He's in Love with the Devil.

Chapter 14: Victory

The long spear brought up a cold light and slashed down diagonally with an appalling sound.

The Gurundi cavalry leader had killed countless enemies on the battlefield with this move.

Faced with a heavily armored warhorse in mid-air and a giant-like steel warrior on horseback, no one could fail to be intimidated, and to be able to raise a shield was already considered a warrior. Even so, the hardest shield will be smashed by this shot to fly out, the owner of the shield is never likely to live.

However, today this shot fell short.

The moment the spear fell, the young king he was facing rolled over in the stirrups and almost instantly fell to the other side of the horse.

The iron spear was only a hair's breadth away from the king's cheek, swept through his silver hair, and landed on the other side of the warhorse, splitting empty.

At this moment, the king was definitely comparable to the world's most outstanding horseback dancers. The lance had just grazed the saddle of the horse, and he had already rolled over and sat back on the horse's back, and with a tug on the reins, he directly steered the horse forward.

The shot he was aiming for was empty, and the cavalry leader fell back to the ground with his horse.

In that instant, the heavy cavalry leader saw a cold smile sweep across the king's pale face.

That smile contained a ferocity that made even the descendants of the sea barbarians feel terrible.

In the next moment, the king had closed in on the Gurundi cavalry leader.

The Gulundi cavalry leader finally understood why the other party pushed the carriage down the grassy slope even though they knew that the empty carriage could not stop them.

--He was trying to interrupt the momentum of their charge.

The king had made a big gamble to get a chance for close combat for himself and his knights.

In order to inflict maximum damage when charging, the Gulundi heavy cavalrymen, both men and horses, were clad in heavy armor. Wherever the heavily-armored Gulundi cavalry stood, deep marks were left on the ground. The terrifying killing power of these heavy cavalrymen was traded for agility and maneuverability.

Out of self-confidence and to humiliate the Rogaland cavalrymen they didn't have in their eyes, the Gulundi heavy cavalrymen made the mistake of interrupting their charge and chose to cleave those wagons with showy maneuvers just like the chieftains.

This time was so brief, but their enemies seized it.

The sworn knights of Rogaland were wearing silver iron armor, and compared to the heavy cavalry of Gurundi, those lockets were as light as paper. They certainly couldn't resist the charge of the heavy cavalry, but they possessed an agility that the Gurundi cavalry didn't have.

The most agile among them was King Rogaland.

Because he wasn't wearing armor at all.

The war horses saved their hooves, and the king was the only one who fought in fancy dress.

--Before that, no one thought it was just a negotiation, but the king had to step into the battlefield himself, just like his father.

But that's where the king's strengths come in.

He was simply as light as the wind.

The king danced with the horses.

He galloped up around the heavy cavalry of the Gurundi, blowing a whirlwind of silver and white and scarlet around his black armor. In the whirlwind, the king swung his sword from his horse.

In doing so, man and horse must achieve a high degree of coordination, or else the master will be thrown off his horse and trampled to death by his own horse if he doesn't get the timing right.

Suddenly the darkness jumped up with moonlight.

Really strange, at this time the sky is dark and the rainstorm is pouring, where is the moonlight?

Indeed, there was no moonlight. It was the king's sword, which had cut out with great speed.

The King's sword had ice patterns like waves of water on the blade, a cold forged steel technique unique to the North. It was a cold sword, as sharp as its owner, and one look at it made the eye membranes feel like they were going to be cut open. The king used it to force the chieftain's iron lance, the sword heading for the fatally weak connections in his body armor, not calling for the horribly hideous weapon to have room to cast off.

He must let himself be swept up in a whirlwind of jingoism.

Once that wind stopped, and the chief's lance swung away, and the heavy riders charged forward, then he would be the one to die.

It wasn't as if no one had suggested the light cavalry close assassination method against the heavy Gurundi cavalry in the old days.

But until now, the Gulundi heavy cavalry is still the black shadow of death on the grassland.

Because, even if the light cavalry can approach the Gulundi heavy cavalry unharmed, it will not help.

It not only requires that the light cavalry must have a high level of martial arts, but also requires that he must have a heart that is close to madness!

He had to overcome his fear of being pulverized by the heavy cavalry before he could quickly swing that one precise sword stroke with a smooth hand.

This was truly dancing with death at the tip of the sword.

The heavy cavalry leader of Gurundi had met the most insidious and cunning opponent he had ever seen.

His opponent was a magnificent moon, but it was not the moon that hung in the sky, it was the scythe of death, the moon that came to harvest souls. It was as if the moon was wrapped in spider silk, and the silk was poisoned.

The rain was still falling.

In the wind and rain, the heavy cavalry of Gulundi were like black pylons caught in a whirlpool.

The king's sworn knights held their shields in one hand and their swords in the other, and danced in a circle around the Gurundi cavalry. They forgot about fear, and the bravery of the Gurundi cavalry, and all the glory of the knightly code of frontal charge.

Hell with the code of chivalry, they were sworn knights of the king.

Their code was only the King.

Tonight, right now.

They are with the King in blood.

This thought inspired these sworn knights to shed their unnecessary chivalric code, and like their king, they only stalked and forced the heavy cavalry of the Gurundi with deadly force, teaching them not to be able to give up their usual ferocious charge.

They had no spirit of knightly head-to-head combat, and were nothing like unscrupulous killers, yet maddening to the point of fear.

The invincible Gulundi heavy cavalrymen fought their first, most frustrating and irritating battle.

Some among them started to be ruthless, not caring, completely abandoning the horrific killings of straight stabs, gripping the middle of the gun and changing it into a club towards the heads of those crazy silver cavalrymen, bent on making their enemies' heads bleed.

And his enemy, the sworn rider roared in rage, sparing to let the iron lance hit his body heavily, leaping from his own horse and pouncing on the heavy cavalry's black warhorse. As the heavy cavalryman's iron lance fell upon him, so did he send his own sword into the soft throat of his enemy under his helmet.

The heavy cavalryman and the sworn knight tumbled together and fell from their horses.

At this moment, silver and black intertwined and bit together like two gears grinding against each other. Scarlet blood splatters erupted from the collision of the gears. Those blood splatters were quickly washed away by the cold rain of darkness.

The lives of the people and the lives of the horses collided with each other in the metal collision of black and silver.

Either die! Or live!

For the first time, there was actually a cavalryman crazier than the reckless men of Gurundi.

This black-and-silver cog, made up of the lives of men, and the lives of horses, kept turning, gradually leaving the original grassy slopes and coming to the lowlands below. Everything looked as if there was nothing worth caring about.

However, upon reaching a certain place in the ground, the king suddenly swung his sword away.

His opponent was startled by the sudden change in sword light.

And the king had already pulled on the reins and drew his horse to leap outside his own battle circle.

"Go!"

The king shouted sternly toward his knights.

At his command, the sworn knights did not hesitate to draw back, and each of them also left the circle where they were fighting soundly. The king's warhorse landed on the ground, and with a flick of his horse's head, he charged towards a flat area in front of them.

The sworn knights followed.

The red-eyed heavy cavalry roared with fury and chased after them in a whirlwind.

This time, they were finally able to regroup and reorganize into a heart-stoppingly straight line, launching a brawny and ferocious charge.

This time, there could be no more wagons, and there was no lightheartedness.

The silver sworn knights followed the scarlet cloaked king like a sharp and light wind sweeping across the flat grass.

The black heavy cavalry followed.

As they stepped onto that flat grass, it didn't take long for all the Gurundi cavalry to realize that something wasn't right.

They had just rushed out a short distance when their warhorses neighing in terror. As a result, they fell into the mire with their horses.

They screamed in terror.

Gurundi's heavy cavalrymen struggled to break free from the mud. But the armor on their bodies was connected to their horses through special iron buckles, so they couldn't break free at all. They could only futilely sink together with their horses.

It was a strange thing that the king and his knights passed through the same piece of grass without anything happening, while the heavy cavalrymen sank down.

The heavy cavalry had already bypassed the wetlands earlier, and the battle behind them didn't go towards the wetlands.

But--

There was more than that wetland here.

The main stem of the Doma River flows not far from here, and its two tributaries spread out over the lowlands, soaking the grasses day after day and forming swamps of one size or another. In winter, when the water level of the main stem of the Doma River drops and the tributaries gradually dry up, many small wetlands will shrink or even disappear.

Others, which are not so small or large, form permafrost that is no different from any other land due to the severe cold.

But, it's only September.

The worst of the bitter winter has not yet arrived, and those small wetlands have not yet been completely frozen.

The king had memorized all the swampy spread on this side of the country, while the heavy cavalry of the Gurundi knew only the largest wetlands.

The king and his cavalry were able to pass through the upper layer of the frozen wetlands unharmed, but the Gurundi cavalry, heavily armored in both horse and horse, had to get stuck in the mud.

Horses kicked.

The king and his sworn knights turn their horses and return.

The king tugged on the reins and looked down from above at his enemies whom he had lured into the mire.

The Gurundi cavalry leader was at the head of the charge, closest to the king at this point. He saw that the king carried his longsword diagonally, the cold, moonlike light flowing from it.

The chieftain realized something.

The king drove his horse forward.

The sword swept down like a curved moon in the darkness.

Blood spurted from the heavy cavalry leader's throat and he fell backward into the mud.

The mud quickly engulfed him.

The hot blood splattered in the corner of the king's eye and brought up a hostile and eerie scarlet red along his pale, cold face downward. The king watched coldly as his enemies were swallowed by the silent swamp.

The king pivoted his horse, and the storm poured down upon him.

The scarlet cloak was so deep in color in the rain that it seemed to be permeated with the thick smell of blood.

He spoke to the few remaining sworn knights around him:

"Go."

Icy, seething, frantic ......

That first drop of blood had fallen, staining the king's robes red.