Hyper-Dimensional Player

Chapter 245 - 124: The Living Legend! Conquering Scotland! (Double-Length)

A torrent of steel began to accelerate.

Even the legendary Knights of the Round Table under King Arthur were not as valiant, with Duncan leading the charge, fully armored, and even his warhorse was clad in heavy barding. The heavy cavalry behind him, each a mass of iron, didn’t even need shields as they charged directly through the enemy’s arrow rain.

Duncan raised the cursed spear in his hand and roared, "Follow me!"

"Crush them!"

The terrifying momentum even made Drest, who was commanding the battle from a distance, shudder. He frantically ordered, "Stop them!"

"Chieftain’s guard! Quick!"

"You, lead the chieftain’s guard and stop them immediately!"

At this moment, there was a dead silence around him.

Not only the chieftains were speechless, but even the chieftain’s guard beside him hesitated, overwhelmed by the enemy’s ferocious aura.

If they fought head-on like this, how many would die?

One of the chieftains whispered, "Let’s wait until they’re exhausted and then surround and kill the enemy elite!"

No time left.

It’s almost too late!

Drest was becoming frantic, having witnessed Duncan’s formidable bravery. If the enemy cavalry was allowed to charge, the entire right flank would collapse. They had to stop them, drag them into a muddy melee for any chance of victory.

A unit of four to five hundred heavy cavalry began to accelerate!

They were like runaway bulldozers, and as Duncan raised his lance at the front, the cavalry formation behind him changed accordingly.

—Wedge Array!

This was no longer just a hammer blow; it was a torrent of steel crushing everything.

Charge!

Duncan’s figure was like a god descending, the cursed spear in his hand leveled as he charged, piercing through enemies and their shields ahead, bodies thrown high in the air before crashing down heavily.

Sweeping through thousands!

The cursed spear in Duncan’s hand whirled wildly, and in mid-air, five or six Barbarian Race warriors were sent flying, crashing into their own ranks, and even impaled by their pikemen.

At this moment, the spear shot out like a dragon!

Duncan shook his spear, sweeping to the right, sending five or six enemies flying from his side. Then, with a reverse swing, he smashed to the left, shattering a Pict warrior’s shield, caving in his chest, spraying blood, and sending him flying several meters away.

He broke through the formation alone, tearing a gap over ten meters long on the battlefield. The airborne figures hadn’t even landed before a glint of cold light arrived, directly killing the Pict Black Sword Warrior ahead.

In the rear, Drest was dumbfounded, muttering, "Is this still human?"

Duncan spurred his horse, advancing rapidly.

Only after he broke the formation did the general guard behind him surge forward, leaving behind a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, with Pict warriors falling like harvested wheat, giving Drest no chance to react.

Three lines of defense on the right flank were breached, and Duncan had already charged over a hundred meters, almost breaking entirely through the first row.

The entire British Legion was in an uproar!

What valor is this!

What divine power is this!

Accompanied by the sound of galloping hooves, the torrent of steel swept past, scattering the Pict warriors into disarray. The first line of defense on the right flank crumbled instantly, with Duncan charging half a kilometer, piercing through the enemy’s entire right flank. Then, he turned his horse and stopped, with the heavy cavalry behind him regrouping, directly targeting Drest and his men not far away.

"Is he aiming to behead us?" a chieftain murmured.

Not good!

As soon as the words fell.

The torrent of steel moved again, equipped with excellent warhorses and remarkable endurance, and barely any casualties in their iron armor. With Duncan breaking through alone, when they surged forward, it was a massacre. Crowds pressed from all directions, and Pict warriors fled in panic, triggering chaos and even a massive rout.

"Five hundred cavalry crushed six thousand men head-on!..."

Drest felt darkness clouding his eyes, unsure how to command as the right flank had already collapsed massively.

Beside him, a Barbarian chieftain’s voice trembled, "He’s coming!"

"What do we do?"

"Retreat?"

This ghostly man was already charging towards them.

Retreat?

The entire legion would suffer a massive defeat.

Not retreat?

Could they withstand him? Would they all die here?

Drest gritted his teeth, drew the longsword from his waist, and roared, "We can’t retreat! Retreat and we’re finished!"

"Fight him!"

Drest led his men charging up, but after rushing dozens of meters, he turned in shock, as some of the chieftain’s guard remained where they were, unmoving.

Against an army, one can seize their general, but a man’s will cannot be seized.

They had been scared out of their wits!

Drest suddenly felt a wave of sadness, realizing the Pict era had ended. His anger flared, eyes red, and he shouted with clenched teeth, "Warriors, follow me!"

He was prepared to die in battle here.

Bang!

In the instant of collision with the heavy cavalry, the chieftain’s guard led by Drest was like a wave, disappearing in a blink. His figure was knocked off his horse, then a cloud-like dizziness enveloped him, being tossed aside single-handedly by that man.

"Tie him up!"

The familiar words made Drest involuntarily close his eyes, his face full of humiliation.

The torrent of steel roared through.

Duncan’s figure led the charge, and with every breath, seven or eight people fell from their horses. The Barbarian chieftains were stupefied with fear; some charged bravely but were instantly transformed into corpses with one spear thrust. Others fled, soon scattering with their chieftain guard.

Duncan killed one after another, slaying more than a dozen and beheading five or six Barbarian chieftains!

For those retreating chieftain guards, Duncan chose not to pursue them. He turned his horse, looking down on them, and directly charged the enemy’s central army from behind.

Five hundred men directly charging nearly ten thousand in the central army!

Yet facing the oncoming heavy cavalry, those Pict warriors who turned to fight the rear first showed fear. Once someone started to flee, the army resembled a wave, and the famously brave Pict Barbarian Race was thus routed, with fleeing soldiers covering the mountains and plains.

Duncan, at this point, had no idea how many he’d killed. The warhorse beneath him was panting heavily, and when he saw the Eagle Banner fluttering ahead, they had somehow managed to pierce through the enemy’s central army.

"Winning!"

"Victory!"

A chorus of cheers erupted as the British Legion began a full pursuit of the enemy, with the Pict coalition of over twenty tribes, totaling over twenty thousand soldiers, facing a complete rout after just one engagement.

This battle left them terrified, utterly lacking the courage to resist.

Duncan dismounted, covered head to toe in blood, unable to even recall how many enemies he’d slain. Behind his saddle hung half a bloody arm.

He said expressionlessly to Clegane beside him, "Surrender and you won’t be killed!"

"Send the light cavalry in pursuit."

When the first enemy legion began to surrender, a wave of noise erupted, and the area around the Antonine Wall was filled with surrendering Picts.

With a single battle, it was settled.

With such a staggering victory, the Barbarian Race in Scotland likely no longer had the courage to resist.

At the rear of the battlefield, the Crow Queen Triss’s enchanting eyes were filled with brilliance, her face full of admiration.

Beside her, Merlin remained silent for a long time. He had become numb to Duncan’s bravery, and even in his prophecies, he had never seen such a mighty figure.

This was like a mythical reflection in reality!

At this moment, Merlin even thought of the ancient Greek legend, the invulnerable Achilles, who alone charged back and forth in the Trojan War like Duncan, entering and leaving as he pleased. But Achilles was the offspring of a divine spirit and had an advantage, with his body soaked in the Nether River, while Duncan was truly born a mortal.

No.

He was no longer a mere mortal; he was a living myth!

.........