Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 210 Thunder's Fury

Tenthstone Town descended into terrified chaos.

The sentries and scouts on the outskirts were silent; the main force, in a state of bewilderment, was met by a dense, howling enemy, a force of hardened cavalry.

The patrols between the camps became the primary sacrifices and walls of flesh.

Though most of them died in confusion.

They at least used their lives to give their comrades a belated warning.

Sounds.

The rumble of hooves, the collision of men and horses, the ear-piercing screech of grinding steel, the intermittent, fluctuating horns and drums, the cries of men filled with intense emotion… all of these combined to create the clamor of the battlefield.

Soldiers were awakened from their slumber, the first thing they saw was the eerie light outside the camp.

Wasn't it the dead of night? When did it get light?

Panic and the unknown danger drove them to grip their weapons, searching everywhere, craving any steel or leather that could shield their flesh. As if that would truly make them safer.

Shhh—

Warhorses galloped past, horizontal swords and blades cutting long gashes in the cloth and leather of the tents, almost splitting them in two. The same would be the fate of a man's head, perhaps.

Through the newly formed gaps, they saw the terrifying scene outside.

Several bright lights slowly fell from the sky, illuminating the night and the earth, and also illuminating the surrounding chaos and death.

Camps were shattered and set ablaze, cavalry flitting past like shadows in the fire, like unknowable monsters.

Those bearing the sigil of the Stag or the various houses of the Reach either died, surrendered, wailed, stood bewildered in the open, or hid silently in the dark tents.

Occasionally, black spheres streaked through the air, exploding with searing heat, instantly blasting through any solid or sharp obstacle in the path of the cavalry.

The attacking cavalry seemed to be in a race, intent only on charging forward.

Anyone who avoided the path of the warhorses was not deliberately hunted down; only those who intentionally or unintentionally blocked the cavalry were met with swords or those black spheres.

Was this the time to step forward?

Thump! Thump! Thump…

With each resounding boom that shook hearts and minds, brilliant colors exploded across the firmament.

They were vivid images and words.

In the bright night sky, King Renly's smile was truly wicked, chilling to the bone. His smile was directed at a savage beast gnawing at a crown.

Those who could read saw it even more clearly.

The sky read: Renly conspired to usurp the throne, colluding with Bloodraven and other traitors to murder King Robert, slandering the legitimacy of His Majesty Joffrey, dragging the Seven Kingdoms into a bloody war for his own selfish desires, a grave sin!

A thunderous voice, coming from an unknown location, appeared in response: "You must immediately recognize the true nature of Renly's ambition, abandon darkness and turn to the light, and you may yet be forgiven!"

Thump! Thump! Thump…

Another horrifying image, several lines of stern text, a passage of majestic voice.

The cycle repeated endlessly…

The soldiers had never experienced such a bizarre scene, and they couldn't help but feel lost and bewildered, subconsciously looking to the nearest officer for guidance.

The mid- and low-level officers were not performing much better than the common soldiers.

Some abandoned all sense of shame at the first opportunity, either kneeling to surrender or simply discarding Renly's sigil, transforming themselves into soldiers of King Joffrey's army.

Some were torn between life and honor, unsure of what to do.

Some bit the bullet and ordered an attack, but their first attempt to mobilize was scattered by the charging cavalry, and they ultimately died by hooves, steel, fire, or the swords of defecting soldiers.

Some decided to believe everything depicted in the sky.

The high-ranking officers were eager to counterattack, but most were within Tenthstone Town, beyond their reach.

The defeat outside the town was already irreversible.

The enemy's sudden attack, coupled with the fact that the only formed combat force—the patrols—collapsed at the first touch, meant that although the other troops were numerous, they had become scattered sheep in the night attack, forced to watch helplessly as they were dispersed, cut off, and surrounded.

Moreover, the enemy had strange means to further disintegrate morale and fighting will. How many would persist in resisting?

A stroke of luck in misfortune.

These open-air barracks ultimately delayed the enemy's initial onslaught, giving the nearly 20,000 main force within the town some time to react.

Ser Jon Fossoway immediately ordered the troops to form ranks.

Despite the panic and tension, under the officers' shouts and high pressure, the troops finally regained their basic formation and combat capability.

Before they could prepare further, the enemy had already arrived.

"Shield wall! Pike formation! Archers, prepare for three rounds of volley fire! Ballistae, take aim!" Ser Jon Fossoway calmly commanded the army.

Nearly 20,000 men began to move slowly.

"Blackfish" knew Jon Fossoway's orders earlier than most Reach soldiers.

"Everyone halt, Holy Shields forward!"

"Blackfish's" choice was no different from that of other Kingsguard generals. Indeed, who would leave the Holy Shield warriors, such an all-purpose weapon, unused, and instead risk the lives of others?

Several thousand cavalry immediately reined in their horses, leaving only a few hundred to continue forward.

Jon Fossoway couldn't help but frown. What was this? Not sending in the main force to attack, not pausing the offensive, what could a few hundred men accomplish?

The situation was too chaotic and pressing; Jon Fossoway hadn't yet noticed the power of the Holy Shield warriors.

But he would soon witness it, along with twenty thousand pairs of eyes.

Arrows, ballistae, swords, and even the huge stones hurled by the hastily deployed catapults failed to inflict any visible wounds on these monsters. Yes, if not monsters, what else could they be!

In an instant, those "rumors" that had been forcibly suppressed exploded again within the coalition forces, and with even more ferocious and thorough effect.

Holy City! Divine Grace! Light and Fire! Resurrection and Creation!

The series of events tonight flashed through the minds of the Reach soldiers, awakening them: so these were not rumors after all!

At this moment.

The solid shield wall seemed motionless, yet also seemed suddenly fragile, ready to collapse at the slightest touch.

"Blackfish" had never doubted their victory. But seeing the enemies' comical expressions, he couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and relief.

"Ser Jaime, have the cannons step up their efforts."

Jaime turned to the artillery units beside him and pointed to the solid little fortress in the center of Tenthstone Town, "There's no one there anymore, destroy it. Tenthstone Town doesn't need a castle."

Bang! Bang! Bang…

The whistling steel flew over the heads of the twenty thousand coalition soldiers, immediately causing countless people to cower and their pupils to constrict.

Many turned around on their own.

A violent tremor erupted in the center of the town, causing the stone-built fortress to shatter and collapse into a pile of rubble.

White mist billowed, as if a subterranean hot spring had been unleashed.

"No! My castle!" Count Furley screamed in alarm, as if he had lost everything he loved most.

Jon Fossoway gently shook his head. At this point, who could still care about a castle? It was feared that even their lives could no longer be guaranteed.

"Blackfish" smiled, "Charge."

The loud voice from the rear sounded again, "Those who stubbornly resist will be punished even more severely! Everyone immediately cease resistance, and His Majesty the King will grant forgiveness."

"Blackfish's" vanguard advanced smoothly.

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