Chapter 646 Battle of Chalons 28

Huns, cunning Huns, they hunted their prey like African hounds, they rode their horses continuously, sometimes gathering together, sometimes dispersing.

Compared to other commanders, Golding seemed to be more skilled in maximizing the capabilities of these Hun archers, using a more flexible style of play that was more deadly and maddening than scattering arrows in groups.

The Roman soldiers under Aetius could only watch them dodge flexibly but were powerless to do anything. They could only grit their teeth and stare at the Huns galloping on their horses, holding their javelins tightly in their hands but to no avail.

This is why the Huns were able to capture the Germanic settlements north of the Rhine again and again and make them surrender under their horses' hooves. Because they were powerless against the flexible cavalry and the Huns' proud archery, and similarly, the people of the unified era were powerless.

The only thing that could stop them was a tall and solid city wall, so China in the east had the Great Wall, but this was in Rome, and there was no way to resist such an attack except the Rhine border wall.

"Dense array! Dense array!"

Andrew held up his shield and raised the iron sword in his hand and shouted loudly, but he heard a sharp whistling sound and Andrew withdrew his hand suddenly as if he had been electrocuted.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Andrew growled, then looked down at his right hand. There was a wound on his arm. Fortunately, the arrow just passed through it instead of piercing through it.

"Hold on! Hold on!"

Andrew still did not forget his duty, he raised his head and shouted loudly, watching the soldiers around him hold up their shields and form a huge tortoise shell formation around him.

The soldiers of other field regiments did the same. The archers behind them, using their raised shields as cover, would occasionally counterattack the Hun cavalry on the opposite side, but this was like shooting fish in the sea, with little effect.

"Da Da Da"

The arrows hit the shields and bounced off, making a crisp sound, just like a fist hitting the shield. Some arrows would pass through the gaps between the shields and land at the soldiers' feet or pierce the legs of the unlucky ones. The soldiers forming the tortoise shell formation endured such slight impacts while praying that the Hun cavalry would use up the arrows in their pockets as soon as possible.

Roman Luca's army formation.

The cavalry led by Luga finally stopped because they could not bear the resistance brought by the large number of barbaric soldiers. They threw away their lances and instead drew out iron swords or maces and other weapons and kept swinging them.

They were dressed in full armor and even wore ferocious masks on their faces, but their roars coming through the masks had a different tone, which frightened the barbarians present.

They were like ironclad fortresses, staring at the surging crowd that was slowly advancing forward.

The Roman soldiers, armed with shields and swords, inserted themselves into the gaps between them, using their shields to protect the cavalry so that they could continue to advance.

The barbarian soldiers in the rear who didn't know the truth saw the soldiers in front of them screaming and retreating, and kept muttering "Devil, devil, devil in full armor!"

For a moment, the army formation was disrupted, and fear spread among the crowd at an alarming speed like a virus. Soon, almost all the tens of thousands of barbarians in the entire army knew that the Romans had demons covered in armor that could not be cut down.

"Damn it! Hold on! Stand still!" Odoric roared, standing on a small mound and turning around to yell at his soldiers: "They are just Romans wearing heavy armor, why should we be afraid of them? Hold up your spears and axes and attack the Romans! Keep attacking!"

Visgothic Army.

Thorismond rode his horse and led the mighty Gothic cavalry to try to break through from the left side of the opposite Hun infantry, but they were blocked by the Hun archers who had run out of arrows.

Their thin clothes and sabers were no match for the Visgothic heavy cavalry. Following behind Torismon were Gothic nobles, whose armor could fully protect their safety.

A devastating attack quickly caused the Hun's archers to flee, and now there were no Huns who could stop the Visigoths.

"Kill them for me!"

Thorismon roared loudly, raised his lance and led his cavalry like waves to charge towards the undefended flank of the Hun infantry.

"Boom boom"

Thousands of horses' hooves trampled the ground, causing the earth to tremble slightly. The dust raised by the cavalry, like a tide, roared past like a huge wave.

For a moment, the roar of the Visigoths and the neighing of their horses drowned out the screams of the Hun infantry.

Then, one after another, the Hun phalanxes were overwhelmed by the roaring Visgoth cavalry. The fate of the "overwhelmed" Huns was naturally to be trampled to death by the war horses or chopped by the Goths on horseback with iron swords.

After a devastating attack, the powerful Visigoth cavalry even pushed the battle line to the middle of the Hun infantry.

The almost massacre-like attack made these mercenaries realize that money is far less important than life. Their battle line was completely torn apart, and along with it, their fighting spirit was torn apart as well.

Under the rumbling hooves of the Visigoths' horses, the Hun mercenaries cried and screamed, abandoning their armor and weapons and fleeing for their lives.

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"What's going on?"

Attila heard the roar of the Visigoths. He was now trapped in the sea of ​​Gothic infantry and could not extricate himself, so he was in a dilemma.

The roars and the cheers of the Goths at this time surprised him even more. Could it be that everything he didn't want to see appeared so clearly in front of him? "My king! My king!"

A bloody messenger rode up to Attila and said to him breathlessly: "We are defeated! Our infantry was defeated by the Gothic cavalry!"

"Isn't Theoderic dead?"

Attila roared and turned around to glare at the cavalrymen behind him. They all lowered their heads, not daring to look him in the eye.

"It is absolutely true, our king, Theoderic, is indeed dead!" Finally, a noble officer spoke, but such an answer also carried a huge risk.

"Then who else? Who among the Goths can integrate the army?" Attila was becoming more and more confused. The one-sided situation at this time made it impossible for him to remain calm. He began to become chattering and wanted to attack at all costs, but there were insurmountable waves in front of him.

"Thorismon, son of Theodoric."

"Torismon." Attila groaned for a moment and then said, "He is the Goth who led the Alans to attack the highlands."

This guy named Torismon is indeed no simple man. He is like a blade hidden in the dark among the Roman coalition forces, always giving Attila the most fatal blow at the most critical moment.

"Torimon! Torismon!" Attila repeated Torismon's name over and over again, gritting his teeth. One can imagine how much hatred he felt in his heart.

Attila knew that letting his soldiers take the risk of continuing the attack unconsciously was the most foolish decision. They had no chance of success, absolutely no chance.

(End of this chapter)