Chapter Thirteen: A Lone Rider Breaks the Formation!

With a guide, the journey ahead became much easier.

Duncan and his party spent three days crossing the war zone to reach Upper Germania, roughly located around the middle Rhine River, covering parts of western Switzerland and France. This area had long been a battleground. Although the Empire had not abandoned Lower Germania, it was unable to fully control the region, which was frequently raided by the barbarian tribes of Greater Germania.

(In 410 AD, the Roman Empire withdrew its last legion from Britain, leading to the abandonment of the province there. By then, the defense system of Lower Germania was already stretched thin.)

Greater Germania lay east of the Rhine, encompassing what is now Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Austria, and Hungary.

After conquering Lower Germania, the Romans divided it into the provinces of Upper and Lower Germania, stationing troops along the borders to defend against northern barbarian incursions.

Severus, being of barbarian origin and a Druid with his own network in Gaul and Germania, served as their guide. With him leading the way, Duncan and the witch avoided many unnecessary troubles, even managing to pass through the war-torn region of Raetia via a hidden route.

Now, the entire map of Europe was in chaos, teeming with barbarians, rebels, bandits, Hunnic raiders, Gothic mercenaries, Frankish soldiers of fortune, and more.

The situation rivaled the ancient period of the Five Barbarians plundering China.

"This is truly an age where human life is as worthless as grass!"

Duncan stood atop a hill, gazing at the distant plains where two armies clashed. The battle was not large—perhaps one or two thousand warriors—a localized skirmish, likely the Empire’s attempt to reclaim parts of the Rhine region.

"My special abilities are powerful, but against an army, I’m really helpless."

"If Europe weren’t such a mess, I could have spent time farming bandits, rebels, and Hunnic raiders to grow stronger first."

Since his arrival, Duncan had rarely encountered lone enemies. Initially, he had met three fleeing soldiers, but subsequent foes came in double digits. With his current strength, facing ten enemies at once was highly risky, and any injury would put him at a severe disadvantage.

If he fought, he had to remain unscathed; injury or disability would mean doom.

Through conversations with the Druid, Duncan learned rumors of "trolls"—cannibalistic creatures from Norse mythology, endowed with tremendous vitality and the ability to regenerate.

Such an ability held immense strategic value for Duncan!

In the dense forest, Severus appeared, his expression grave.

"I’ve just received news: Lower Pannonia has fallen."

"Shortly after you left, the Hunnic vanguard seized it."

"The Scourge of God—Attila—leads half a million troops westward!"

Half a million?

Duncan knew ancient armies often exaggerated numbers, but even with some reduction, tens of thousands were still involved. On such a vast battlefield, even encountering a single scouting unit could spell danger. The safest strategy was to avoid the core conflict zones until he had fully grown in power.

The witch, Triss, said nothing; she seemed unsurprised by the Hunnic invasion.

Duncan looked toward the battlefield and asked in a low voice, "Should we wait for them to finish before we move on?"

Severus replied sternly, "The borders are sealed, and the Empire plans to adopt a scorched-earth policy. We’ll have to travel through uninhabited lands."

After a moment’s thought, Duncan said, "Wait here nearby. I’ll find some good horses."

This was a risky move.

The Raven Queen, Triss, stood up instantly, her eyes fixed on him. "No, that’s too dangerous!"

Severus frowned, looking toward the battlefield, shocked. "You intend to steal their horses?"

Duncan remained calm. "Don’t worry, I’m confident."

"If it’s impossible, I’ll come back immediately."

Triss’s face was full of concern, and Severus looked serious, yet judging by Duncan’s expression, this man was bold and skilled.

In the end, neither could stop Duncan from acting on his own accord.

The witch stepped forward and handed him a rune stone that resembled a moon, softly saying, "Be careful."

—Diana’s Emblem [Relic] [Unknown]!

Hmm?

From the divine perspective, Duncan examined the rune stone curiously; it was the first piece of equipment he had seen named a ‘Relic.’

—Diana’s Emblem [Relic]: The emblem of Diana, the Roman goddess of the moon and oak tree, blessed by her priestesses. It grants the bearer the favor of Diana’s protection. Additional ability: ‘Heroic Fortune.’ [Note: Heroes of myth were always under divine protection.]

A relic that boosts luck?

Duncan accepted it without hesitation and kept it close.

He waved to the witch behind him and entered the dense forest without looking back.

Damn this chaotic era.

Duncan and the witch had spent two days in the mountains seeking a reclusive Druid, only to have their mounts forcibly requisitioned by the Empire’s troops.

They paid a symbolic sum of five denarii to the innkeeper who cared for the horses, and also seized the cattle and sheep near their village.

The Empire’s treasury was on the verge of collapse.

Of course, large estates and landlords had already emerged within the Empire, owning vast lands and serfs, shifting toward medieval feudalism. But imperial tax collectors dared not demand money from these nobles, instead squeezing the common folk even harder.

The peasants here were treated equally badly, with Roman freemen dwindling and barbarian peasants rising in revolt under oppression.

The Empire’s ruthless exploitation of all lowly subjects was unsustainable.

"Expand the battlefield map!"

Operating alone, Duncan needed not hesitate: if he could win, he fought; if not, he fled. Perhaps he could pick off a few cavalrymen with surprise arrows, or scavenge some riderless horses at the battlefield’s edge.

Since the Empire had taken his mounts, he intended to settle the score.

The armies clashing on the plain were a complex mix, as Duncan’s divine sight revealed numerous factions.

—Imperial Field Army (1-star).

—Imperial Border Troops.

—Frankish Mercenaries (1-star).

—Kingdom of the Visigoths’ Cavalry.

—Germanic Mercenaries.

These were the Empire’s forces, reassembled after a rout. The Visigoths had allied with the Empire against the Hunnic Empire, with roughly a hundred cavalry engaged.

The opposing forces were equally diverse.

—Alans Servant Troops.

—Ostrogothic Servant Cavalry.

—Frankish Mercenaries (1-star).

—Hunnic Elite Cavalry (1-star).

—Germanic Barbarian Servant Troops.

The Hunnic forces were few, mostly composed of other barbarian troops they had conquered and enslaved. Among them, the Frankish mercenaries were the fiercest, their equipment and spirit evenly matched on the field.

Since the Hunnic conquest, the pro-Roman Franks who submitted to Attila, the Scourge of God, were a thorn in his side.

"There are hardly any Romans on the battlefield."

The Franks were barbarians, the Visigothic kingdom was founded by barbarians, the Germanic mercenaries all fought for the Empire but were barbarian in origin, and the border troops were mostly frontier barbarians. Even the best-trained Imperial Field Army was over fifty percent barbarian by birth.

The Field Army was renowned for its high pay—double or triple that of the border troops—but it dissolved when the Empire went bankrupt, only recently being partially reformed.

Yet the situation on the field was grim.

The best-equipped Imperial Field Army soldiers, clad in scale armor and shields, wielding short swords and spears, fully armored from head to toe, were outmatched on the front lines by a horde of barbarian servant troops, even showing signs of collapse on the right flank.

"The morale is terrible."

Duncan’s divine sight showed morale indicators: the Imperial Field Army bore a glaring ‘low morale’ tag.

In contrast, the Frankish mercenaries displayed ‘high morale,’ the Germanic mercenaries were ‘average but willing to fight,’ and the Visigoth kingdom, known for their fierce fighting spirit and whose king had died charging, showed generally good morale.

Across the battlefield, only the Imperial Field Army and border troops exhibited poor morale.

"Looks like the divine sight has strategic functions."

Duncan focused on the units and noticed additional tags: the Imperial Field Army was marked ‘unpaid,’ the border troops ‘disorganized,’ while the high-morale Frankish mercenaries were ‘fighting to defend their homes.’

This area would later become part of France, where the Franks established their own kingdom during the Empire’s decline.

"This morale is worse than the Roman Legion’s youth troops in antiquity!"

Duncan circled to the rear right flank, where the well-equipped Imperial Field Army cowered, unwilling to advance. The Frankish mercenaries bore the brunt of the enemy’s assault, while Visigoth cavalry clashed fiercely with the Huns, suffering heavy casualties. The Hunnic elite cavalry were extraordinarily fierce.

"When the Han fought the Xiongnu, they too suffered grievous losses."

Ancient nomads had mastered horseback riding before walking; the Hunnic cavalry excelled at mounted archery and mounted combat, dominating the field.

There were exceptions.

One unit marked ‘Visigoth Noble Knights,’ with a silver one-star emblem, charged and unseated a Hunnic rider.

These were former barbarian chieftains’ guards who had become the Visigothic nobility.

Duncan whistled sharply.

Soon, at the battlefield’s edge, a riderless warhorse lifted its head and trotted toward him. Duncan leapt up agilely, mounting like a seasoned nomad.

—Summon Warhorse [Horsemanship Branch]: You can whistle to summon nearby unclaimed warhorses, with a chance they will approach. The higher your horsemanship, the greater the chance. (Druid skills further enhance this ability.)

This was a skill Duncan had acquired from the Hunnic mounted archers.

Mounted, he approached the chaotic cavalry fight on the right flank, where collapse would mean total defeat for the Empire.

He had come this far.

It would be a waste not to kill a few.

He nocked an arrow, aimed at a Gothic servant cavalryman, and released. The arrow flew true, unseating the enemy, who was then trampled to death in the mêlée.

One kill!

The battlefield was chaotic; few noticed Duncan’s presence. The mixed Empire troops mistook him for an ally.

He took full advantage of the confusion.

Two kills!

Another arrow struck an Alan servant cavalryman, who was knocked off and fatally pierced by a Visigoth lance.

Duncan moved swiftly on horseback, ever wary of the Hunnic archers on the map. He fired again, unhorsing an armored Imperial cavalryman trying to flee.

Three kills!

That one was semi-accidental—the enemy’s head entered his crosshair, and Duncan instinctively shot for the head.

The man’s morale had broken; he tried to escape.

With the chaotic battlefield, nobody could tell where stray arrows came from.

Duncan mainly targeted Hunnic and barbarian troops; accidentally killing a few Imperial cavalrymen was collateral.

His sudden presence shifted the Empire’s right flank. Over a dozen Hunnic riders gave chase, but Duncan kicked his horse into a gallop and fled beyond their range.

“The Mounted Archer skill has boosted me immensely!”

His horsemanship now rivaled elite Hunnic riders.

He aimed carefully.

—Parthian Shot!

A forty-five-degree arc shot struck a Hunnic rider in the chest, unseating him to his death.

“Mounted Archer!?” (Hunnic)

This term referred to a sharpshooter, a highly respected rank in the Hunnic Empire.

Four kills!

Duncan calmly controlled his mount and fired again, a Parthian Shot aimed perfectly at the crosshair, headshotting another elite Hunnic rider.

The Huns grew wary and sent a small squad of Gothic servant cavalry to pursue him.

“Isn’t this just handing me kills?” Duncan grinned.

Ostrogoth servant cavalry carried shields and lances but rarely bows; their horsemanship was inferior to his.

With divine sight, Duncan could not lose track or get surrounded; every enemy near him was counted.

One arrow took a horse’s head; the second killed the fallen Gothic rider.

Five kills rampage!

Duncan grew more confident. Killing shield-bearing Gothic servitors cost a few more arrows, and some fallen riders were trampled by their own comrades.

Six kills—superhuman!

Seven kills—intimidation!

Eight kills—panic!

Nine kills—rout!

The Gothic servant cavalry’s morale plummeted from high to low, then intimidated by Duncan’s seven kills, then panic set in with a fallen rider, and finally, at nine kills, they scattered despite still having over ten riders.

Terrifying!

Not only the Gothic servant cavalry but even the elite Hunnic riders showed signs of panic.

Ten kills—complete rout!

About one kill every thirty seconds.

Duncan achieved ten kills in minutes, prompting the Visigoth cavalry to cheer and hail him as “the Lord’s warrior,” boosting their morale.

Some Goths had converted to Catholicism after migrating west; many barbarians in Germania were church followers.

“That’s enough for now!”

Duncan didn’t rush to crush the Hunnic and servant troops, noticing his arrows were running low.

He carried two quivers—small ones with twelve arrows, convenient to carry and quick to draw, and larger ones with twenty-four or even thirty-six arrows, but these hindered movement. Usually, a foot archer might carry over sixty arrows.

“Franks!”

“Elite barbarian warriors.”

Duncan aimed to claim a few important heads: one, an elite Frankish infantryman skilled with the Frankish throwing axe; two, a barbarian elite warrior who might possess special abilities.

He circled the battlefield’s perimeter, avoiding enemy archers.

Opportunity!

He quickly marked several Hunnic-conquered elite Frankish warriors on the map.

Duncan pulled his reins sharply; his horse neighed and reared, and from a near-vertical angle, he took aim.

—Parthian Shot!

The arrow cut across the battlefield.

Time seemed to freeze.

A clean headshot.

The elite Frankish axeman under Hunnic rule dropped dead instantly.

Eleven kills!

Duncan pressed on, noticing enemies attempting to surround him from both sides. Without divine sight, he would never have detected the full battlefield, risking encirclement.

“Time to test my skills!”

He drew a deep breath, spurred his horse, which leapt into the air. Mid-jump, Duncan locked onto a marked target:

—Barbarian Chieftain Warrior (1-star).

—Parthian Shot.

On the battlefield, the barbarian chieftain had just roared, cleaving an Imperial Field Army soldier’s head with twin battleaxes. The next moment, Duncan’s arrow whistled through the air and pierced the chieftain’s neck.

Twelve kills!

Duncan’s quiver was empty.

He dropped down beside his horse, hanging onto the saddle, and grabbed a fallen knight’s lance from the ground. This was a cavalry skill favored by the Huns, far superior to most European knights.

Lance tucked under his arm.

Duncan inhaled deeply, his stamina nearly spent, and faced the Ostrogoth riders attempting to trap him.

—Lance Charge!

In an instant, sparks flew as lance met flesh. Duncan’s lance pierced the enemy’s body; with expert horsemanship, he released the lance and, in a fluid motion, drew the opponent’s longsword from his saddle.

Thirteen kills!

Time to retreat!

Without hesitation, Duncan charged from the battlefield’s right flank to the left and then rode off without looking back.

His stamina was nearly depleted.

Even in the dimensional space, he felt his controlling arms tremble slightly.

Seventh day of crossing.

Heads taken: 37.

After gathering the scattered horses around the battlefield, he would record it all in his little book.

On a mountain overlooking the battlefield:

The Raven Queen, Triss, was stunned to the point of daze. While Severus could not see the battlefield, she used witchcraft to view it clearly through the eyes of birds.

She witnessed Duncan’s lone rampage across the field and his final departure.

The sight made her shudder slightly.

Amid thousands of soldiers, Duncan had slain over ten foes, finally killing the barbarian chieftain warrior and riding away.

……………………