Our Family Has Fallen
Chapter 87: War God_1

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: War God_1

The calls of the bandit leader set off a resonant response.

"Let’s do this, brothers!"

"Kill them all!"

"HAHAHA! Die, all of you!"

For a moment, the bandits, who had previously been dispirited and focused only on fleeing for their lives, erupted with intense ferocity, cackling as they raised their weapons and charged toward the spear formation.

"Don’t be afraid! Grip your spears tight."

Lance was overseeing the battle from the rear. The pressure he faced was anything but small; if the spear phalanx broke, his Armor would not stop so many people.

If these bandits managed to break free and scatter, completely exterminating them would become difficult.

Before even coming into close-quarters combat, the leader noticed Lance, who was especially conspicuous in his Armor, and immediately pulled out a pistol from his waist.

Then, with a BANG, he slumped to the side, fell over, and was trampled by the crowd.

Dismas, with eyes like a sharp hawk, scanned the battlefield; anyone who wanted to shoot had to go through him first.

And the answer was very simple: his gun would answer for him.

The leader was taken out in an instant, but no one was paying attention to his demise now; everyone charged toward Lance’s side of the spear formation.

"Kill!" Lance shouted angrily. Instinctively, his soldiers thrust their spears forward and let out a collective cry in response.

"Kill!"

Spears stood like a forest. On this narrow street, the bandits had nowhere to hide. Without any armor, their only options were to try blocking with their weapons or pushing through.

But you might push through one or two; you can’t push through ten.

Many of the bandits in front were pierced by spears and erupted into agonizing screams.

"Retract!" Lance commanded. The soldiers retracted their spears and then repeated the motion.

When facing a counterattack too fierce to withstand, Lance would have the spear formation step back a few paces, trading distance for the bandits’ lives, never giving them a chance to close in.

Suddenly, the soldiers seemed to realize the bandits were powerless. They didn’t have any long-range weaponry to harm them; meanwhile, their own spears easily penetrated any unarmored bandit, leaving serious injuries even if not fatal.

Confidence surged like a flood when the enemy began to crumble!

The more they fought, the more the bandits’ morale eroded, while the soldiers’ bravery grew, even acting on the offensive without needing commands from Lance.

Lance had chosen this final battleground to maximize his advantages while diminishing those of the bandits, confining the battle to a frontal engagement. With no threats from the flanks or rear, they merely needed to hold their spears steady. No matter how crazed the bandits acted or how loudly they screamed their battle cries, they were still like livestock awaiting slaughter.

Reynard and the others weren’t just standing idly by; a similar situation was unfolding on their end, further compressing the bandits’ room to maneuver.

But the bandits were not ordinary peasants. When they had killed their first person, human nature began to fade and their animal instincts grew.

Especially in such dire circumstances, they unleashed an overwhelming will to survive, relentlessly striking at the spear formation as if tireless.

It was true that few bandits wore Armor, but on their last plunder of towns and caravans, they had managed to loot quite a few valuable items. They could still cobble together a squad.

After another leader was taken out by Dismas, Number Three had slipped into the crowd.

And now, after lurking for a prolonged period, Number Three finally revealed himself, bringing out five or six armored bandits who then charged towards the spear formation simultaneously.

The spearmen, no longer harboring their earlier fear, bravely thrust their spears forward.

An ordinary person’s surge of strength is very brief; if they don’t know how to conserve energy, they can exhaust their stamina in just two or three moves. Even specialized physical training only prolongs it slightly.

However, these tense new recruits didn’t understand conserving strength. Every strike was delivered with all their might, leading to their energy being rapidly depleted, and their spear thrusts became feeble.

When the spearheads were blocked by armor, the new recruits’ flaws were laid bare, and the bandits’ counterattack began.

"Kill!"

These seasoned bandits, who had conserved their strength and used their fallen comrades’ bodies as cover, finally wore down the new recruits’ stamina. Shielded by their armor from the sharp spearheads, they forcibly squeezed through the formation. Some new recruits couldn’t even hold their weapons steady and were knocked to the ground by the surge.

While these new recruits could handle themselves in a fair-weather fight, their morale crumbled faster than that of the bandits at the first sign of setback, leading to a disordered retreat, with the slower ones ironically becoming targets in the ensuing chaos.

"Quick, save me!" cried a fallen recruit in panic, weeping and trying to get back on their feet.

Lacking combat experience, the new recruits didn’t realize this was a path to certain death. Any display of timidity would serve as fodder for the enemy.

As expected, the bandits found their breach and charged fearlessly forward, giving him no further chance as an axe came swinging towards him.

CLANG!

In that moment between life and death, a Longsword appeared before the recruit. He was then kicked away as a figure in Armor filled the breach.

"Hold the line!"

The deep command somehow bolstered the troops. A warm surge flowed through them all, invigorating their weary bodies.

Beholding the figure who had rushed forward, their cowardice and fear were instantly suppressed, as if merely standing beside him granted endless courage and strength.

"For Hamlet!" Lance bellowed, brandishing his Longsword and slashing directly at the bandits.

Before such a Great Sword, armor became feeble. Even if it blocked the sharp edge, it couldn’t withstand the tremendous transferred force, which inflicted serious injuries. Once a man fell, he stood no chance of survival.

The time Lance bought was enough for the new recruits to regroup. Under their captain’s orders, they quickly re-formed their tight spear formation, and the defensive line was secured once more.

But at this moment, their involvement became irrelevant.

Because Lance not only held the breach but, relying on his armor and ignoring the bandits’ attacks, charged alone into the enemy ranks.

Swinging his Longsword vigorously, no bandit he touched could stop him. They were either cleaved in two, or had their weapons knocked away before they too were split apart.

Even those wearing armor could not withstand his repeatedly strengthened brute force. A downward strike of his sword would leave them unconscious, if not dead.

He knew no fatigue. Unleashing Bless, and as its power was consumed, Lance, like a war god, shattered the veteran bandits’ assault and even drove them back.

In an era before firearms were widespread, an individual’s valor, if great enough, could indeed influence an entire battle. The fear in the bandits’ eyes was telling: to avoid Lance, they would rather charge the spear formation.

For that man represented death!

And the new recruits, witnessing Lord Lance’s slaughter, became valiant as well, bracing their spears with all their might, not allowing a single bandit to escape.

Seeing that their last desperate counterattack had been thwarted, Number Three, who had been lurking within, immediately drew his pistol upon realizing the tide had turned against them.

However, learning from a previous lesson, he did not raise it high but concealed it using the bodies of others and then pulled the trigger.

BANG!