Marquis Roderick, trembling with fear at the sight of the battle, shouted at the messenger, "Tell those damned bastards up ahead! Get back here right now! Immediately!"

Just as the messenger left, the thunderous sound of horses' hooves came from the northeast of the battlefield.

Thirteen knights maintained a perfectly aligned battle line, with no horse lagging behind or leaning forward; their lances were held level at the same height, without any tremor, always pointing straight ahead; the horses' hooves moved in unison, with the same rhythm and amplitude.

After a brief moment of stunned disbelief at the bizarre scene, the company commanders of the Southern and Northern legions finally remembered their duties and shouted, "Archers!"

Hundreds of bows were raised, their arrowheads gleaming with the black light of iron, aimed at the charging knights.

"Release the arrows!"

With the sound of bowstrings piercing the air, a dense rain of arrows shot into the sky.

To everyone's surprise, the knights' horses accelerated, leaving the fallen arrows behind. The speed increased until the afterimages of the horses' hooves were no longer visible to the naked eye.

The distance of over 500 meters was covered in just over ten seconds. The archers didn't even have time to retreat back into their formation before they saw the warhorse appear before them.

With a loud bang.

The knights crashed into the legion like a burning hammer smashing into broken wood. A heavily armored infantryman wielding a tower shield was sent flying into the air, flying more than six meters backward, knocking down more than a dozen soldiers, before gliding to the feet of Marquis Roderick.

Harkins lightly patted his mount, and the horse leaped into the air. He jumped into the commander's guard, raised his lance, and swept it across, knocking four guard knights to the ground. Then, with a swift movement, he pulled the Silver Ring Alliance commander—Marquis Roderick—onto his horse…

——————————————

Forty minutes later.

On another part of the battlefield, Earl Emerson followed the supply wagon slowly forward. Suddenly, he noticed a group of distraught soldiers running past him.

The count grabbed one of them, and after recognizing him, shouted, "I remember you're from the Northern Legion! What are you doing?! This is desertion of duty!"

The soldier's eyes glazed over, and he muttered insanely, "They ride warhorses from hell, with boundless strength, unkillable by crossbows or spears..."

The soldier grabbed the count's arm, stared into his eyes, and growled repeatedly, "Monster! The monster is coming!"

Earl Emerson pushed the other man aside, looked into the distance, and shouted, "Everyone, listen to my command! Push down the wagons and form a wagon formation! Archers in the center, spearmen on the outside."

The soldiers in the rear of the allied forces quickly sprang into action. They pulled the wagons loaded with supplies to a position where they were connected, and several men together pushed the wagons over, forming a "circular fortress".

More and more soldiers fled from the front lines. At Count Emerson's loud call, some joined the "circular formation," but many more, having lost their will to fight, simply ran away from the battlefield.

Emerson glanced at the soldiers around him; each of them wore a look of fear and unease. He calmly stroked his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, but in his mind he was pondering what had happened on the battlefield ahead.

Finally, an infantry square appeared on the distant horizon. Emerson squinted and looked at the commander's position; the armor and the horse seemed familiar.

As the infantry regiment drew closer, their commander removed his helmet, and the count finally saw someone he knew all too well.

"Cumberland..."

The elderly man, with a full head of silver hair and covered in blood from head to toe, stared blankly at the familiar face in the "caravan" for a moment before uttering, "Lord Emerson?"

Two old men, who were once boss and subordinate, meet again on the battlefield in a dramatic way.

"The affair between Queen Mary and Knight Commander Herman was a mistake made by the kingdom."

To Cumberland's surprise, the Earl of Emerson's first words were these.

The old knight's face remained calm: "That's all in the past, and I don't want to bring it up on the battlefield. We know each other so well, why not skip all that nonsense about trying to persuade us to surrender?"

“I agree.” Emerson took the helmet handed to him by his subordinate.

Cumberland commanded his troops to advance, and being familiar with the enemy's tactics, he launched several probing attacks.

As he expected, the Earl had defended the entire "Wheel Fortress" impenetrably, with bows, crossbows, and spears forming several layers of attack. In addition, the wagons were already carrying the Silver Ring Alliance's supplies and provisions, with food, water, and ammunition inexhaustible. If Emerson wished, he could even set up tents and build camps inside the "Wheel Fortress" and garrison there for an extended period.

Cumberland frowned as he looked at the densely packed arrow fletching stuck in his shields and ordered his troops to retreat, muttering under his breath, "Old turtle..."

"My lord, the enemy has retreated!"

Hearing his subordinates' joyful shouts, Emerson's face showed no relief: "If the enemy has flammable materials or hastily constructed siege equipment, this 'chariot formation' will be difficult to defend. All I can do now is buy time so that more people can escape back to the capital..."

Before the count could finish speaking, a cheer suddenly erupted from the enemy camp.

Thirteen knights appeared in the distance, their armor covered with wounds of varying sizes. Their postures were less like a charge and more like a military parade.

Just then, the soldiers who had fled from the front of the "vehicle formation" lowered their weapons and retreated in fear. Emerson realized that the "monster" they had been talking about had appeared...

Soon, the Earl witnessed firsthand how terrifying these knights were. Arrows, crossbow bolts, and spears pierced their armor but caused no damage. These enemies, possessing immense strength, could even grab spears and drag their own soldiers out of the 'chariot formation' alive.

Seeing that several knights had nearly smashed the carriage to pieces, Emerson had no choice but to take a desperate gamble and use his last weapon: "Throw out the kerosene canisters! Set them on fire!"

Accompanied by a pungent odor and scorching flames, a two-meter-high wall of fire rose in front of the chariot formation. The knights' warhorses, startled by the intense fire, reared up and neighed as they retreated.

Just when the defenders thought they could breathe a sigh of relief, the captain of the thirteen knights dismounted and, under the watchful eyes of everyone on the battlefield, approached the wall of fire. He knelt on one knee, stretched out his hands to the burning ground, and the towering flames instantly subsided.

The dumbfounded soldier looked at Earl Emerson, whose face was deathly pale: "My lord, what should we do?"

The old man smiled bitterly and said, "What else can we do? Surrender..."