Free Web NovelLouis raised his right hand, his gesture concise and decisive: "Continue, prepare for the second phase."
"Yes!" The flag bearer immediately raised the signal flag high, waving his arms several times with clean, sharp movements.
The battle flag signaled the attack.
Below the highland, the fire line unit, which had been ambushed for a long time, instantly moved.
"Orders received! Fire line advance!"
The Knight Captain roared in a low voice, his armor clanking heavily in the night. He shook the battle blade in his hand, and his warhorse leaped forward, leading the Elite Knights behind him in a sudden charge.
Heavy torches were raised high, and then boiling hot oil was poured out.
Flames instantly engulfed the front line, and the wall of fire, as if alive, roared and surged, cutting the entire position into several sections.
The Worm-Eaten Household let out twisted, hoarse screams like wild beasts the moment the flames licked their limbs.
But the next moment, even with half their bodies charred, they still crawled and lunged, as if burning was just another force driving them forward.
The Elite Knight Captain spurred his horse forward, his blue cape stained with gray-black sparks, and coldly ordered: "Brier, you take the left flank, the rest follow me to the right. Don't let them break through the fire line!"
"Understood!"
The Elite Knights of the North were deployed.
They were veterans who had traversed mountains of corpses and seas of blood, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» piercing the throats of magical beasts in the ice and snow. Each one could fight three enemies.
But this time, the enemy was not human.
"Ah ah ah ah! Get away!"
A Knight swung his sword, severing the head of an Worm-Eaten Household corpse, but the enemy, even in its dying moments, was filled with madness. Its severed arm still crawled up his leg armor, biting down hard and refusing to let go.
"Sean! Sean, you!"
Another Knight rushed over and slapped the arm away, but that Knight had already fallen, blood gushing from his neck guard, instantly staining his gray-white armor crimson.
The fire line continued to advance, the wall of fire twisting like a giant serpent, sealing off sections of the Worm-Eaten Household.
However, some Elite Knights were dragged into the flames during the chaotic battle, perishing with the enemy.
"Wait—that's—Benito?!"
A cry of alarm caused several Knights to lose focus for a moment. That figure had once been their comrade, laughing and drinking with them, sleeping in the same tent, and swearing to look out for each other on the battlefield.
Now, his body was rotten, his pupils glowed green, and he spewed shrill screams from his mouth, dragging a string of tentacle-like parasitic nerves behind him.
"He—is no longer human."
"Strike him down!"
Benito lunged forward, roaring, his eyes devoid of human emotion.
His comrades, amidst flames and tears, worked together to surround and kill him, finally striking down their former friend in the blaze.
The moment his head hit the ground, he seemed to still utter indistinct syllables.
Flames rolled, smoke obscured the sky, and the wall of fire, like a cage, trapped the Worm-Eaten Household corpses and cut off their routes.
Higher-tier Worm-Eaten Household corpses attempting to reinforce from the other side surged forward but were forced back by the intense heat, rolling and struggling in the scorching heat, turning into charred bones.
At the very front of the fire line, the Knights of the containment unit desperately held back any stragglers attempting to break through.
Longswords formed a wall, flesh formed a barrier; even if one fell, another took his place.
"As long as the wall of fire holds, we can suppress them!"
A Knight, covered in blood, gritted his teeth and shouted.
Duke Edmund stood on the high ground, gazing at the battle surging like a tide.
His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, a rare look of solemnity in his eyes.
"—So that's it," he murmured. "This isn't a chaotic battle; this is—a game of chess. Louis—this is simply pushing the enemy step by step onto a path of no return."
The fire continued to spread, and the Worm-Eaten Household corpses tried to break through but were sealed off by the wall of fire.
Higher-tier Worm-Eaten Household corpses tried to turn back to reinforce but were repelled by the back-burning heat wave.
The entire battlefield seemed to be completely locked down by a giant net of fire.
"It's done," the Knight Captain said, standing amidst the smoke and fire, looking at the severed Worm-Eaten Household in front of him. "We've cut off their roots, preventing them from moving collectively or returning to the broodmother."
"But this is not the end." He looked further away, at the silent area at the end of the wall of fire.
That was the target of the assault unit.
"Now, it's time for that young Lord to unleash his true killing blow."
Thick smoke obscured the sun, and the battlefield surged with flames like a tide.
The Elite Knights, with blood and fire, tore open an unhealable rift in the enemy's formation, winning the sole and crucial window for the most fatal blow—the assault unit's surprise attack.
Amidst the rolling smoke, Louis stood on the hillside, his cape fluttering fiercely, the firelight dancing in his eyes.
He saw the rift on the battlefield finally take shape.
The Worm-Eaten Household corpses were torn apart by the fire line, their command structure completely severed, and the enemy formation wailed like beasts, falling into leaderless chaos.
"Now," he whispered, a Cold Fang-like curve on his lips.
"Raise the flag—commence assault."
The flag bearer raised the battle flag high and swung it fiercely, the banner arcing through the rolling smoke!
The assault signal had been given.
On the distant fire line, Lambert suddenly turned and saw the familiar banner rising from the sea of fire.
His mouth moved under his faceplate, his voice like tearing metal: "Now."
The assault unit moved out!
Heavy armor clanked, footsteps like thunder.
Everyone knew that they were treading a bloody path that allowed no hesitation.
They charged into the inferno woven from fire and corpses, like a sharp blade forged by battle intent, heading straight for the core of the insect nest without deviation.
The raging fire roared like a wild beast behind them, waves of fire howling and stirring up scorching winds, the smell of burning assaulting them, almost suffocating them.
Charred Worm-Eaten Household corpses lay piled up haphazardly, some still twitching slightly, others with mouths open as if chewing on death.
"Clear the way!" Lambert commanded.
A dark shadow flashed by; a surviving Worm-Eaten Household, just as it leaped into the air, was impaled through its eye socket by a thin sword, and its head was crushed by a heavy armored soldier's foot during its struggle.
"Three o'clock left, fast approach!"
Another Knight, hearing this, immediately drew his blade with a backhand, a cold gleam flashed, and an insect shadow was severed in response, its severed limbs flung into the flames, instantly carbonizing.
Advance further!
The remaining Worm-Eaten Household corpses lunged from the shadows, like sharks drawn by blood, continuously pouncing, but all were crushed by the symphony of iron and fire.
A bottle of fire fluid arced through the air, landing amidst a group of squirming Worm-Eaten Household corpses.
"Ignite."
Flames exploded with a roar, and the Worm-Eaten Household shrieked as they rolled in the fire, their struggling limbs beating the ground, as if playing music for hell.
Their skin burst, body fluids gushed, and the air was filled with a scorching stench.
But the assault unit ignored these, pressing forward relentlessly.
Not because they were fearless, but because they knew they were the sharpest blade, meant only to stab into the enemy's heart.
Finally, they stepped into the depths of the insect nest.
The air was like congealed mucus, and breathing became heavy.
The flames could not fully illuminate the path ahead; light in this area seemed to be swallowed by some invisible substance, barely able to illuminate a few steps ahead.
The walls were not stone, nor earth, but some dark red, damp, warm substance.
Like the internal organs of a giant beast, gently pulsating, as if slowly breathing.
Irregular folds undulated around them, faintly revealing flowing shadows and—human faces.
That was not an illusion, but truly appearing on the surface of the 'flesh wall,' blurred, distorted, and even familiar.
Eyes closed, lips 蠕動, as if whispering softly.
The next moment, they opened their eyes and looked at the Knights.
"Did you see it?" a Knight suddenly whispered, his voice trembling. "That's... my brother's face."
"Shut up!" Lambert roared in a deep voice, cutting off the words. "Everyone, be aware! The insect nest can manipulate your perceptions! Don't look! Don't listen!"
But how could humans completely seal off their senses?
Some heard their mothers calling them home, some heard their comrades' dying words.
And some even heard the sound of their own death, low and dry, calling their names.
"Charge forward, don't look back," Lambert repeated, his tone icy.
Ahead was the heart of the insect nest.
A colossal hollow cavity suddenly appeared, like a temple that should not exist in the human world.
The inner walls of the cavity were covered with soft tentacles and spiral-shaped 'incubation layers,' with thousands of insect eggs floating within, like bubbles in putrid fluid.
Suspended in the center of the cavity was the 'sac core.'
It did not belong to this world.
The translucent biological structure pulsed gently, like a heart, or like the unopened eye of some ancient deity.
With each pulse, the surrounding walls gently throbbed, breathing, beating, resonating—
The entire insect nest seemed to be an extension of this sac core.
"It's it," the thrower said softly.
His voice seemed to be pressed to the back of his throat, an instinctive aversion and fear preventing him from speaking loudly.
Then "it" opened its eyes.
A hole slowly split open in the center of the sac, revealing the churning, ghostly red light within.
That was not light, but a pure form of mental pollution, like a pupil staring, like hell opening its gaping maw.
The Knights held their breath for a moment.
Some people's knees trembled, some bodies stiffened, sweat soaking their undershirts.
But no one retreated.
Their armor was scorching hot, their hearts pounded violently, their breathing was heavy like hammers, yet they still raised their weapons, lowered their bodies, and charged forward.
They were the guardians of the Red Tide Territory, the only sharp blades that could pierce through the chaos amidst the burning.
"Red Platinum Magic Bomb—Fire!" Lambert's command thundered.
The assault team did not hesitate for a moment.
Boom!
Dozens of Red Platinum Magic Bombs simultaneously sliced through the air, trailing long, dazzling fiery streaks, accurately shooting towards the sac.
"Retreat!" Lambert roared. No one waited for their results; the next second, everyone had already turned and retreated at full speed!
They didn't need to confirm a hit; just getting close was enough.
A series of explosions erupted behind them!
The high temperature descended like a scorching sun, and the Magic Bomb shockwave, like an invisible hammer, shattered the entire cavity's structure from its foundation.
Blazing flames roared, piercing through the incubation layer, igniting, carbonizing, and consuming the wriggling egg sacs and soft parasitic tubes into a cloud of fire!
The sac twisted and struggled in the bursting firelight, and dozens of black tentacles dangled from the top of the cavity, frantically trying to intercept the Red Platinum Magic Bombs.
But they couldn't last even a second in the high temperature, like dry grass touching the flames of purgatory, igniting instantly and charring in moments.
That massive "heart-like" structure seemed to sense its destruction.
It trembled, convulsed, and terror and hatred appeared in its wide-open "eyes," before it completely collapsed amidst the flames and tremors.
Like a beast before its demise, the Worm-Eaten Household fell into a frenzy at the moment of death.
The remaining Worm-Eaten Household, driven by some unknown will, roared and charged like rabid dogs, self-destructing, biting, and burning, transforming themselves into a final sacrifice! freewebnøvel.com
They were no longer an army, but a group of uncontrolled curses.
Every decaying body groaned and burst, only to hold back the retreating assault team, dragging them into a shared darkness.
"Hold it!"
Lambert roared, his hand rising and falling, cleaving a crazed charging Worm-Eaten Household corpse in two, black blood splattering.
The deputy leader followed closely, striking back another exploding Worm-Eaten Household with a spinning slash.
The next instant, with a boom, acid sprayed out like molten iron!
"Ah ah ah!"
A Knight, caught off guard, had his entire faceplate corroded and collapsed by the acid, metal and flesh smoking, charring, and disintegrating together.
Yet, he did not retreat a single step; instead, he gritted his teeth and roared in a distorted voice:
"I'll block the way! You go!"
He raised his shield high, like a burning iron wall, standing horizontally before the only exit, pressing the fiery shield firmly against the collapsing edge with his charred arm, blocking the surging torrent of Worm-Eaten Household!
He smoked all over, his figure swaying in the firelight, yet he stood unmoving, like a gatekeeper whom even death could not shake.
The last few Knights dragged his body out of the passage, and behind them, explosions shook the ground, the entire Worm-Eaten Household nest passage suddenly collapsing like a volcanic eruption, engulfing everything!
A scorching heatwave swept out, throwing them into the air and sending them crashing to the ground.
Behind them was the underground collapse, with flames soaring into the sky, as if a monster's heart had been uprooted from its core.
They did it.
Meanwhile, the external battlefield suddenly underwent a drastic change.
The formidable Worm-Eaten Household army, which had been advancing like a tide, completely collapsed the moment of the explosion.
They seemed to have had their core pierced by some mental blade.
One by one, the monsters suddenly paused, convulsed, and whimpered, their eyes losing their light but gaining a chaotic madness. The once disciplined formation instantly disintegrated; those Worm-Eaten Household that had once struck fear into the Knights were now frantically crashing, kneeling, and rolling, crushing themselves and their fellow creatures into the mud.
Dismembered limbs, mutilated bodies, blood, and organs mixed together, forming a nauseating crimson swamp.
Amidst the Red Tide, screams, shrieks, chewing sounds, and the crunching of bones converged into a symphony of hell.
However, at this moment, no one on the battlefield issued an order to attack.
Because everyone was witnessing all of this in shock.
Even the Frost Halberd Knights, seasoned in battle, had never seen such a crazy, terrifying scene.
Louis stood quietly on the high platform, his gaze fixed on the battlefield.
But there was no waver in his eyes; instead, a deeply hidden glimmer of light emerged.
"It's done."
His tone was calm, as if confirming a long-anticipated outcome.
"Everyone, retreat along the predetermined route."
He ordered the flag-bearer beside him, "Break the encirclement, construct a defensive line, no need to actively attack anymore."
The flag waved, and the command followed like a shadow. The Knight Order at the front lines rapidly and orderly disengaged from the battlefield, like a retreating tide, showing no sign of panic.
Duke Edmund, standing beside him, had not fully reacted at first.
He looked at the scene of the Worm-Eaten Household fighting among themselves, his brows tightly furrowed: "What's going on? Why are they suddenly fighting each other?
Then his gaze flickered, recalling the earth-shattering explosion just now.
The puzzle instantly clicked, and everything became clear.
Could it be... the Worm-Eaten Household was blown up?
And after the Worm-Eaten Household exploded, the Worm-Eaten Household, uncontrolled, went completely insane.
He turned to look at Louis; the young man was still unweathered, his black hair grayed by the fires of war, his expression steady, with no joy or arrogance in his eyes, as if everything was within his expectations.
He did it? He really did it?!
"Just with that 'flame cutting'? With one assault? A small team of throwers and Knights?"
Edmund did not show the tumultuous waves in his heart, but his gaze lingered on the young man's back for a long time.
He had never underestimated Louis.
In the battle of Cold Fang, he already felt that this young man was extraordinary.
Exceptional courage, decisive action; although there was an element of luck, there was even more on-the-spot strategic wisdom and battle perception.
At that time, he already had an assessment in his heart: This was a good seedling that could be sculpted, and perhaps in the future, he could become a pillar of the North, which was why he married his daughter to him.
But the Duke did not expect that Louis's brilliance was not in the future, but in the present.
Louis's composure and calmness were not a disguise.
His strategic planning and calculations were not mere luck.
His ability to control the battlefield and his calm decision to cut off the enemy's core had already surpassed the scope of being promising.
He was—a truly capable leader.
"So that's how it is," he sighed softly, his expression complex.
For the first time in his heart, Duke Edmund truly let go of that condescending view of a noble elder.
In its place was a complex, quiet respect.
The chaos after the Worm-Eaten Household lost control did not last too long.
The Worm-Eaten Household swarm, deprived of the Worm-Eaten Household's command, like empty shells drained of their souls, began to rapidly "self-digest" after a period of frantic struggle.
Hundreds of thousands of Worm-Eaten Household, in a very short time, were reduced to nothing but a ground covered in blood mud and shattered armor.
When the world returned to silence, Louis quietly ordered: "Clear the battlefield, count the casualties."
But when the casualty count came back, Louis fell silent.
The Red Tide Knights, three Elite Knights died, twelve Formal Knights died.
Although it was a very good casualty ratio, he was still a little sad.
Among them, some were the ones who had first journeyed with him across the snowy plains and through the North, and others—had been laughing and talking with him just last night.
On the battlefield, the blood mist had not yet dissipated, and the flames still flickered in the aftermath.
The Knights, dragging their injured bodies, returned to the formation, their fire shields burned through, their armor charred, yet they stood upright in their original positions, their faces a mixture of sorrow and pride.
They knew they had won, and they also knew the cost of this victory.
At this moment, Edmund noticed something:
Louis showed no joy.
He just stood there, his brow slightly furrowed, gazing at the ruins of the Worm-Eaten Household nest for a long time without speaking.
As if in his eyes, this victory was not perfect, and even—regrettable.
"He's still not satisfied?!" Edmund felt a slight tremor in his heart.
If it were anyone else, after destroying the Worm-Eaten Household and annihilating the Red Tide, no matter how composed, they should have sighed in relief and been happy, but he wasn't.
It wasn't feigned calmness, but a genuine feeling that there was a better solution, and there were warriors who could have been saved.
This strictness made him feel that the younger generation was formidable.
