The Extra Wants To Live

The cavalry of the Laurel Legion, who had been dismounted by a single blow, were only a handful in number, and they went into the gap created by Catherine and Billford, discarding their spears and drawing their weapons, and mercilessly trampled on their opponents.

"Sir Catherine!"

Billford, his armor twisted and in disarray after being hit by a cavalryman, hurriedly retreated to find Catherine.

Catherine threw herself into protecting the soldiers of the Laurel Legion and held on to three Tumarian warriors, but Billford was in such a bad state that his body was clearly visible.

Because he couldn't retreat and take advantage of the situation, he had no choice but to be attacked unilaterally by the three of them.

Billford felt flames pouring out from within him as he watched Catherine fall backwards after being struck in the head, still holding the enemy's spear tightly against her side.

No one knows Catherine's skills better than Bill Ford.

If they fought fairly, they wouldn't dare hurt Catherine, but three of them surrounded and attacked Catherine as she struggled to protect her soldiers.

Billford saw the true face of war, but it was unbearable for him.

He did not shout in anger or act wildly with excitement. Instead, he simply shut his mouth tightly, rushed in, and stabbed the enemy in the armpit with his sword, killing him in one breath.

"Oh my god!"

The other person could only let out a small sigh. Billford charged with his bare hands at the Tumarian warrior, who had raised his sword to end the life of Catherine, who had fallen and was unable to move.

He thrust his arm into the raised sword arm, wrapped around it, and broke it with a crack.

"Ugh!"

The warrior tried to counterattack despite his dislocated shoulder, but Billford took him down, rolling on the ground and protecting himself by pressing hard against the man.

Their arms became intertwined, and they were so close that they could feel each other's hot body temperatures.

*Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!*

Billford pulled a dagger from his waist and repeatedly stabbed the warrior in the armpit until the flesh became tattered. He then slit the man's throat open as he cowered beneath him.

"I hope you don't call me a coward," Billford thought. "Weren't you the ones who attacked Sir Catherine first?"

"Sir Catherine!"

Billford, who had jumped up and frowned at his fallen enemy, turned to look at Catherine. She, though badly bruised, was holding the last enemy's spear and pushing her opponent back.

Billford joined her and killed the enemy with a single blow, then withdrew from the battlefield, supporting Catherine as they moved.

"Sir Catherine, are you all right?" Billford asked, concern in his voice.

"You're making a big fuss, Sir Billford. The battle isn't over yet," Catherine responded sternly, though she did not turn away from Billford.

The enemy cavalry was already on the verge of collapse after being attacked from the flank by their forces. Some of their cavalry, having surveyed the situation, were now moving to support Carl by bypassing the enemy cavalry.

In the distance, a group of cavalry could be seen galloping through the night desert without hindrance.

From the high hilltop, the dizzying battle situation was visible at a glance. But for some reason, Carl, riding at the very front of the cavalry, seemed the largest and clearest figure in Billford's mind.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

****

Carl ran down the hill without stopping once, and Hidan's infantry had no time to form a line. Some of the cavalry, who had fallen behind, were running late, but it was already too late.

The confusion caused by the initial surprise attack had collapsed the chain of command. Mid-ranking commanders in charge of the cavalry ended up acting on their own judgment. Unfortunately, the cavalry at the rear detoured north, targeting the infantry of the Laurel Alliance.

In the meantime, because the orders weren't properly conveyed, lower-ranking commanders, worried about a rear surprise attack, grouped their cavalry into smaller units of 11 and came running. The surprise attack had been a complete success. Confusion was at its peak, and the chain of command had broken down entirely.

Still, the power difference was overwhelming.

"Just once is enough. Just one more time, stop Carl's cavalry charge," Hidan thought. "Then we can hold the infantry ranks, and the enemy cavalry will be useless. With our overwhelming numbers, we can break up their exhausted infantry."

"Form up! Form up!" Hidan kept giving orders as he watched the cavalry charge toward him.

The number of cavalry from the Laurel Union did not seem particularly large. It was a small charge that, under normal circumstances, would be laughable.

"Who are you?" Hidan wondered.

But when he saw Carl at the head of the cavalry, shining like a beacon, everything seemed to tremble.

From his appearance, Carl seemed to be of significant rank within Hardion, possibly a high-ranking noble of the count family or higher. He might even be a member of a duchy or the imperial family.

"Is he really crazy? What's the point of dying in such a reckless charge?" Hidan thought.

But then, he realized the gravity of Carl's action.

Carl, with fewer than 3,000 soldiers, was charging bravely against 14,000 enemies.

The infantry of the Laurel Union, despite being attacked from the flanks and rear, did not collapse. They held their ground, fighting with a fervent belief that they would create an opening for the cavalry to exploit.

It was as if not one of them doubted victory.

"It's a belief... almost like faith!" Hidan realized, his body trembling.

Carl, at the front of the cavalry, charged forward with the belief that he could overcome the overwhelming numerical disadvantage and win. It was as if he were a devout believer standing before his god.

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Carl's immense personal power, his strategic insight, and his devilish charisma made it impossible for anyone to complain or doubt him. He was leading them all to victory.

"Was there such a person in the empire?" Hidan asked himself as he observed Carl, clad in full plate armor and wearing a red cloak that only royalty was permitted to wear.

"… the one who plants laurel trees?"

Was this young Archduke, only 18 years old, the one leading the charge?

"Turn around!" Carl's booming voice echoed like thunder.

It was so loud and clear that both the cavalry galloping across the desert and the infantry fighting for their lives could hear it.

His shout alone was louder than the hundred cavalrymen charging behind him. But instead of retreating, Carl pressed forward with even more speed and determination.

Four knights broke from the formation, and the cavalry filled in the gap closely behind them. Carl ran at the front, where he shined the brightest, to lead them all to victory.

Hidan, watching the spectacle unfold, shouted, "Form a wall! Quickly!"

But few soldiers responded. They were all paralyzed by Carl's thunderous roar and the sight of the cavalry charging fearlessly behind him.

And then Carl, rising from his saddle, lance in hand, charged forward like a force of nature.

"Don't run away! Don't run! Hold your ground! If the ranks break, we'll all die!" Hidan tried desperately to rally his soldiers, but many of the conscripts had already started to flee in terror.

By this time, the elite soldiers and conscripts had become mixed together, and Hidan himself had to ride his horse in an attempt to restore order. Some soldiers did return to their positions at the sight of their supreme commander, but it was too late. The rear of the Tumari rebels was now exposed and in shambles.

*Wedge!*

*Thud!*

"Kuaaaah! Aaaaaah!"

Carl threw his lance, the heavy weapon piercing through four armored soldiers and knocking them backward. Blood spurted from their bodies, and those who saw the horrific sight screamed in fear, losing their sanity.

"Master!" someone yelled in terror, though it was clearly a misunderstanding.

"He is not a master!" Hidan shouted, but the soldiers had already broken ranks and fled.

As the conscripts ran, the standing army was pushed aside and joined the flight. There was no choice but to retreat.

Carl, without dismounting his horse, pulled out a spear for close combat and charged into the fallen enemy infantry.

With a powerful swing, he struck down the soldiers before him, tearing through them like rag dolls. His white horse, fearless, plowed forward, kicking and striking any enemy in its path.

Carl charged ahead, leading the way, with the entire battlefield at his mercy.

He swung his heavy spear, which was more than 2 meters long, as sharply as a whip, and the soldiers were torn apart like stuffed dolls just by being touched by the incredible force.

As always, Carl's white horse rode forward, confident that Carl would block the enemy's weapons, pushing the enemies in its path with its head, striking them with its chest, and kicking them with its hooves.