Dynasty Rebirth Infinity

Three days later-

An army of over ten thousand gathered at a pass, hundreds of coats of arms dancing in the wind. Each flag represented a band of nobles, Knights, Yeomen Archers and Pikemen, and even mercenaries for hire.

There was no neatly organized military, but warbands, individual units commanded by a higher authority. At the top of the hierarchy stood the Grand Knights and Wizards.

Comparably, the barbarian side comprised hundreds of clans led by Chieftains, Chiefs, War Chiefs, and Shamans.

While the barbarians wore lighter armor into battle, they were no less effective, renowned as fierce warriors wielding swords, axes, and bows forged with excellent craftsmanship, able to split plate armor. And they also had a number advantage.

Overall, the Kingdom's side was at a slight disadvantage.

"Although we still drove them back, thanks to the Wizards." Ewan thought, standing among his troops at an unimportant corner of the left battlefield.

His small platoon of 50 men got allotted a 2nd-level Wizard Apprentice who tried taking command the moment he was assigned, which Ewan viewed as a joke. The arrogant man almost pissed himself after a single glare from Ewan and knew who was in charge.

As for why the Wizards joined this war? Ewan didn't care. To each their own.

Instead of looking at the numbers, Ewan focused more on the leaders of both sides- the Wizards, Shamans, Grand Knights, and War Chiefs, the overlords of the battlefield.

His side had one Wizard and Ten Grand Knights, while their side had one Shaman and fifteen War Chiefs. However, the Shamans were weaker than the Wizards, so the battle in the upper echelons was about equal.

Turning his eye away, he glanced at the muscular barbarians facing them, their likely first foes. There were four warbands. In comparison, he only had two on his side.

"No matter. I will make do." Ewan thought.

Just then, he noticed movements in the Barbarian's ranks. Someone blew a war horn.

Too* Tootootoo*

Thump* Thump* Thump* Thump*

The barbarian army advanced, their steps shaking the ground beneath.

Ewan glanced at his men. He saw the fear in their eyes. They didn't want to fight this war, but they had to. He had to raise morale, or it would affect their combat effectiveness.

"Men! What do you see there?!" Ewan pointed at the barbarians. "Those are a heap of wheat, ready for spring harvest! Are you afraid of a bunch of wheat?!"

"No..." The men meekly said.

"I can't hear you! Louder!" Ewan shouted.

"NO!" The men shouted as if to dispel their fear.

"Prepare for battle! We will have a plentiful harvest on this day!" Ewan drew his sword, his shield strapped on his left arm.

Shing* Shing* Shing*

The knights drew their swords, and the archers pulled arrows, ready to fight.

The nearby lords saw Ewan's display and tried copying him, but their display was a few points less since they were also afraid of death.

Vroo*

Someone blew a deep warhorn. Ewan looked over and saw someone waving a flag at them. It was the signal to advance.

"Men, Advance!" Ewan pointed his sword forward.

"Advance!"

"Forward, men!"

Others repeated the orders as fellow Barons urged their men to advance.

Slowly, the two armies advanced on each other. Soon, they reached firing range.

"Archers, fire!" Ewan ordered.

"Shoot!"

"Loose!"

From both sides, archers began pelting each other, with the first casualties appearing.

"Ahh!"

"It hurts!"

"My arm!"

"..."

Ewan and those with shields protected themselves, but those without suffered casualties, including the archers. Although they had broad helmets and some armor, it was insufficient to guard against the arrows. Also, archers tended to taint their arrows with a fermented mixture of human feces to infect wounds, so those injured would have a chance of dying from infection if they didn't have a powerful physique. Of course, Knights didn't worry about this. Only potent poisons could work on them.

"Show no fear! Advance with me!" Ewan yelled to raise morale.

"Just a bit more." Ewan narrowed his eyes, locking on the enemy Chief and Lesser Shaman, the prize.

Half a minute later-

"Now is the time, men! Charge!" Ewan raised his sword and urged his horse forward.

"Neigh*" The warhorse under him heeded its master's command and charged.

"Forward, men! Charge!" The other knights and lords followed suit, charging at the enemy.

"(Take their heads! No mercy!!!)(In the Barbarian tongue)." The barbarian chiefs on the other side shouted and charged forward on their mounts.

"(Kill! Drink wine from their skulls!)" The other barbarians yelled and charged forward.

The two sides narrowed their distance until-

Clash* Clash* Clash* Clash* Clash* Clash* Clash* Clash*

Slash* Thrust* Stab*

Spalsh* Thud*

"Ah!!!"

"Gya!!!"

"Die!"

"Kill!"

"No mercy!"

"(For the ancestors!)"

"(Water the land with their blood!)"

"(For Honor!)"

A fierce melee started as both sides clashed. One side fought to defend their land, and the other fought for survival and food. It was a brutal battle of survival without room for mercy, only endless slaughter.

Amid the battle, Ewan slaughtered Barbarian after Barbarian as he advanced toward the enemy Chief.

Slash* Slash* Slash* Thud* Slash*

"Three. Four. Five. Six. Eight. Nine." Ewan emotionlessly counted the lives he reaped, sometimes even killing two in a swing.

This display of overwhelming martial prowess quickly caught the attention of the Chief and Lesser Shaman.

"(Kill Him!)" The Chief ordered the Lesser Shaman.

"(Ancestors, manifest my burning rage in pure destruction, Fireball!)" The Lesser Shaman cast a spell, sending a watermelon-sized fireball at Ewan.

"Useless," Ewan muttered, swinging his sword at the approaching fireball, his sword glowing with brown light.

Woosh*

Under the unbelieving eyes of the Chief and Lesser Shaman, Ewan split the fireball in half before charging in their direction.

When they saw the apathetic look in the opponent's eyes as he slaughtered their men while charging over, they shuddered, fear gripping their hearts.

"(D-Don't just stand there! Stop him!)" The Chief urged, but it was too late.

Woosh*

Ewan jumped from his horse's back, leaping over all the barbarians as he dived toward the Chief.

"(Dammit!)" The Chief raised his war axe and struck at Ewan.

Clang* Slash* Thud*

Ewan landed behind the Chief, who froze, his axe and head falling on the ground.

"Fourteen." Ewan emotionlessly declared and looked at the shaking Lesser Shaman.

"(M-Monster- GAH!)"

"Fifteen." Ewan extracted his sword from the Shaman's left chest.

He then looked at the other barbarians, who were demoralized and intimidated, and continued his culling.

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In the backlines-

Fladrinne overlooked the battlefield with apathetic eyes, the life and death of mortals meaningless to her. Her eyes were only on the Shaman and War Chiefs. Wasting her energy on anyone else could prove fatal.

"The battle is proceeding as expected, mistress." One of the female Grand Knights said.

"Hopefully, they won't warrant us to join the battle to even the scales." A male Grand Knight added.

"Once both sides sustain enough casualties, it would be our battlefield." The other female Grand Knight added.

Fladrinne didn't comment, only coldly evaluating the battle as men died every second in a brutal war of attrition.

Just then-

"Hm? The left flank is acting odd?" Another Grand Knight suddenly spoke.

The others glanced over and were speechless. The barbarians began to flee!

"What is going on there?" The first male Grand Knight curiously looked over.

"That man! He is slaughtering them like chickens."

"Who is that man? I don't remember there being another Grand Knight dispatched."

"Heh... It is that Cheeky Bastard." Fladrinne smirked. "Seems like he kept his word."

Then, her eyes looked over to the Barbarian side and noticed that their Shaman and War Chiefs also noticed the anomaly, sending a War Chief over.

"Things are about to get interesting." Fladrinne narrowed her eyes.

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Slash* Splat* Thud*

"100." Ewan emotionlessly said, bathed in barbarian blood, having killed the fourth Chief.

His breath was steady as he eyed the Lesser Shaman next to him.

"H-Hi!" The Lesser Shaman shook like a leaf.

Psh*

The man wet himself as he faced the grim-ripper incarnate. But that didn't help. A hand reached out, fast as a blur, clutching his neck.

Grab*

"G-Gah..."

Ewan grabbed the Lesser Shaman's neck, lifting him like a chick in the air.

"101." 

CRUNCH* Thud*

Ewan's cold eyes glared at the barbarians, ignoring the twitching corpse on the blood-soaked soil.

"(R-Retreat!)"

"(Monster!)"

"(Run!)"

No one knew who said it first, but it was like a chemical reaction, causing all the nearby barbarians to run for their lives.

"Milord! They are retreating! Shall we chase?!" Another lord rode over, killing a fleeing barbarian, and asked, panting.

In the hearts of all the men nearby, Ewan was now considered their boss, be it Yeoman or Lord, titles be damned.

"Ignore them! Support the flanks!" Ewan ordered.

"Yes, milord!" The lord thumped his chest and raised his sword. "Support the flanks!"

"Yeah!"

"Kill!"

"Slaughter the pigs!"

Ewan was about to join them when he suddenly turned to the enemy lines.

A large man accompanied by two Chiefs confidently walked over with a huge Warhammer. Ewan knew his identity from the decorations on his body and the strength he emanated.

The War Chief lifted his Warhammer, pointing it at Ewan as a universal sign of a challenge.

Ewan clenched his sword and hefted his shield.

"Finally, a real opponent." A hint of excitement flashed in his eyes, the desire to fight the strong.