Our Family Has Fallen

Barton watched this scene unfold, a torrent of emotions surging within. Was defeat to descend upon me once again?

Why... why must you destroy everything I have?

You have already taken my... identity... honor... brothers... and made me commit such atrocities.

And now, just as I finally saw a glimmer of hope for redemption... do you seek to snatch even this from me?

Fear, regret, shame... these emotions tangled in his heart, igniting a fury that exploded in his brain. Drawing his military saber, he roared at the monsters.

"Then come on! You shall not advance another step until you kill me!"

The military saber, designed especially for slashing, exhibited terrifying lethality in Barton's hands. Wild dogs, hungry wolves, or mushroom creatures—none could come close.

Thanks to those trouble-making nobles, Barton's strengths were not limited to artillery. Don't forget, he once faced the alpha wolf and withstood a siege for some time before his defeat.

Yet, no matter how strong Barton was, what did it matter if he could kill ten, or even a hundred? It was only a matter of time before even a larger pebble would be swallowed by the waves...

The appearance of fire threw the monsters into disarray, and it was this turmoil that forced their hidden leader to reveal itself.

Reynard, who had been patiently observing from the periphery, finally understood the situation. His gaze locked onto a peculiarly-shaped monster among the horde.

At first, it was undetected. Its emaciated, stooped body hid amongst the others, its back covered with such dense yellow mushrooms that it was initially mistaken for some beast. Only when it stood up did it become conspicuous.

By some unknown method, it managed to calm the monsters. Then, overcoming their fear and craving for flesh, they changed their mode of attack.

The leader was positioned towards the rear. Relatively speaking, it wasn't in the absolute center, so fewer monsters surrounded it. However, even that number was not a target the mere dozen men of the Cavalry Squad dared to covet.

Although Reynard had found the leader, he felt powerless. Reason told him success was impossible; it would be better to preserve the precious Cavalry.

At that moment, the monsters changed their attack. The defending troops scattered to avoid the flames, stretching their line to surround the farm. This also dispersed the monsters' once cumbersome formation significantly, exposing their leader at the rear. Although some monsters still encircled it, the odds of a successful strike had greatly increased compared to before.

Reynard knew the only path to victory was to kill the monster leader. Otherwise, with the farm under siege and all soldiers lost, along with the food supplies, Hamlet's hope would be utterly extinguished.

Reynard let out a long sigh, as if he had made a momentous decision.

"This is a suicide mission. I won't force you. Anyone who doesn't wish to follow me may leave."

Reynard said no more. He silently drew the Champion's Proof and held it in his hand.

The Lord had entrusted Hamlet to him. Now that things had come to this, he felt he could not face his Lord.

Only a desperate gamble, a fight to the death, offered even a sliver of hope for Hamlet. If he could eliminate the leader, Hamlet might retain some chance. He was willing to lay down his life for that hope.

The cavalrymen also guessed their commander's intention. Fear was undeniable; the terror of death was etched deep in their instincts.

But there are always some who can overcome instinct and make what seems an irrational choice.

"There's nothing to fear. Hamlet needs me."

One cavalryman declared this, flicking his reins and urging his horse forward.

"Count me in. The Lord will look after my family."

"I'm in, too! It's time to win glory!"

"Enough talk, charge!"

...

There were no grand speeches, only simple statements conveying their emotions. Not a single one chose to leave.

"Good!" Reynard locked his gaze on the leader, then raised his sword and spurred his horse into a gallop.

"Cavalry Squad—Charge!"

At that moment, a small cavalry squad of just over a dozen men launched a desperate charge at the leader. They had all embraced death; no fear showed on their faces, only their target reflected in their eyes.

Kill the monster leader, rescue the besieged comrades, save Hamlet.

More specifically, their immediate task was to clear a path for Reynard.

They were insignificant on such a massive battlefield. The monster leader only noticed them as they drew near. Even then, the creature hardly bothered commanding the other monsters to intercept, as the hundreds already around it were more than enough.

It wasn't that the creature underestimated them; the squad was simply too weak.

"Kill!"

Reynard led the charge, his sword a flashing arc. Everyone pushed to their limits to get closer. But the monsters, though dull-witted, were too numerous. They were fearless against the charging warhorses, even daring to block them with their own bodies. The desperation of the situation was palpable.

The Cavalry Squad was like a spear thrust into a quagmire; each inch gained exacted a terrible price. Another cavalryman was dragged from his horse and vanished into the monster horde.

But the others had no time for grief or rescue. They could only press on, knowing that if they stopped, they would lose any chance to advance.

Yet the distance to the leader seemed only to widen. Despite their desperate efforts, they could not hide the fact that this "arrow" of a charge was rapidly disintegrating. It would likely vanish completely before reaching its target.

Soon, after a few more desperate advances, only Reynard still pressed forward. But he too was nearing his limit; he had yet to fully recover from a serious injury sustained not long ago.