Chapter 629 Battle of Chalons 11

Virgil once said: War, terrible war.

He was a poet in the early days of the empire, a poet who was unconventional in the secular world. He was sober about the war because it was a pioneering and crazy era.

He believed that he had seen all kinds of war and witnessed the establishment of an unparalleled superpower. He seemed out of place among the conquering Romans, and not just because he was a Gaul.

In other words, if he could have seen a war of such a scale in later generations, he would probably have used a different tone to explain his words to describe this unprecedented bloody battle.

Hundreds of thousands of people were fighting frantically on this huge battlefield that stretched for kilometers.

In the frantic fight, Odoric was breathing heavily. The frequent killings had made him tired, and his whole body was shaking with exhaustion.

He drank the blood of Visgoth's enemies. His bloody mouth was slightly open, and bright red blood oozed out from between his teeth. This sticky blood flowed out from his lips and teeth, which made him look particularly hideous and terrifying.

Odoric, he, and his soldiers were all wild beasts in the forest, a pack of terrifying wolves. They howled with their hoarse voices, brandished weapons stained with blood and flesh, and left one twisted corpse after another on the ground.

"Let the soldiers reorganize the defense and let these barbarians waste their energy on gnawing on the shields!" Theoderic commanded.

The soldiers in front were already in chaos, but the soldiers behind them re-formed their shields into a shield wall and raised their spears.

The retreating Gothic soldiers passed through the gaps they left, until the advancing and attacking barbarians once again "hit a wall" and crashed into the shield wall that the Goths had reorganized.

Theoderic's soldiers never let him down, and once again they blocked the barbarians' tidal charge.

Theoderic was not in a hurry to ask his soldiers to fight back, although he clearly would not allow these barbarians who had never been exposed to civilization to show off their power so unscrupulously in front of him.

Theoderic did not give the order to attack immediately. He was still a little hesitant and frequently turned back to look at the Roman army that was still advancing.

What happened to Luca? He turned a blind eye to the bloody battle between his allies and continued to move closer and closer to Attila without any scruples.

"Terrible bastard." Theodoric looked at Luca, clenched his teeth and said fiercely: "You really don't intend to give yourself a chance to breathe. You put a rope around your neck, and then hold the other end of the rope and intend to put it around Attila's neck. This is a complete way of dying together. What is your purpose?"

After thinking for a long time, Theoderic could not help but shook his head, his face full of helplessness, and then he smiled bitterly and said to himself: "Okay, okay, Flavius ​​Luca, you are an unwilling lonely dancer, then let us dance with you and follow your steps!"

Although he didn't know why this crazy Augustus would risk everything on this, he was so eager to know the final result. It was fine this way. War was crazy in nature. Now that the choice had been made, let's go crazy together!

Theodoric lowered his head and saw the soldiers staring at him from below. They held battle axes and wore armor tightly. They looked like wolves ready to hunt, and their eyes were full of passion as they looked at Theodoric.

"Go, let these lawless barbarians know our cruelty!" Theoderic's eyes were frosty, and his words were plain but heavy.

The king's promise was the loudest trumpet call. The soldiers, eager to fight, raised their axes with cold light in their hands and roared loudly. They could not wait to start the massacre.

Odoric led his soldiers in pursuit, as the long battle had already left him out of breath.

"Hold on! Fight! Fight!"

Even though his hands were filled with lead and so heavy that he could not hold the blood-stained battle axe in his hands, he was like an exhausted bull, breathing heavily through his large nostrils, and every breath sounded like a roar.

In front of him, the Visigoths' reorganized shield wall was displayed, along with the dense spears. Odoric turned around and looked at the soldiers following him. Even though they were tired, they still followed their leader closely and advanced and retreated together.

He probably didn't expect that his soldiers would be so loyal. A warm feeling welled up in Odoric's heart. At least they knew what they were fighting for.

The various tribes, including the Altogoths and the Alemanni, once again approached the shield wall that the Goths had regrouped after retreating.

"Attack! Attack!"

Although his mouth was bitter and his throat was sweet, Odoric gritted his teeth and called on the soldiers to charge forward.

Just as the barbarians mustered up the courage to break through the Gothic soldiers' spears once again and were preparing to repeat the attack as before, tearing open the Visgothic line once again.

Unexpectedly, at the moment of their collision, a roar suddenly came from behind the Goths' shields, and a large group of people wearing only hard leather armor and holding battle axes in both hands fell from the sky into the barbarian army who had no time to react.

This group of crazy Visgoths waved their axes in the crowd and chopped off heads.

The sudden attack took the barbarian army by surprise. They saw the axe-wielding guys chopping down one after another, and the remaining soldiers had to keep retreating in order to avoid these deadly whirlwinds.

“Come back! Come back!”

The front-line officers called out to them, and when they were exhausted, the shield soldiers raised their shields and asked them to retreat. When the barbarian coalition forces that were chasing them rushed up again, they once again crashed into the solid shields.

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On the high ground, Diego looked around in the chaos. The cavalry of both sides were in disarray. He held a lance in his hand and stared with alert eyes at the Scythian cavalry that were shuttling back and forth around him.

They wore tall hats inlaid with iron plates and wielded their scimitars, slashing continuously like nimble fish swimming in the water.

Diego held the lance in both hands and gritted his teeth as he searched for his target among the cavalrymen moving back and forth.

At this moment, he spotted a Scythian, who also spotted him, and rode over, brandishing his scimitar above his head, charging at Diego.

Diego's eyes were fixed on the cavalryman rushing towards him. The moment the horse made contact with him, Diego roared, dodged to the side, raised his lance and thrust forward.

“Haha!”

The lance broke instantly, but the front half of the lance had already pierced the Scythian cavalryman, who instantly lost his strength and fell off his horse alone.

"We are surrounded! We are surrounded!"

Just as Diego breathed a sigh of relief after killing the guy, he suddenly heard the soldiers behind him exclaiming. It was Semitic, which he could understand.

His heart trembled, and when he turned around, he saw a rider coming towards him.

"Bang!"

Diego was knocked to the ground before he could even scream. Before he could react, a rope was put around his neck and tightened.

Diego was captured.

(End of this chapter)