Ch. 127 Even facing the giant-like Wilden

Even facing the giant-like Wilden, they still gripped their weapons and surrounded him.

Looking at Wilden with his blood-stained twin swords, an Anglo-Saxon standing further back threw a javelin.

The javelin wasn’t fast, but it contained immense power; it was a weapon used frequently by Anglo-Saxons, Romans, and even Britons.

If nothing went wrong, this javelin, which was enough to pierce a deer’s body and pin it to the ground, could also pierce Wilden’s body.

Provided that Wilden stood perfectly still and wore no armor.

If Wilden wanted to, he could easily avoid the javelin at a speed these ordinary people, who lacked the protection of the Erdtree, could not react to.

But he realized there were people behind him, and he was currently at the front of the formation.

So he didn’t dodge, and the javelin struck his breastplate and was deflected.

This caused Wilden to pause for a moment.

It seemed he had still overestimated the arm strength of these ordinary people who had never seen the grace of the Erdtree.

Taking this opportunity, the three behind him overtook him.

Raiders were Raiders after all; those Anglo-Saxon barbarians who had sailed from the North Sea understood nothing of battle formations beyond individual bravery. They stood scattered, while the three distinct figures moved through them like fish in water, weaving flexibly among the Raiders.

And then, they slaughtered the barbarians with ease.

Whether it was Kay or Artoria, their combat skills were inherited from Sir Ector.

As Kay’s father and Artoria’s foster father, Sir Ector could not be an ordinary man to be entrusted with the heavy responsibility of raising the future King of Britain under the consensus of King Uther and Merlin.

As for Mia, she had been personally and kindly guided by Wilden for a long time.

No matter who it was, facing these Raiders who didn’t even count as an army, they were all capable of taking on many alone.

Those fellows couldn’t withstand an attack from any of the four, let alone Artoria, Mia, or Wilden.

Kay, who could suppress Artoria—the Red Dragon of Britain—during training, was naturally at the ceiling of normal human capability, even if Artoria was not yet at her historical prime.

The number of Raiders dwindled rapidly.

‘It’s just a piece of meat.’

After seeing the Anglo-Saxons’ atrocities, Artoria told herself this.

‘When they raise their slaughtering knives against ordinary people, they must also have the resolve to be killed by others.’

Granting them death was both justice and respect.

She swung her sword, and the patterned round shield held up by the Raider in front of her shattered with a bang. The Raider staggered back, and the girl gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands.

This was not a time for practice; this was a life-and-death battle fought in the name of a knight for the people of Britain. No matter the technique, she had to take one more step forward!

Step, forward, thrust. Relying on her physical advantage, the Raider whose shield had been smashed couldn’t react at all. The magnificent longsword pierced into the Raider’s soft throat.

One. More. Step!

Puchi—

The tip of the sword emerged from the back of his head.

Artoria pulled out her sword.

She didn’t spare the fallen Raider a second glance, for another enemy’s spear was already thrusting toward her.

The spear was over three meters long. The sword in the stone clanged against the spearhead, parrying it, but due to the principle of leverage, the Raider only needed to slightly move the end of the shaft for the tip to make a large movement.

Even if the target took two steps, the spearman only needed to effortlessly turn his wrist to adjust the direction of the spearhead.

The Raider retracted the spear and then shifted the angle to thrust it forward. Even with Artoria’s speed, it was difficult to bypass such an attack.

In cold weapon warfare, an inch longer means an inch stronger; this was an eternal truth.

If it were a short spear of about two meters, Artoria would have been confident in suppressing it.

Because long-pole weapons are different from swords, as the user grips the pole near the center rather than the handle at the end, a short spear only two meters long—not much taller than a person—does not have an attack range much longer than a sword.

But a true spear, over three meters long and twice the height of a man, is a different story.

However, the premise that “an extra inch of length brings an extra inch of strength” is that the spearman needs to face an enemy with armor similar to their own.

Seeing the spear tip thrusting towards her, Artoria simply raised her sword high, intentionally letting the point strike her body.

The spearhead slid off the smooth breastplate without even leaving a mark.

Artoria immediately took the opportunity to slash down; the sword light traced an arc, and the spearhead snapped away from the shaft.

Clang—the spear shaft, pushed aside by inertia, was pinned by the returning sword in the stone. Artoria’s footwork was as agile and elusive as ripples on water; the blade stayed pressed against the shaft as she moved forward.

After two or three steps, the Raider holding the spear was right before her eyes.

The sharp blade slid along the spear; the Raider couldn’t pull it away. The sword in the stone cleanly lopped off his fingers and pierced straight into his chest.

“Gah—ugh—”

The Raider’s heart was pierced, his muscles tensed, and blood spilled from his mouth.

The Knight Princess’s white dress was stained red with blood, but she had harvested another wicked life. She pulled out her sword and looked at the battlefield with an empty mind.

The corpses of the Raiders lay scattered across the ground.

An Anglo-Saxon, wearing a scale armor vest that glittered before the campfire, with long chainmail underneath.

He wore a spectacle helmet with a chainmail veil.

That guy seemed slightly stronger than the others, wielding a menacing two-handed axe.

“Come on!” he howled at the nearest Wilden, showing no fear of his opponent’s stature.

The Raider leader raised his axe high.

“The All-Father is watching me!” he roared, charging at Wilden.

Squelch—

A calm slash fell after the Raider’s axe swung wide.

Whether it was armor or flesh, everything was sliced in two under the Royal Army’s magnificent straight sword.

The blade sank in from the shoulder, deeply embedding itself into the Anglo-Saxon warrior’s ribs.

“Val… halla…”

Murmuring of a pagan heaven, the Raider leader died.

“Hah!”

Kay let out a shout; the Raider’s weapon in front of him was blocked by his shield, and Kay then cut off his hand.

As if he had done it many times before.

Immediately after, the Raider’s head flew high.

The helmet and the head made two distinct sounds as they hit the ground.

“That’s… the last one.”

Kay wiped the blood from his face and spoke while slightly panting.

After all, this was his first experience in actual combat.

“Yeah.”

Mia nodded, breathing in the scent of blood in the air.

By now, she was also someone who carried the weight of lives, and more than one.

But there wasn’t much discomfort; perhaps she had already adapted in other ways.

“Artoria!”

Mia shouted towards Artoria’s direction.

She was still standing blankly on the battlefield, only snapping back to her senses when she heard Mia’s call.

“Did we win?”

She asked, still a bit uncertain.