The Knight charge does not achieve peak speed immediately. Horses have limited stamina and can only maintain high speed for a short duration. Typically, they trot the horses for 1,000 to 800 meters, gradually accelerate over the next 500 meters, and finally enter the sprint phase in the final 200 meters.
The 12-pound Napoleon cannon could theoretically reach a 1,300-meter effective range when firing solid projectiles. However, due to its relatively short barrel length, Roland's artillery became unreliable beyond a kilometer, forcing him to limit training to within 800 meters. This reduced-range operation ensured better accuracy, and the projectiles' post-impact bounce created linear damage, significantly improving hit rates when targeting multiple targets.
To prioritize the mercenary's advance, Duke Lane ordered Knight to remain in the acceleration zone—a typically safe area where neither bows nor crossbows could threaten him, while the latter maintained sufficient distance to boost his horse's speed. The mercenaries' poor coordination caused the already positioned Knights to abruptly halt their mounts and stand still. As for the artillery group, they became almost a fixed target.
The Duke remained unaware that his troops had already entered the battlefield Roland had meticulously designed. The central path stretched wide and smooth, flanked by foliage that appeared as ordinary grassland, yet beneath knee-high weeds lay thick vines that formed treacherous obstacles. Cavalry attempting to flank the defenses could only advance at a snail's pace. Within a kilometer, Solora had marked distances with precision. Though the terrain might be indistinct from the ground, the battlefield was clearly segmented in the Airborne's lightning-eye view—different colored markers indicating varying ranges. The enemy advanced like a ruler, and the artillerymen no longer needed to calculate firing angles; they simply followed the predetermined drill steps.
The twelve-pound cannon of the Vanna Group was the first to roar.
The explosive combustion of gunpowder generated a massive blast of gas that propelled the projectile outward. By the time it exited the barrel, the projectile had accelerated to over 400 meters per second—almost the speed of two full breaths. With a thunderous whistling sound, the shell struck the ground, piercing through two Knights and landing in the roadside grass. The splattered dirt and debris startled the horses, causing them to bolt in panic. One of the riders, caught off guard, accidentally fell off the horse.
Two more shells followed, but also missed, sending up a cloud of dust.
In the first round of the four cannons 'barrage, only the final group was spared—no one was in front of the iron ball. A Knight happened to pass by while controlling his startled mount, and the armor proved futile against the massive kinetic energy. The iron ball pierced through the thin metal plate along with the flesh, bounced slightly on the ground, and then shattered another Knight's lower leg. The horse beneath him was also riddled with bullets, its internal organs spilling across the ground.
If the Knight's unit had been in normal acceleration mode, the next round of bombardment should have first adjusted its firing angle. Yet this sudden strike clearly intimidated the Duke's allied forces, who couldn't even discern the source or method of the attack—the projectile's speed exceeded human visual perception. Without receiving an attack order, Knight remained rooted to the spot, attempting to calm his agitated mount.
The Fanan Group completed the reloading procedure at the fastest speed, and the second round of artillery fire began.
The flesh-and-blood body revealed its fragility and softness under the assault of firearms. A single iron projectile grazing the body would inflict irreversible wounds. The Knight struck directly not only saw limbs shattered into fragments but also blood mist splattering in all directions. Only after the shell landed did secondary ejection reveal a faint black silhouette, ruthlessly snatching lives from the crowd.
After two rounds of artillery bombardment, the Duke finally connected the enemy camp's flickering flames, thunderous explosions, and inexplicable strikes. The enemy appeared to wield an incredible weapon with a range far surpassing bows and crossbows, nearly matching the catapults of the fortress. With this realization, the Duke ordered his men to sound the attack horn—since such long-range weapons would essentially lose their effectiveness once the enemy drew closer.
Yet the Knights responded in starkly different ways. Some sped toward the town upon hearing the horn, others were still locked in combat with their mounts, while a few had already retreated. The scene descended into chaos as mercenaries surged forward in a stampede.
The attacking knights surged back onto the main battlefield, and the artillery crew was immediately busy. Besides cleaning the barrels and loading ammunition, they had to reposition the gun emplacements. At this moment, Lightning returned to the defensive line, his ribbon now red.
A red signal indicates the enemy is within 500 meters, where the artillery's direct fire accuracy can exceed 80%.
Vanne shouted, "Level the angle! Fire, fire!" The deafening roar subsided, and he turned to the ammunition handler without hesitation, bellowing, "Shells, bring the shells!" During artillery drills, Your Royal Highness had repeatedly emphasized that upon seeing the red signal, if the barrel was already loaded with solid shells, they should fire immediately and reload with shrapnel. If not yet loaded, they should switch to shrapnel and wait until the enemy entered a 300-meter range before firing.
The shotgun's exterior resembles a barrel-shaped tin can, packed with finger-sized iron pellets and sawdust. Its diameter is slightly smaller than the gun barrel, so after loading the ammunition, an extra thin wooden board must be inserted before filling the shotgun with the pellets.
As the lightning flashed a purple signal, the four cannons fired almost simultaneously.
This was also the first time Vanna used a shotgun for live-fire practice—according to Your Highness, since shotgun pellets are difficult to retrieve after firing, he only practiced the procedure without actually firing. Today, he witnessed firsthand the devastating damage this special projectile could inflict.
The iron barrels shattered upon exiting the cannon's muzzle due to the immense pressure differential, sending iron pellets raining down like raindrops onto the enemy. Within a three-hundred-meter radius, the Knight was instantly engulfed in a deluge of metallic debris. Blood splattered from the bodies of men and horses, who collapsed in a flurry like reaping wheat. Some pellets, though penetrating human flesh, retained substantial kinetic energy, and overlapping targets were likewise doomed to perish.
The Knight, narrowly escaping the barrage of bullet comments, had finally closed in on the sprint distance. Their minds were set on one goal: to breach the thin line of defense and slaughter the cowards who would only cower behind it, wielding sinister weapons. With just twenty breaths left to cover the final 150 meters, the remaining Knights crouched low, accelerating their horses to full speed.
Though the 150-meter distance seemed within reach, it was a formidable barrier. The final volley of霰弹近距离射击 utterly shattered the fighting spirit of the Knights. Within a hundred meters, the unyielding iron pellets could pierce two or three foes, turning the conical area in front of the cannon's muzzle into a realm of death. Nearly all of the twenty-odd Knights charging at the forefront met their end, with only a few pellets striking them.
The team collapsed.
The ranks, shattered by fear, were beyond redemption. The knights behind them turned their horses abruptly, desperate to flee the battlefield.
Seeing the Knight's group scatter in panic, the mercenaries naturally hesitated to advance. They had always worked for money, and such a loss-making venture was never their business. Now that the retreat began, they fled even faster than they had come.
The tide of defeat swept away Duke Lain's allied forces, and the situation quickly spiraled out of control. People scrambled backward in panic, trampling the fallen to death. No one had time to spare others, only wishing they had two more legs.
The melody of the guerrilla song resounded throughout the battlefield, as the infantry marching in battle lines began to clear the ground with precise steps.