Chapter 121 – The Spear Wall Defense
Day Four – Morning
A thin mist clung to the battlefield. The stench of dried blood from the previous day's carnage still poisoned the air, and black crows circled hungrily above.
At the northern edge, Baron Hohenberg sat astride his horse, his weathered face hardened with grim determination. Behind him, the remainder of his force—around 3,800 men—stood locked in a tight phalanx formation, long spears bristling like a forest of iron thorns.
> "This wall of spears is our last bastion! Hold fast, and do not let the Crimson Wolf break through!" Hohenberg's roar carried over the ranks, a mix of steel and desperation.
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Fenrir raised the crimson banner. Three booming drumbeats echoed across the field—the Eisenwald signal for advance.
Darius Holt led the infantry forward in tight shield wall. The ground trembled as the two forces closed.
Then came the strike.
Crack!
Schktt!
Long spears thrust forward in a brutal tide. Eisenwald soldiers screamed as steel ripped into shields, armor, and flesh. Blood sprayed across the mud.
> "Hold! Keep the line steady! Don't fall back!" Darius bellowed, his shield braced, teeth gritted against the storm of spearpoints.
Each step forward was bought with blood.
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Behind them, Selene Aestra raised her arm.
> "Archers, target their spearheads! Loose!"
Whoooosh!
Hundreds of arrows sliced through the air, plunging into the tightly packed front lines of Hohenberg's phalanx. Men staggered, helmets split, spears clattered to the ground. Cracks appeared in the seamless wall of steel.
From the rear, Fenrir watched the ripple of chaos with narrowed eyes.
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On the left flank, Garrik Stormhoof drove his cavalry forward. Horses thundered across the earth, sending vibrations rolling through the ranks. The enemy's left wing lurched to meet the charge, spears angling to repel the horsemen.
Then, at the last second—Garrik wheeled his unit away. The ground shuddered from the sudden withdrawal. The flank of Hohenberg's formation had overcommitted, leaving a gap.
Fenrir's lips curled into a thin smile.
> "There… the breach we've been waiting for."
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Behind Eisenwald's front lines, Kael Morgenstern inclined his head toward Fenrir.
> "My lord, allow us to strike through that gap."
Fenrir lifted his blade high, voice ringing clear.
> "Not yet. Let them falter further… then we strike with everything."
The Crimson Knights lowered their visors. Armor glinted, reins tightened, blades unsheathed. One hundred forty-three mounted knights stood like coiled thunder, waiting only for Fenrir's signal.
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The battlefield seethed with noise—shields splintering, men screaming, arrows hissing down. Eisenwald's infantry groaned under the pressure, pushing back against the wall of spears. Every meter gained was a slaughterhouse.
Selene's arrows rained again. Garrik's cavalry lingered on the left, baiting further overreach. The phalanx bent, its edges quivering.
From the rear, Baron Hohenberg howled:
> "I am still here! Fight! Hold the line!"
Fenrir's crimson eyes narrowed, his aura simmering just beneath the surface.
> "Your wall won't save you, Hohenberg. It will be your grave."
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Fenrir raised his sword aloft—the long-awaited signal.
Kael let out a sharp breath, then lowered his weapon toward the gap.
The ground shook as the Crimson Knights surged forward, a tide of steel and black horses.
> "CRIMSON KNIGHTS—CHARGE!!"
The chapter ends as their charge smashes into Hohenberg's flank, the battlefield about to erupt into chaos.
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Real-Time Report
Eisenwald Forces
Additional losses: ~70 (mostly infantry).
Remaining strength: ~9,150.
Morale: High, rising with the Crimson Knights' advance.
Enemy Forces – Baron Hohenberg
Starting: ~3,800.
Current: ~3,500.
Morale: Holding, but shaken by the breach on the flank.
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