Chapter Twelve: The Thunder Eagle Knights

Philip and Karl Liebknecht watched the scene ahead with grim expressions. They had deployed all their forces, leaving no reserves at all. Yet, to their shock, the once-proud Court Mage Corps and the three Holy Saints of the Light Church proved utterly ineffective against their opponents’ harassment and tactics. Even Maldeno was severely wounded by the enemy’s necromancers. This left Philip and Karl Liebknecht in utter disbelief—their opponents were so powerful. Without the support of the Court Mage Corps and the Light Church, they had no idea how the battle might unfold. But even now, the situation seemed increasingly unfavorable for Homer’s side.

That damned Holy Saint might as well die already—yet he refused to pass away, forcing another Holy Saint to take on the task of saving his dying life. This greatly strained their own mage forces. Onia and those three arrogant Light Knights were also firmly suppressed by two giant zombies, at risk of collapse at the slightest mistake. The masked holy maiden was somewhat skilled; with her full efforts, the Heavenly Holy Flame had made it difficult for the Black Knights to fight back. Perhaps with a little more time, they could destroy those undead completely.

But upon seeing the situation ahead, Philip and Karl’s hearts sank. The victory of the mage corps did not mean victory in the war—true victory would come from the triumph of the armies on the battlefield. Watching the overwhelming wave of magical attacks hit the knights’ camp, along with the infantry formations that followed and suffered the same fate, Philip and Karl were left helpless. They had thought they could use their powerful mage forces to deal a devastating blow to the enemy’s infantry, but now the situation had reversed. Instead, the Caucasus’ magical attacks fell on their own forces, while their mage forces were exhausted fighting off the undead.

Now, their only hope rested on the Resurrection Knights’ flank attack. If they could seize the opportunity to break through the Caucasus camp’s flanks and disrupt their formations, victory would still belong to Homer. But the question was: could the Resurrection Knights deliver that fatal blow? Why hadn’t they shown any sign yet?

Kuklin and Falken exchanged uncertain looks. More and more dark shadows circled in the sky—already over a dozen of them. Even without experience fighting barbarians, they realized this might be a secret weapon from those lower races. Encountering such a situation less than ten miles from the battlefield gave Kuklin an ominous premonition. Shouts from the west could already be faintly heard, indicating that the battle on the main battlefield had reached a fierce intensity. According to the plan, their Order of Rebirth Knights should launch a surprise attack from the flank while the enemy was unprepared, completely breaking through their flanking defenses and thus undermining the entire enemy line to win the war. But it seemed the enemy had already detected their plans—those growing numbers of dark shadows above proved it.

“Kuklin, be careful! Those flat-haired beasts seem to be forming ranks to attack!” Falken, who had been observing the movements of the eagles circling above, suddenly raised his voice. “Oh, gods bless me! There are people up there! There are actually people riding them?!”

Falken’s nervous voice made Kuklin’s heart pound as well. Falken was right—there indeed were people up there, fully armed warriors. By their attire, they were clearly barbarian warriors from the Caucasus. How could they tame such huge and fierce birds? What kind of birds were these?!

Before Kuklin could resolve his doubts, the first wave of attack from the sky suddenly launched!

Five giant birds spread their wings and flew in a “V” formation, diving downward at high speed. The knights of the order were already prepared, holding their guns at an angle to form a wall of spears pointed upward. If those flat-haired beasts dared to charge down, the knights could quickly raise their guns to meet them. With the combined force of their martial energy, they would show these overconfident beasts just what true bravery of the Order of Rebirth Knights entailed.

Sart’s eyes seemed to blaze with fury. With the main battlefield just ahead, they were blocked here by those flat-haired beasts, slowing down the order’s progress significantly. These few miles felt incredibly distant, leaving him helpless. All this was due to those two cowardly men before him. He wondered why Duke Zelin had chosen the coward Kuklin as the leader of the order. Sart always believed he was more qualified for the role, better able to uphold the dignity of knights who must not be offended or desecrated.

Müller calmly surveyed the sea of dark knights beneath him. Their composure and calmness made him realize that these knights were undoubtedly formidable opponents. Yet his responsibility was not to inflict heavy damage on them. General Fran had already sent orders to delay these enemies’ entry into the battlefield as much as possible, thereby buying time for his comrades on the main front—a task that was much easier, as he didn’t have to confront them head-on.

The five thunderbirds descended, creating a hurricane that swept up even the dry grass on the ground. The knights held onto their frightened warhorses tightly, staring calmly at the sky as they waited for the final strike.

Giant claws like massive anchors descended from beneath the thunderbirds. Their razor-sharp tips gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, while their enormous wings generated such strong winds that it was almost impossible to keep one’s eyes open. But for the Rebirth Knights, the real test lay in the final strike.

When the thunderbirds were only twenty feet above the knights, a furious cry echoed as the thunderbird knights threw their short axes. Four Rebirth Knights, caught off guard, were knocked off their horses instantly. The sudden acceleration and sharp axes left them with no chance of survival—none of the four knights even had time to cry out before falling. At the same time, five pairs of sharp, anchor-like claws struck from above!

Müller cautiously steered his thunderbird to the side, using its wings to dodge the combined attack from two knights wielding lances. The intense winds made his eyes hurt, startling him. The attacking power of these mortal knights was far stronger than he had expected. He had initially dismissed General Fran’s warnings, but now it was clear they were justified—though his realization came a bit too late.

Saat had already leaped up immediately. These flat-furred beasts were incredibly fast and agile. By the time he raised his lance, the enemy had already tried to escape sideways. But Seit, who had made up his mind, didn’t give them much of a chance. He thrust his lance forward, which suddenly emitted a blue glow. Following the direction in which the flat-furred beast was fleeing, Seit pressed firmly on the tail of his lance, which then vibrated and seemed to gain sudden momentum, accelerating rapidly toward the fleeing giant bird.

A shrill cry echoed across the fields as the knight’s spear pierced straight into the thunder roc’s body, even passing through the warrior on its back. The soaring thunder roc could only rise to a height of fifty feet before losing its strength and crashing to the ground like a boulder, sending feathers and grass blades flying into the air.

Coulkin and Falcon’s combined attack also killed another thunder roc before it could even emit a cry. The barbarian warriors who fell were pinned firmly to the ground by the knights’ spears. The brutal slaughter made the Rebirth Knights’ eyes turn red as well. Seeing their four comrades die silently, the pain and anger left them with no hesitation in continuing the fight.

Müller, who had soared into the sky, felt his heart break. He never expected the enemy to be so powerful. After one wave of attacks, three of his five thunder rocs were left, and out of the thirteen thunder rocs in the Caucasus, one-sixth had been lost! And this was only after a single encounter!

It was then that Müller truly understood how wise General Fran’s instructions before departure had been. He regretted ignoring them. Intense anger filled his chest, and he wished he could dive down again to fight to the death against the enemy. But as a leader, he quickly realized the danger of such impulsiveness. No matter how great the pain or humiliation, a leader must first consider the safety of the entire team—a principle Müller had firmly remembered since he was appointed to the Thunder Roc Knight Squad.

“Second team, third team, attack in turns. Keep a distance of fifty feet and do not approach the enemy! Our task is to hold them off!” Suppressing his inner pain and anger, Müller issued orders through gritted teeth.

Faced with such a cunning enemy, Coulkin realized how much his allies relied on his force on the main battlefield. It was clear that this aerial squad was aimed at his assault force, trying to slow him down. The situation on the battlefield was obvious, and what he needed to do now was to engage in battle before the enemy achieved their goals and shatter their delusions!

But in this situation, could his Rebirth Knight Squad still make a difference? At this point, Coulkin could only pray that the Homers could hold on a little longer.