Aina's agility couldn't be matched by these normal soldiers. A single sweep of her ax took five lives at a minimum, sometimes as much as ten.

With Leonel's support to her back, she entered the fray without hesitation. She was maybe a little too reckless. Leonel could only watch on with a cold sweat matting his back, throwing out as many spears as he could as quickly as he could.

Reaching over toward his barrel, Leonel realized that he had run out. He could only sprint back down and grab another, carrying it up with him.

'This isn't good. The plan is working almost too well…'

Leonel threw out another spear, reaping yet another life.

A striking problem was becoming obvious to him. The Englishmen's first line had been disrupted so thoroughly that even the most forward of them hadn't crossed the third line of defense yet.

Because of that, Aina, who had already been their target from the beginning, wasn't receiving the support of the Frenchmen who stood in a daze as though they were watching the work of gods.

Because of the spikes, charging forward now would disrupt their advantage. It was best if they waited at the end of the last line of defense to begin their own slaughter. But since Leonel's trap and Aina's prowess was too overpowering, the enemy was nowhere near reaching that goal.

This might sound like a good thing, but Leonel's calculative mind saw that it most definitely wasn't. The way things were going now, Aina would be under too much pressure. He only had one arm to throw with, it was impossible for him to cover her perfectly. Though his high coordination gained him an ambidextrous ability, he needed his left arm to use his shield.

'Dammit.'

"ARCHERS, TAKE DOWN THAT MAN!"

the battle. They could scarcely believe that a man could so accurately throw a spear, and such low quality ones at that. But, they

back of an army. As such, they were the least affected by

scream over the sounds of a battlefield as a normal human was impossible. Medieval armies usually relied on a combination of horn and flag sequences to give orders, but with their general gone,

the second in command finally got hold of the situation and sent down the orders for the appropriate signal, their entire front line was unrecognizable. A

"Aina! Retreat!"

normal. His voice carried a weight that theirs

shock, Aina

She was always talking

about 150 meters

tower, grabbing another barrel of spears and hoisting it

rain of arrows fell toward his direction, but he was

a bit off. The spear on his back was in fact of the D-grade. But, this small shield was

the shield strapped to his left arm above his head. An instant later, its size increased tenfold, forming a massive umbrella in the

not leaving even the slightest dent. How could weapons of the 15th century

from his shield, he drew a picture in his

his mind, drawing a perfect line from its contact point to where the bowman who let

onto a target. Two fingers reached down toward his

he flicked his fingers upward, causing the dart to spin for a brief moment to his side as he ripped his atlatl

spin was halted by the appearance of the atlatl, slotting into place as though finding its perfect

forward, using the swinging

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