A sudden burst of red light erupted from Gwynnis's fingertips, covering a one-meter radius around him. This time, after repeated practice, the lightning that shot out didn't spread erratically at its end; within one meter, it remained highly concentrated and precise.
Gwynnis's arm swept quickly, and within just a second, the enemies within half a circle around him were cut in half at the waist. The sudden loss of strength left their descending hands frozen mid-air.
Dizzy and seeing stars, Gwynnis rolled awkwardly on the ground, colliding with the standing legs of the Hafdan soldiers in front of him. He toppled their standing bodies and also dodged the axe that was coming down on him from behind.
The Hafdan soldiers, sliced in two, fell with a thud, burying Gwynnis underneath them, their blood spraying everywhere, drenching him.
However, the Hafdan soldiers behind did not retreat; they charged forward, yelling, aiming to deliver the final blow to Gwynnis.
At the critical moment, a warhorse galloped in, its massive impact knocking down one man, while a long spear thrust from the horse impaled another.
It was Jervis, who had circled around from the deer antler barriers after completing his task of luring the enemy, now charging down from the direction of the castle.
Another strong hand pulled Gwynnis out from the pile of corpses. Several men joined in, entangling with the opposing Hafdan soldiers.
Gwynnis was never fighting alone; he always had guards spontaneously following him, attentive to his every move, ready to step in.
At that moment, just a few meters away, the conscript soldiers were locked in intense combat with the Hafdan soldiers. No one was willing to step back; their eyes widened, screaming hoarsely, stabbing fiercely with their long spears at any Hafdan soldier trying to break through their ranks.
In the twenty-meter battlefield encircled by deer antlers, six hundred conscript soldiers formed several rows, blocking the entire area impenetrably. Anyone trying to break through their defense had to pass them first.
Gwynnis, initially at the forefront to inspire morale, now somewhat became a burden. The spear formation around him had to be careful not to accidentally hurt him, limiting their effectiveness.
Seeing this, Jervis dismounted, helping Gwynnis back to the rear of the spear formation for a temporary rest.
Gwynnis didn't refuse; using Red Thunder in the chaotic battlefield had drained him significantly, and his body was still struggling to cope.
As he passed, the spear formation automatically parted to let him through, then closed back up, forming an impenetrable wall.
Gwynnis had worried that his withdrawal from the front lines might demoralize the conscripts, but his concerns were unfounded.
Seeing Gwynnis covered in blood, the conscripts were even more inspired. If their lord could fight and bleed on the front lines, how could they, his subordinates, retreat?
Their thrusts became even more frenzied. For a time, the dense iron spears hit the Hafdan shields, preventing them from advancing a step further.
Watching his offensive stall, Broc was furious, his eyes bulging, veins on his forehead throbbing.
He bellowed, "Everyone! Form a shield wall!"
Under Broc's command, the battle-hardened Hafdan soldiers began to align in the chaotic battlefield.
They formed a dense human wall, tightly pressed against each other, their shields covering their legs, bodies, and heads, forming a solid, impenetrable wall.
All the long spears stabbing at the shields slid off, unable to inflict any harm.
Then, under Broc's direction, the Hafdan soldiers, chanting their battle cry, began to advance.
Despite the difficulty of moving and coordinating under the dense shield wall, the entire twenty-meter-long, head-high wall of shields began to move slowly under the unified chant of the Hafdan soldiers.
"Dong dong ho!" "Dong dong ho!" "Dong dong ho!" The Hafdan people chanted their rhythm, shouting angrily with every two steps forward. As they moved, their heavy and orderly footsteps, accompanied by their roars, echoed throughout the battlefield. The long spears of the conscript soldiers seemed feeble and powerless under the dense and solid shields of the Hafdan people.
Step by step, the shield wall was compressing the battlefield, closing the distance to the spear formation of the conscripts. From three meters to two, it took just a few seconds, and they were still advancing. It was foreseeable that once the Hafdan people closed in completely, it would be a one-sided massacre, axes against spears.
The conscripts, facing the relentless advance of the enemy, had to retreat to maintain space for their spear thrusts, causing their formation to become disorganized. They fought bravely without a trace of cowardice, but they were being forced back by the Hafdan people. Unfortunately, a spear formation naturally has a disadvantage against a shield wall, and there seemed no solution to this.
At least, Gwynnis couldn't think of any way to break through the Hafdan people's well-coordinated and impenetrable shield wall, trained through years of battle, using only long spears. Unless using hammers or large axes to smash through the shields directly, it was extremely difficult to even maintain their line, let alone break through the shield wall.
Indeed, relying solely on spears was not enough. As their own formation continued to retreat and become chaotic, unease and despair started to spread over the battlefield. They were not afraid of dying, but the imminent sense of defeat was unbearable.
Some started looking towards Gwynnis, hoping he would make a decision to turn the tide. However, Gwynnis seemed unconcerned. He remounted his horse, focusing his attention on something else. What could be more important than stopping the Hafdan people's advance?
There was something. Gwynnis's eyes widened as he calculated the Hafdan people's determination and will, the length of the deer antlers, and the enemy's reaction time. Finally, just before the spear formation was about to collapse, Gwynnis took a deep breath and shouted.
"Blow the horn!"
Jervis, by his side, immediately did as commanded, blowing the cow horn he had been carrying.
"Woo————"
The melodious sound of the horn echoed across the battlefield, confusing the Hafdan people. Why blow the horn now? It was neither the beginning of the battle nor a signal to retreat. Unless, were their opponents about to give up and flee?
Thinking this, the Hafdan people grew even more excited. Even Broc smiled with the anticipation of victory. However, just as the Hafdan people sensed an impending victory, horn sounds also came from the forests behind and beside them.