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The horn of the allied beast clans blared, signaling the command.

"Kill!"

"Crush them!"

Dust billowed, and the earth trembled.

Satyrs played their pipes, inciting the monsters to greater frenzy with a magical symphony—a piece ironically taught by a bored player bard, "theMass."

With this grand, stirring melody filling the air, hordes of monstrous creatures charged the human forces—a truly ironic scene.

At the forefront, kobolds and goblins swarmed madly at the shielded "Talons of the Eagle" line.

Archers behind the shield-bearers launched volley after volley, injuring many of the dragon-blooded beasts before they even closed in.

Yet more kobolds and goblins pushed onward, trampling over fallen comrades, showing no fear and charging forward despite the rain of arrows.

But even those who reached the shield wall were skewered by spears with ease.

Under the relentless assault by kobolds and goblins, three hundred dragon-blooded hobgoblins marched in formation to the beat of drums, advancing in stoic silence.

The triumphant music only drove them further, and even if one fell to an arrow, another took their place without hesitation.

Thankfully, the hobgoblins wore leather armor and were protected by scales, so the losses from arrows were minimal.

When they were within fifty paces, the hobgoblins halted, raising their long-barreled weapons.

"Fire!"

Dolo bellowed with fervent rage.

"Bang!"

Gunfire roared as acrid smoke covered the battlefield, obscuring visibility.

On the coalition side, the light shields of the shield-bearers were punctured as though made of paper by the powerful bullets. Many soldiers fell, struck through their robes.

Enhanced with magical modifications by the machinist mages, the "Foe-Slayer Firearms" packed far more punch than traditional muskets, creating a thick smoke screen with each shot.

With just one volley, over two hundred of the "Talons of the Eagle" had fallen in the first line alone.

"Tempus above…"

"How could these creatures form such an army?"

Observing from the rear, Robert muttered in disbelief.

His view obscured by thick smoke, Robert could not see the hobgoblin musketeers reloading awkwardly, but his battlefield instincts told him that attacks of this magnitude required significant preparation.

"Northwind Winged Cavalry, prepare to charge!"

The messenger quickly relayed the signal to the front lines.

The winged cavalry donned heavy plate armor, carrying lances with the Gray Eagle banner, with wing-like adornments on their backs.

These wings weren’t merely ornamental; in a charge, they sliced the air, creating a shrill sound that spooked enemy mounts and struck fear into the enemy’s hearts.

"They won’t be able to hold against us."

Robert held firm confidence in his cavalry.

This cavalry had won countless battles, causing enemies to flee in terror at the sound of their wings.

"For the Duke—charge!"

Dust flew, and the ground shook.

Over four hundred winged cavalry charged across the plain, their wings shrieking as hooves pounded, drumming the earth with thunderous beats.

"Wind spells!"

Coalition mages conjured gusts, blowing away the smoke.

As the smoke cleared, however, the cavalry found themselves facing not only the reloading musketeers but also massive land-drakes.

"Roar—"

The land-drakes bellowed, their footsteps shaking the very ground.

Looking up at these hulking creatures, the once-confident cavalry now wore expressions of terror.

Warhorses, experienced as they were, whinnied in fear, some bucking and throwing their riders.

But they were already within thirty paces, too close to stop.

With no choice but to push forward, they braced themselves.

"Roar!"

A land-drake charged into their formation.

In mere moments, it crushed several riders beneath its claws, leaving mangled remains.

Many more collided into the beast’s enormous body, their lances piercing its rough skin but failing to go deeper. They could only watch as the towering creature barreled through them, plunging them into darkness.

Unable to contain his bloodlust any longer, Dolo himself took to the front.

Standing three meters tall, the dragon-blooded hobgoblin needed no armor; his bulging muscles were covered in scales that ordinary weapons could barely pierce.

He wielded a five-meter-long battle axe, the "Bloodfire Axe."

This giant axe, rumored to have taken twelve goblins to haul into camp, became a deadly weapon in Dolo’s powerful hands.

The dragon-blooded hobgoblin was a pure killing machine.

His eyes burned red, smoke billowed from his nostrils, and he leapt onto a land-drake with his axe in hand.

"Roar—"

"I’ll crush you all!"

The Bloodfire Axe whistled through the air, cutting down a cavalryman in a single stroke.

And it didn’t end there—the axe’s swing continued, killing three more, staining it with fresh blood.

"Yes…just like that."

Blood splattered across Dolo’s frenzied face. He licked it, savoring the taste of iron.

"Die!"

He raised the axe high, splitting another rider and horse cleanly in half.

Like a meat grinder, he swung his massive axe, slaughtering the cavalry with tireless ferocity. The winged cavalry fled like hunted sheep, evading the monstrous figure.

Meanwhile, the musketeer line had finished reloading and opened fire on the cavalry. Though they weren’t particularly accurate against moving targets, a number of riders were still struck down.

"Tempus above…"

"They really are monsters."

Observing the chaotic battle, Robert’s face grew tense, sweat trickling down his brow.

His prized winged cavalry was no match for these brutal, unrestrained creatures.

Now, he would have to reconsider his strategy.

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