Chapter 314: Battle of Afton (IV)
Marching to the tight drum beats, George's hands holding the rifle were covered in sweat, and his heart seemed to be beating along with the drum beats. In addition to nervousness, he was more excited.

This was his first time on the battlefield.

He quit his job in the factory and handed over his original position to Howard, whom he trusted the most. With his status as a first-class citizen, he successfully became an infantryman after training.

In the training camp, George was always the most hardworking and fearless one. His ambition to climb up helped him to survive the most difficult tests, and he was promoted to the front-line troops by the hobgoblin commander.
He was originally only fit to serve as a reserve, responsible for some battlefield cleanup work.

“I’m going to be a real big shot.”

"Maybe. Today."

George thought so as he followed the soldiers in the front row.

The kingdom's infantry now adopted a dense column attack formation instead of the traditional horizontal formation, with a group of skirmishers as cover and lead.

The column emphasizes flexible offensive impact, quickly breaking through the enemy's defense line, and being able to quickly change positions, rather than the defensive firepower that the horizontal team emphasizes, which has firepower but moves slowly.

This style of play, characterized by columns and skirmishers, was not the original creation of Marshal Dolo of the Kingdom, but was summarized and applied by him and the kingdom's think tanks through the "Military Tactics of the Napoleonic Period" left by players. It has not yet been actually practiced on the battlefield.

As they were moving quickly, George suddenly felt the ground shaking slightly.

"That's--the cavalry?"

He couldn't help but turn his head and look into the distance.

The dull rumbling sound of horse hooves was heard, and a large number of heavily armored cavalry rushed towards the phalanx. They were like a torrent made of steel.

The armor gleamed in the sun, the spear tips flashed coldly like a forest, and the lion flags fluttered in the wind - these were the armored cavalry carefully trained by the Bosk family. In front of such cavalry, any traditional army would feel panic.

It’s a pity that the army of the Burning Kingdom is extraordinary.

The drumbeats became more rapid, George quickened his pace, and the trumpeter next to him blew a shrill blast.

"All troops, listen up! Form a square!"

The herald's voice sounded, and military flags were raised one after another.

Countless times of training and memories engraved in their bones enabled these well-trained infantrymen to form several thick square formations with mutual support and cross-fire in just a few minutes, and George also followed the soldiers in front and mixed in.

Because he was standing in the front row, George installed a bayonet according to the drill rules, and he was responsible for dealing with the close-range attacks of the cavalry.

These phalanxes were like moving bastions, moving slowly forward.

And those massive cavalrymen finally rushed to the front of the square formation, gunfire rang out, and smoke and the smell of blood filled the wasteland.

The cavalrymen fell one after another, and screams were heard. The heavy armor that they were so proud of was simply unable to withstand the bullets fired from the kingdom's most advanced semi-automatic rifles.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The gunshots came like waves, one after another, as if they would never stop.

The infantrymen only needed to lightly pull the bolt to fire the next shot. The precious cavalrymen fell one after another during the charge. At this moment, their lives were worthless.

While surrounded by the cavalry, Loren's expression under the mask was extremely painful.

"Why the hell is there no such tactic in the intelligence? How come they have such a formation?"

"And those guns, why aren't they loaded?"

If this was the original horizontal formation, perhaps the cavalry could still tear it apart. But these thick square formations supported each other, leaving a large gap in the middle.

If you attack one of the phalanxes, it will not only be difficult to break through, but you will also be hit by a tide of bullets from several other phalanxes because they have formed cross fire.

Loren had no way to deal with this and could only watch the cavalry he had carefully trained fall like harvested wheat.

The heavy cavalry attempted several more charges, but their previous attacks, which had always been successful and had made the enemy flee in panic, were like paper in front of the kingdom's infantry equipped with semi-automatic rifles and were completely vulnerable.

Under the protection of the guards, Loren led his heavy armored cavalry through the gaps between the phalanxes. At this moment, only one-third of their men were left. In front of them was the invincible monster army, and behind them was the infantry phalanx that brought them huge casualties.

This was different than he imagined.

In Loren's fantasy, he should lead the armored cavalry to charge into the group of monsters and engage in a fierce battle with them.

In the end, he would let the blood of his enemies stain his armor red, let the monsters' corpses pile up on the ground, and sacrifice himself heroically under the siege of the Burning Kingdom, thus creating another legend of the Lion of Bossk.

But now, he just rushed forward on his horse, and then passively accepted the baptism of bullets and suffered tragic casualties.

"No, this is definitely not the ending I want."

"My father won't be proud of me."

Thinking of this, Loren's eyes turned red, he raised his lance and roared:
"Charge with me!"

"Tear apart their formation!"

"Let these monsters see how powerful we Scanians are!"

Loren still set his target on those infantrymen. He wanted to burn his last life in exchange for a grand ending.

Around the square formation, the piles of corpses were already half a person's height. The hit horses and heavily armored knights fell to the ground, and the blood dyed the snow on the ground red, but Loren had already disregarded everything.

"Charge!" Loren roared again.

The remaining hundreds of cavalrymen seemed to be infected as well. They gathered around Loren and charged towards one of the phalanxes.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunfire whistled and bullets poured down like rain, and the front rows of soldiers fell down instantly.

Not only did they have to withstand the shooting from the front phalanx, but also the crossfire from the flank phalanx. It can be said that they were barely surviving in the hail of bullets.

But Loren had completely risked his life. He endured the huge casualties and treated the cavalry in the front row as consumables. He then rushed forward on horseback under the cover of his personal guards and actually got close to the phalanx.

"Suffer to death!"

Lauren roared loudly.

The black warhorse under him leaped up nimbly, jumped over the bodies of the cavalrymen, and was about to charge into the square formation.

"boom!"

With a gunshot, a bloody hole suddenly appeared on the horse's chest and it fell directly in front of the square formation.

Loren was caught off guard and fell heavily from his horse. He rolled several times on the ground and even his helmet fell off.

Loren, with disheveled hair and a ferocious face, drew the sword from his waist and struggled to get up from the ground.

The hobgoblins and tiefling infantrymen opened fire one after another, but the heavy armor on Loren's body was a treasure passed down from generation to generation in his family, worth thousands of gold coins. It was carefully made by the great wizard and had spell effects such as [Protection from Arrows], [Brute Force], [Lion's Roar], and [Glorious Shield].

Bosc's generals had worn it as they charged into battle, walked amidst the hail of swords, guns, and arrows, and led their soldiers to victory time and time again with the majestic roar of a lion.

As the complex magic patterns on it lit up, bullets were blocked by the glimmering barrier. There was also a faint lion roar coming from the gap. At this time, Loren, with disheveled hair and glaring eyes, really looked like the so-called "Lion of Bosc".

"Death!"

He thrust his sword forward, roared, and chopped off the head of the hobgoblin in front of him. He then turned around and slashed at the tiefling who was attacking him from behind. The sword blade drew a graceful arc in the air.

A cold light flashed and blood splattered.

The fighting skills that Loren had learned since childhood were fully demonstrated at this moment. This was the heroic ending he had expected!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

There was a whistling sound of dense gunfire. The power of bullets was far greater than that of arrows. Even the magic barrier became dimmer under each impact.

However, at this moment, Loren was already blood-thirsty. He laughed wildly and pointed his sword at the kingdom soldiers in front of him, ready to make his final declaration.

"We Bosque people will never surrender!"

"Monsters, the one standing before you is the descendant of Roselle Bosk—"

"boom!"

Before he could finish his words, Loren staggered forward suddenly. He felt a sharp pain in his back, as if he was hit by a heavy hammer and all the strength in his body was drained away in an instant.

He lowered his head with difficulty.

Sure enough, there was a huge bloody hole in his chest, piercing through his armor.

He was hopeless.

"How can it be?"

Lauren spat out a mouthful of blood and muttered to himself in disbelief.

It turned out that the moment he raised his sword, the force field barrier that had blocked hundreds of bullets finally couldn't bear the weight and was shattered into tiny magic particles, and the armor also shattered.

And someone behind him fired the final shot.

Loren used up his last bit of strength and staggered around, wanting to see who had killed him, the "Lion of Bosque".

Be it the strong hobgoblins, the devilish tieflings, or the brutal and greedy ogres, no matter who they are, they can all tell a story about a Bosk noble who died unyieldingly.

However, when he turned around, he suddenly found that the person who shot him to death was a skinny human. The human's face was flushed due to excessive excitement, and the muzzle of the rifle in his hand was still emitting white smoke.

Moreover, Loren saw a very familiar mark on his neck - it was the mark of serfs. Once branded with this mark, it meant that he and his descendants would always be lowly serfs and would never be able to turn over a new leaf.

"What to open."

"joke."

Lauren's eyes widened, and he fell straight to the ground. His hands and feet twitched a few times and then he became motionless.

Until his death, he still had his eyes open, staring straight at the sky, filled with doubts.

Until his death, Loren never figured out why he died at the hands of a lowly serf. This was a complete joke and would become a topic of conversation among the noble ladies after dinner.

　I wrote this for fun, mainly western fantasy

　　
　
(End of this chapter)