling flames, Hakuto led the Left Wing Army with orderly strides, appearing beside Zelaken’s army.
Nidesar’s mad dash slowed down, his body straightened up, no longer concerning himself with possible stray bullets and the terrifying large-caliber guns.
He glanced left toward the Salvation Army’s advance, right at the crumbling infantry formation, while far off Domenico led the Kush Knights and others desperately fleeing in the wheat fields.
Nidesar’s soul seemed to detach from his body; he didn’t even know how to win.
He led an army of tens of thousands, yet lost.
Shouldn’t have attacked from the swamps, shouldn’t have promised the nobles a march north, shouldn’t have mingled in this damn war...
But regardless of Nidesar’s regrets, time wouldn’t rewind.
Visibly, within seconds, Nidesar seemed to age several years, sitting stupefied on his horse like an old man on the brink of death.
But perhaps recalling something, he suddenly lowered his head, taking out another potion from his pocket.
The potion sealed in sturdy crystal bottles had been there who knows how many years, even the cork had become old and moldy.
It’s time, Nidesar seemed determined, gritted his teeth, and drank the viscous blood.
Around him, other Nikosaks watched tensely; this potion was the bottom-line potion of the fearsome knight.
According to Nidesar’s habit of always leaving himself with an escape route, perhaps, just perhaps he could lead them to carve out a bloody path again.
After consuming the potion, Nidesar’s eyes rapidly filled with blood, and his muscles swelled like a balloon.
Veins surfaced on his arms and cheeks; the terrifying aura made the Holy Gun Cavalry pursuing him instinctively slow their pace.
"Ah—"
But surprisingly to everyone, after his body swelled, Nidesar suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon even faster.
In the dazed eyes of other Nikosaks, black blood poured from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears.
"Ah—"
With a wretched cry, Nidesar slid off his horse, crashing heavily onto the ground.
In everyone’s silent and bewildered gaze, his calf muscle twitched once before he completely lost consciousness.