Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 436 - 62 Confiscation of Property

Chapter 436: Chapter 62 Confiscation of Property

Spooked horses galloped chaotically through the camp, toppling tents like a raging storm.

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Dog barks, hoofbeats, whinnies, human shouts, and the tearing of fabric… Thousands of sounds erupted together, turning the Herders’ camp into utter chaos.

Sporadic bonfires were lit, only to be swiftly extinguished, plunging the camp back into darkness.

Winters dragged the little Hunter along as he ran; several disheveled Herders crashed into them.

One of the shirtless Herders, furious, bellowed, ” What are you running for? Round up the horses! Which one of you is the head?”

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Winters couldn’t understand what the other was saying, nor could he wait for the little Hunter to speak.

“Close your eyes!” He pulled the little Hunter behind him, crushed a glass vial in his hand, and unleashed a Flash Spell at the Herders.

The container shattered, and the moment the reactive metal powder inside made contact with air, it was ignited by the magic, instantly bursting into blinding white light.

This light was brighter than lightning, more dazzling than the sun, causing the Herders to scream and shield their eyes in agony.

The shirtless Herder fell to the ground, still shouting, ” Enemies! They’re enemies! Someone come!”

The retinas of the Herders were possibly permanently damaged by the intense light, but they no longer had to worry about that.

Winters, with sword in hand, charged among the Herders, aiming for their weak points; the Herders, unable to see, were powerless to resist.

All but one, who scrambled into the tents, were slain.

“Go!” With no time to chase the fleeing foe, Winters led the little Hunter outside the camp.

The leather of his gloves had been burned through by the Flash Spell, and he could smell a distinct burnt odor. His palm throbbed painfully, but he was unsure whether it was from being cut by the glass or scorched by the alchemical substance.

At the barricade formed by the wagons, the Paratu spearmen and halberdiers were locked in combat with about twenty Herders.

There were well-armored Herder sentinels, as well as Herders who had just woken from their sleep, grabbing their curved swords to join the fray.

A Herd Barbarian, towering like a steel tower, fought ferociously, shouting and swinging two curved swords, completely nude.

When his curved sword was knocked away, he grabbed a spear instead and surged through the crowd with terrifying momentum.

In an era where the average height of a farmer was barely over 1.6 meters, this barbarian stood a staggering two meters tall, with a form as sturdy as a tiger’s back and a bear’s waist—it was unfathomable what he ate to grow so big.

Surrounding Paratu militiamen seemed like dwarfs in his presence; for a moment, no one could get close to him.

” Come on!” The burly barbarian, spinning his long spear, crushed a militiaman’s head, spraying brains everywhere, and roared, ” Come on!”

An Ish from Ganshui Town, biting on his bridle, maneuvered behind the giant and struck toward his lower back with his spear at the right moment.

With a full-force charge, the spearhead sank deeply into flesh.

The giant turned in disbelief to look at Ish, struggling to lift his arm.

Seeing his opponent not yet dead, Ish froze on the spot, looking set to meet his end along with the giant.

Then, six militiamen converged from the west, stabbing at the giant from all sides, joining forces to bring down the formidable Herd warrior.

The Herders, witnessing this scene, lamented loudly. They were too few in number and were quickly swept away by the militiamen.

The Herders’ archers, shooting cold arrows from the ramparts, also fell one after another.

Having dealt with the archers, Winters leapt onto a wagon, tore off his helmet, and raised his curved sword high.

“Uukhai!” The cheers of the Paratu People soared to the heavens.

With nothing in their way, they cut the ropes, dragged away the wagons, tearing an opening through the wall.

Xial ran over to tie a white cloth around Winters’s left arm, marking friend from foe amidst the mix of militia armor.

When Xial saw Winters’s hand dripping blood, he pulled out a clean cloth, wanting to bandage Winters.

Winters shrugged off Xial and bellowed, “The flag!”

The gendarme Heinrich handed the flag to the Centurion,

“Torch!”

Everyone lit their torches in succession.

“Attack!”

Winters led two companies into the Herders’ camp, setting it ablaze everywhere they went. They didn’t have much for starting fires, but in this season, everything was flammable.

The fire grew with the wind, and the flames roared from west to east, engulfing the whole camp.

The Herders were still desperately trying to drive the spooked horses out of the camp when they suddenly noticed a fire in the west. Chilling war cries echoed throughout the camp, as though an overwhelming force was attacking.

Night battles are inherently messy and chaotic—the defenders’ command system finally collapsed completely.

One person began to flee, and soon every Herder was scrambling for horses, desperately trying to escape.

Those who still had their wits about them tried to regroup, but no one heeded them; those who still had courage attempted to counterattack but were surrounded and killed by the enemy.

The Paratu People’s method of communication was simple and crude: the drumming continued, so the battle continued; where the flag went, the soldiers followed.

Winters tied a torch to the top of the flagpole, leading his men to rampage through the camp.

Meanwhile, Colonel Jeska and Lieutenant Mason led the other four companies, stationed outside the camp, to ambush and kill any fleeing Herders who made it past the encampment.

Colonel Jeska called it “Hunt Strategy.” Montaigne’s squad, like hounds flushing out waterfowl, created chaos and drove the Herders from the camp, while the real ambush lay with the four squads hidden outside.

Had all six companies attacked the camp, they would not have been able to deploy effectively, and the other four squads were not as capable and reliable as Winters’s men, who moved at his command like an extension of his own limbs.

The blaze grew fiercer, enveloping the entire camp in thick smoke.

Winters stood still, surveying his surroundings; around him, no living Herder could be seen.

When the flag stopped, the militiamen also gradually began to gather.

Heinrich’s eyes were bloodshot and streaming with tears from the smoke; rubbing his eyes, he said, “Seems like there’s no one left, Sir.”

Winters patted the drummer’s shoulder, and the drumming ceased.