The two sides of cavalry clashed with a roar, and the brown bear hunters again proved their worth by taking down a would-be knight and a cavalryman before the charge. The rest of the fray descended into brutal, bloody close-quarters combat, with each swing of the blade meeting flesh.

After dispatching a House of Welles quasi-knight, Richard found himself face-to-face with Tarth.

“I never thought you’d become a knight.”

“Is this the Hunter family’s confidence in battle?”

Tarth had kept an eye on Richard since the start of the fray, even though Richard had yet to ignite his fighting spirit. After witnessing the young man effortlessly dispatch a quasi-knight, Tarth could easily guess the truth.

Richard didn’t deny it; neither party was stupid, and he knew that this young man whose name he occasionally heard was indeed a knight. After all, few would dare engage in battle with him knowing his true identity.

The two raised their longswords simultaneously, eliciting a surge of green energy. The surrounding quasi-knight did their best to avoid the clash between these two, as no one wanted to interfere with such a higher level of combat.

Clang, clang

From the start, the two clashed as if their lives depended on it, clanging metal against metal with ear-piercing screeches. The two were evenly matched, both newly promoted knights, and exchanged blows evenly. However, if the stalemate continued, Richard would eventually secure a slight advantage, as their energy levels were about the same.

In the end, when their energy reserves ran dry, it would come down to physical prowess, and Richard might have the upper hand, thanks to his superior foundation. The Hunter family’s bestial Breathing Style was considered a top-tier technique; the House of Welles’s legacy, on the other hand, was only second-rate.

However, Richard despised this sensation. He firmly believed in the saying, “A wise man does not reside beneath permanent shelter.” If he could achieve victory with an army, he would never wish to engage in a one-on-one duel. It felt as though all his preparation and scheming had been reduced to him personally stepping onto the battlefield to fight a brute like Tarth.

Clang, clang.

After several more exchanges, both combatants’ energy levels weakened. They were both newly promoted knights, so their battle techniques and experience were about the same; reaching a deadlock was unsurprising.

On the other side, two old rivals, Viscount Souter and Viscount Wyll, also clashed. As veteran knights, their energy levels were significantly higher than their younger counterparts.

“Old tortoise Souter, I never expected you to sire such a son.”

Clearly, Viscount Wyll had noticed the ongoing duel between Richard and Tarth. Discovering that Richard was also a knight, Wyll felt a weight lift off his shoulders. This might have been the trump card of the Hunter family.

“Ha! Indeed, he’s much stronger than your own tortoise son,” Viscount Souter retorted.

The verbal sparring did not hinder their exchange of blows in the slightest, and it was clear neither could defeat the other in a short period of time.

“Hey, old tortoise Souter, let’s prolong this fight a little longer. Your brothers will be dead by then.”

Viscount Wyll continued to verbally spar with his opponent, as House of Welles dominated the battlefield. Both forces boasted around a hundred cavalrymen each, but House of Welles fielded more than ten quasi-knights with no one to keep them in check.

As soon as the two forces made contact, more than ten of the Hunter family’s men were knocked off their horses. Viscount Souter’s brothers received special attention, each falling under the combined assault of two or more quasi-knights.

This had been Viscount Wyll’s plan all along: stall Souter while Tarth took out Richard, then use the superior numbers of their quasi-knight squad to crush the Hunter family’s cavalry before joining forces to defeat Souter.

Of course, when Richard unexpectedly became a knight, the plan had deviated slightly, but Viscount Wyll saw this as a minor detail.

His quasi-knight squad could still easily crush the Hunter family’s cavalry, and when they joined forces, they would pose a significant threat to any knight, even under siege by twenty such fighters. After all, energy was finite, and even knights could be killed if overwhelmed.

The quasi-knight fighters must be fearless in the face of death, willing to sacrifice their lives to drain a knight’s energy, but Viscount Wyll never doubted the resolve of his brothers and relatives.

“Hmph, you should worry about yourself first.” Viscount Souter sped up his attacks.

“Heh,” Viscount Wyll sneered, seeing Souter’s rage as born of humiliation, merely delaying tactics.

On the other side, Richard and Tarth had exhausted their energy, and the fight had devolved into a contest of physical prowess. Richard was stronger, so he should have had the upper hand, but several of Viscount Wyll’s quasi-knight s had noticed their predicament and encroached upon them, leaving Richard in a perilous situation.

“You’re quite strong. If we continued fighting, I might lose, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” Seeing his fellow knights surrounding Richard, Tarth felt the pressure on him greatly reduced, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug.

“Is it?” A mocking smile tugged at Richard’s lips.

“Ron!”

“Kill!”

Ron, who had quietly approached, ignited his energy, dispatching the quasi-knight distracting him with a feigned fight in a single blow, then spurred his horse toward Tarth. Before long, Ron was within ten meters of the two adversaries.

Tarth noticed his predicament, but it was too late; his energy was depleted, and he could only despairingly raise his sword to block Ron’s inevitable strike.

Ron’s longsword, infused with energy, easily sliced Tarth’s knight sword in two, severing his right arm along with it. Before a shriek could leave Tarth’s lips, Ron impaled him through the chest. The suddenness of the attack was too much; the nearby quasi-knight reinforcements from the House of Welles arrived too late to save their comrade. In seconds, Ron had claimed Tarth’s life.

“Kill!”

After a brief moment of hesitation, the House of Welles’ quasi-knight reinforcements continued their attack on Richard. They displayed both fighting will and fighting smarts; if they had chosen to focus their efforts on killing Richard, who had already exhausted his energy reserves, they might have turned the tide.

“Fuck, we’re down to one-for-one exchanges now?”

Though Richard seemed to be in a sorry state under the onslaught, he could still barely hold his own. A few blows later, Ron arrived on the scene and dispatched the attacking quasi-knight reinforcements one by one.

A small vacuum of battle space formed around the duo, leaving only fallen knights, whinnying warhorses, and blood pooling in the snow.

“They are all brave warriors.”

“Heroes to you, but enemies to me.”

Ron nodded silently.

“Go help my father.”

Richard turned to join the fray on the other side of the battlefield; his current condition was ill-suited to continue fighting knights. The situation on the battlefield changed in an instant. After losing one knight and several quasi-knight, the House of Welles found itself at a disadvantage.

“Kill, kill!”

Viscount Wyll’s eyes were completely bloodshot, while Viscount Souter, who had long since switched from offensive to defensive maneuvers, had no intention of risking his life against a grieving Viscount Wyll, whose son had just been killed.