Free Web NovelThe corpse's charred shell split open, overflowing with vibrant red vines and fleshy petals, like a diseased greenhouse wildly spreading across the battlefield.
Vines coiled around dead magical beasts, snapping their neck bones, while roots burrowed into the knights' wounds, deep into their flesh, as if using the corpses to incubate rage.
Injured magical beasts shrieked and fell, only to instantly rise again, nourished by the Red Tide, their eyes crimson, their steps faster and more brutal than before they died.
The mist swallowed the charging knights, blurring their figures but amplifying their killing intent.
Those who should have stopped under wounds, flames, and arrows now roared, charging directly towards the concealed crossbowmen and sniper positions high on the mountain wall.
Louis observed this scene with a cold gaze through his monocular telescope.
He had long known from daily intelligence reports and the Duke's letters that this monster army possessed a strange ability: the dead could imbue the living with multiplied strength.
Yet, when he witnessed this insane charge, seemingly impervious to any damage, he still felt a momentary surprise.
That wasn't courage; it was a mad tide forcibly dragged onto the battlefield by death energy and fury.
It could boost strength by four or five times and completely eliminate fear.
But his expression remained calm, he merely raised his hand slightly, ordering the soldiers behind him: "Load all Frost-Bite Soul-Shock Bombs."
Several knights specializing in heavy firepower immediately moved, opening heavy iron-locked chests and retrieving short, thick bomb bodies engraved with blue magical patterns, their centers faintly glowing black.
They were swiftly loaded into short-barreled launchers, gleaming against the metal inner walls.
The lever was pressed down, and a low tremor rumbled into the air.
One after another, the bomb bodies trailed arcs of eerie blue light, plunging into the densest blood mist at the bottom of the valley.
These were no ordinary Magic Bombs; these were the ultimate killing weapons, the Frost-Bite Soul-Shock Bombs, personally crafted by Silco after Louis learned of the Rage-Burning Thorns Garden's weakness.
They used the crystal core of a Soul-Devouring Lizard, polished into an oval crystal core by alchemists and embedded with a miniature rune array, releasing a powerful mental shockwave upon explosion, directly striking the brain's emotional center and instantly blanking all anger.
Furthermore, they contained Frost Vine Leaf fluid sacs, low-temperature, easily ruptured medicinal sacs that released a cold mist upon bursting, their powder seeping into the bloodstream to rapidly suppress adrenaline and berserk hormone secretion.
Of course, this thing had never been tested in actual combat, and even Louis wasn't sure if it would work.
Until the moment it hit the ground—BOOM!!!
A blue shockwave exploded like an invisible meteor at the bottom of the valley; the sound wasn't an explosion but a deafening roar capable of tearing nerves, as if someone had struck a war drum inside the eardrum.
The air suddenly compressed, and even the Red Tide was forcibly pushed away by a circular, transparent ripple.
Within fifty meters of the blast center, the movements of all barbarian soldiers and magical beasts froze.
Their eyes, like extinguished candle flames, abruptly dimmed from crimson to stagnant water; their facial muscles lost all expression, weapons half-raised in the air, even forgetting to maintain their balance.
A galloping warhorse instantly lost power mid-air, falling to the ground like a broken puppet.
The next moment, a cold mist, like ten thousand sharp ice needles, burst forth explosively from the blast center, penetrating every breath and every inch of exposed skin.
The sensation was a biting cold, yet it carried a strange numbness, as if the adrenaline switch had been forcibly turned off, and fury extinguished by an invisible hand, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling emptiness.
"...?" A barbarian knight squeezed out a low, confused sound from his throat.
The mental shock of the Frost-Bite Soul-Shock Bomb severed his emotional resonance with the Rage-Burning Thorns Garden like a sharp blade.
His fury instantly turned to nothingness, leaving only raw survival instinct in his consciousness, and that instinct demanded an immediate outlet. frёewebnoѵēl.com
He didn't even have time to distinguish friend from foe before his spear, following its habitual attack trajectory, thrust out, embedding itself deep into the nearest body clad in vine armor.
Even if that was his companion with whom he had charged.
Chaos spread like wildfire; more knights, their emotions severed, lost their ability to discern, blindly swinging their blades, parrying, and roaring.
The previously roaring war beasts and giants now sank their voices as if their spines had been broken, their limbs tensing, daring not to advance another step.
Their eyes were no longer the wild flames that tore everything apart but were heavy, hesitant, and even timid, suppressed by the frost.
At that moment, the killing tide at the bottom of the valley seemed to be frozen solid by the blue cold light.
Watching the enemy troops slaughtering each other at the bottom of the valley, Louis couldn't help but let a smile curl on his lips.
As soon as he saw the intelligence, he immediately had Silco start manufacturing this Magic Bomb.
But before this, he had never truly faced the berserk warriors of the Rage-Burning Thorns Garden, nor was he sure how effective it would be.
Now, the answer was written in the blood of the barbarians at the bottom of the valley.
The Magic Bomb was like a kiss of death tailored specifically for these monsters, severing their fury and causing them to collapse in fear.
This made the excitement in his chest surge upwards like a flame.
After all, that hellish scene was the result of his meticulous calculations, step by step.
It felt as satisfying as getting the exam questions a few days in advance.
However, he knew very well that the window of opportunity was fleeting, lasting only a few tens of seconds at most.
The power of the Red Tide was being weakened, but the vine garden's roots were still spreading wildly.
If they delayed any longer, the living vine wall would chew through {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the entire defense line.
Louis immediately made a judgment: heavy weaponry must be deployed.
Thus, over fifty steel beasts simultaneously emerged from the side valley and both flanks of the valley mouth, appearing on the battlefield.
Mad bulls clad in cold iron armor stepped out through the snow, exhaling white mist from their nostrils, their hooves thundering like war drums, pulling the Red Tide Territory's specially designed heavy armored combat platforms.
The war chariots' magical steel frames were covered in thick armor, and the breaching hooks extending from their sides gleamed coldly in the firelight.
Inside the firing ports on both sides of the chariots, archers and crossbowmen were already in position, Magic Bomb arrows and flamethrower nozzles poised and ready.
Each steel beast was accompanied by a pair of Red Tide Knights squads, numbering over twenty men each, providing left and right flank cover.
Their mission was clear: clear out any stragglers and protect the war chariots from close-quarters destruction.
Of course, first and foremost, they were to preserve themselves, and secondly, to preserve these combat platforms.
At the forefront, Red Tide Legion Commander Lambert led the charge.
His black-armored warhorse snorted white mist, its hooves thundering like war drums; he raised his spear high and plunged directly into the inferno of intertwined Red Tide and firelight.
The roaring steel beasts pulled the war chariots, their iron hooves crushing vines and flesh, the splattered hot blood instantly turning into steam in the scorching flames.
The breaching hooks on the sides of the war chariots continuously extended and retracted, flinging barbarian riders and their beasts into the air.
Knights, closely following the war chariots, charged in, advancing through the gaps torn open by the hooks.
Their spears precisely pierced the barbarian soldiers' armor, then their knives swiftly cut down the fallen enemies.
At this moment, the roar of fire and iron drowned out the screams, and the sharp edge of the Red Tide swept across the entire valley mouth like a tide.
However, the crushed barbarian corpses did not immediately quiet down.
Once the Red Tide-enhanced bodies fell, their skin would swell and crack within seconds, splattering flesh and bone fragments, revealing dark red vines as tough as steel wire.
The vines grew wildly, clinging to the steel beast's armor plates, their ends opening into fleshy flowers with tentacles and serrated teeth, spewing corrosive and suffocating blood mist.
On previous battlefields, these would have been enough to turn most warhorses into scrap metal.
But today, their ape-like fangs gnawed on cold iron.
Every steel beast's chassis was forged from the Red Tide Territory's reserves of superior cold iron ore.
Its cold nature suppressed the corrosiveness of the Red Tide, and its toughness was sufficient to withstand the full force of a battering ram.
Thus, the blood mist condensed into dark frost marks on the cold iron surface but failed to corrode even a single indentation.
Vines climbing onto the vehicle body were merely caught in the thick armor seams, then pulverized into dust under the crushing force of the wheels and chain gears.
Fleshy flowers lunged near the flamethrower ports, but before their petals could even close, they were incinerated root and stem by the high-pressure flames.
And the steel beasts, fearless, retaliated with a sea of fire; flamethrower ports on the front and sides of the war chariots opened simultaneously, scorching blue tongues of fire racing along the vines, burning large patches of fleshy flowers to charred ash.
Knights followed up with Fire Scale oil bottles and flamethrowers, igniting scattered remnants, and the acrid smoke was dispersed by the strong winds.
Lambert gave the order amidst the fire: "Advance in sections! War chariots crush the formation, knights provide fire support, second echelon push forward!"
The steel beasts surged forward like an iron tide, crushing unburnt debris and vines; knights weaved through the gaps, providing fire and finishing blows, clearing everything thoroughly.
The second echelon immediately took over, pressing the line, making the entire advance as stable as an iron wall, giving the enemy no chance to regroup.
And those barbarian warriors who should have fallen, under the Red Tide's catalysis, suddenly convulsed, their adrenaline surging, muscles instantaneously bulging, skin tearing and oozing blood.
Their pupils dilated into elongated beast eyes, and their breathing became a low roar.
These flames were meaningless to them; they had no pain sensation left at this point.
A berserker with a broken leg, like a beast unleashed from its chains, lunged violently before a Red Tide Knight.
"Ah ah ah—!"
A spear pierced his chest, but his blood-stained hands still gripped the spear shaft tightly, and with a reverse pull, the knight, armor and all, was dragged into the vine tangle.
The next moment, barbed vines tightened like whips, coiling both of them into a vortex of flesh and blood.
On the other side, a berserker warrior, his back blazing, suddenly leaped onto a steel beast, hooking the flamethrower port with his bare hands, his fingers embedding into the metal plate seams, emitting a screeching tearing sound.
Until a Magic Bomb detonated just an arm's length away, blasting him into a mist of blood.
The outer knights roared, forming a human wall of steel shields, resisting the berserkers' charge.
Heavy crossbowmen calmly fired through the gaps in the shield wall, their Magic Bomb arrows exploding into crimson fireworks amidst the enemy ranks.
The steel beasts swung their hooks, their axles grinding through the mud, flinging away approaching barbarians, then finishing them off with flamethrower blasts.
These frenzied assaults indeed made the Red Tide Knights struggle, their line forced to contract slightly multiple times, and even several war chariots were briefly entangled.
But relying on their thick defenses, skilled coordination, and the cover of the steel beasts, they held their ground, turning every assault into the enemy's funeral.
Except for a few unfortunate soldiers dragged away by vines, most Red Tide Knights remained safely within their formation.
However, not all counterattacks were effectively blocked.
From deep within the Red Tide, a heavy, slow footsteps echoed, like war drums beating underground.
A hulking, almost monstrous black shadow emerged from the blood mist.
It was Carlos; he was still alive in this hellish battlefield, his double-bladed great axe resting on his shoulder, its edge still dripping with fresh blood.
The Red Tide enveloped his entire body, his muscles bulging so much that his skin was forcibly torn, oozing dark red blood, like magma erupting from rock fissures.
With every breath, his chest inflated rapidly like bellows, exhaling hot air with a sweet, bloody scent.
His crimson eyes glowed blindingly in the smoke, like candle flames ignited by hellfire.
The movement of raising his axe created a visible wave of air; the moment the axe blade fell, the air was sharply cut open.
"Boom!" The steel beast's heavy side armor plate was dented inwards, the metal twisting and groaning.
Carlos didn't wait for the opponent to react, he violently flipped his wrist and pulled the axe, tearing off a section of armor plate covered in metal fragments, and swung it towards a nearby knight, sending him and his shield tumbling into the blood-soaked ground.
His next strike met a hook spear head-on; the metal arm shattered like a dry branch under his brute force, oil spraying out, splattering onto his exposed shoulders and back, like a new layer of bloody war paint.
He let out a low growl, snapping the broken hook spear shaft into two pieces, and casually plunged one into the chest of a knight attempting to approach.
Vines under his feet were crushed to powder, mud and blood splattered upwards, like deep red waves breaking.
Behind him, dozens of elite berserker warriors followed closely.
Their skin was wrapped in layers of pitch-black vines, the ends of the vines burrowing directly into their flesh, constantly writhing, as if living creatures were sucking inside their bodies.
Whenever a strike tore open their bodies, as blood splattered, the vines would rapidly extend and intertwine, forcibly sealing the wound, even pushing new chunks of flesh out of the injury.
They were like gods of slaughter unleashed from myths.
The first berserker crashed head-on into a "steel mad bull"; the flames spewed by the mad bull scorched his face, but he ignored them.
The next second, a giant axe swept horizontally, and the beast's head, along with half its neck bone, was directly cleaved off, drawing an arc of scalding blood in the air before crashing to the ground.
Another berserker charged to the side cabin of a steel beast, tearing a crack in the armor with his bare hands, embedding his fingers into the metal seams, and ripping open the cabin door like paper.
The knight operator inside had just raised his sword when a giant hand grabbed his helmet and dragged him out by the neck, the axe blade simultaneously chopping down.
Blood splattered across the war chariot's side, and the heat turned into a layer of crimson mist in the cold wind.
The battlefield was instantly engulfed in blood and fire; screams, roars, and the sound of tearing metal mixed into a cacophony.
The outer knight formation was forced to retreat, their shield wall breached, the gaps widening rapidly along the line like bloody wounds bitten open by a beast.
These berserk warriors, consumed by the Red Tide, had long lost their sanity; fury burned within them like a raging inferno, driving them only to bite, crush, and advance, almost disregarding any tactics or defense.
This made them fierce, but also easier to manipulate and lure.
Just then, Louis's command echoed across the battlefield through the horn calls: "Light cavalry! Lead them away!"
Several light-armored knights responded, charging out, circling Carlos and his elites, unleashing volleys of crossbow bolts, appearing and disappearing at the edge of the Red Tide, enticing them to roar and give chase, drawing them away from the main battle line.
Once the powerful enemy stepped into the pre-set firing zone, the steel beasts' firing ports flashed simultaneously.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Magic Bombs fired in unison, their explosive impact raising wave after wave of Red Tide, flames and shredded flesh tumbling in the air.
Flamethrower tongues spewed from both sides of the war chariots, instantly igniting berserkers who came too close, while heavy crossbow volleys repeatedly pierced their chests.
Carlos's wounds were continuously stitched by vines, but the scorching of the flames and the shock of the explosions gradually slowed his movements, his heavy breathing like a giant stone pressing on his chest.
He raised his axe, intending to charge forward again, but was hit head-on by a Magic Bomb, the impact blasting him backward.
The Red Tide dispersed from around him, his knees buckled, and he fell heavily to the ground.
He raised his head defiantly, his eyes still burning with unextinguished hatred.
However, the next moment, the steel beast's heavy crossbow fired its last arrow, piercing his heart.
Carlos crashed down, his battle axe rolling several times in the mud before finally coming to a standstill.
