The Martial Unity

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!"

could scarcely believe that a man could so accurately throw a spear, and such

army. As such, they were the least affected by the mess at their front

impossible. Medieval armies usually relied on a combination of horn and flag sequences to give orders, but with their general gone, this was easier said than

and sent down the orders for the appropriate signal, their entire front line was unrecognizable. A ghastly scene of bisected bodies, pools of blood and organs, and men

"Aina! Retreat!"

normal. His voice carried a

Leonel's shock, Aina

twitched. She was always talking about his recklessness, but

meters at best. There's only about 150 meters between me and them, though. They can

down the siege tower, grabbing another barrel of spears

a rain of arrows fell toward

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

An instant later, its size increased tenfold,

clink of the metallic arrows ricocheted off the shield, not leaving even the slightest dent.

rapidly. In that moment, with every clink of an arrow that rebounded from his shield, he drew a picture in his

arrow was projected into his mind, drawing a perfect line from its contact point to where the bowman

fingers reached down toward

he flicked his fingers upward, causing the dart to spin for

the appearance of the atlatl, slotting into place as though finding its

swung to the side, swatting the last of the arrows away with his shield. In the same instant, his right arm whipped forward, using the swinging momentum of his left to its advantage to send a silver dart streaking through the air at over 200 kilometers an