I Pioneered Scientific Magic

Chapter 267: The Song of Blood and Fire Resounds with the Roar of Cannons!

In this moment, on the battlefield interwoven with blood and fire, two thousand fully armed cavalry troops galloped forward, only to collide head-on with an endless barrage of artillery. Almost every moment, several to even a dozen artillery shells would land nearby them, some even on their heads!

Cavalrymen kept falling off their horses, creating immense psychological pressure.

If it weren't for the divine spell, the "Anthem of Courage," granting them extraordinary mental resilience, under the constant bombardment of artillery shells, this entire knightly contingent would probably have collapsed and scattered long ago.

Even if men could endure, their warhorses couldn't!

Despite that, the incoming artillery continued to chip away at their courage bit by bit. Although the power of the Quadrant Magic was terrifying, divided among fifteen thousand people, it only manifested at the level of the first or second quadrant on them...

"These damn wizards!" Johnson's mind was filled with a hint of fear, dreading that the next moment an artillery shell might land on his head. Like Nord, he mistook this terrifying artillery rain for the magic of wizards.

"Charge! Don't stop!" Johnson shouted loudly. Despite the fear, he understood that once cavalry began a group charge, they couldn't afford to abruptly stop. All they could do was rush through at the fastest speed, annihilating their foes in one go!

With such potent magic, collateral damage would be severe. Their safest bet was to plunge into the ranks of those mining slaves!

"God stands with us!" The surrounding knights also roared in an attempt to lift spirits, though their voices trembled slightly.

Just then, the miners facing them suddenly scattered to the sides. Johnson's pupils contracted, for hidden behind them were over a thousand soldiers, adorned in exquisite armor, wielding matchlock rifles!

Stepping, raising rifles, pulling triggers—the actions of a thousand soldiers synchronized without a single unnecessary movement. This had been their most drilled routine over the past few months...

As for the cavalry charging towards them, there was no fear or hesitation. After all, how could they compare to the horrifying undead tide and the terrifying monsters?

The next moment, a barrage of gunfire erupted. The onrushing cavalry seemed to hit a solid wall, with over two hundred cavalrymen falling instantly.

Their refined armor offered little protection, easily penetrated by high-speed lead bullets. The neighs of warhorses and the cries of agony filled the air as the fallen riders in the front triggered even more casualties.

Johnson, charging at the forefront, unsurprisingly became one of the first hit by the gunfire. However, the magical shield surrounding him saved his life—a gift earned through valiant deeds in previous campaigns—a shield that could withstand crossbow bolts. But now, cracks were appearing on this shield...

Regardless, Johnson cared little; his only thought was to press forward!

Especially when he noticed that those enemies holding strange long sticks had stopped shooting, Johnson saw a glimmer of victory. Obviously, these powerful weapons couldn't be continuously used!

However, his momentary joy lasted only for a few seconds. Soon after, he witnessed the frontline gunners passing their used weapons to the back row, picking up new ones.

The use of the matchlock rifles had various techniques. Both Eastern and Western civilizations had their strategies—like the Japanese three-step firing involving the front and back rows or the alternating firing of three rows as practiced in Europe and Ming China.

Each method had its advantages, adaptable to different battle scenarios. This time, there was no need for fallback maneuvers, so the gunners employed the former method.

Amidst the constant rotation of matchlock rifles in their hands, an unending rain of bullets shot forth.

Though the destructive and intimidating power of the rifles couldn't match the terror of artillery, their quantity was overwhelming. Within a short distance of tens of meters, it became a death trap. Each concentrated volley claimed hundreds of cavalrymen...

The talisman hanging from Johnson's chest shattered when the second round of gunfire arrived, narrowly avoiding the third, but succumbed to the fourth round, hitting his abdomen.

Thankfully, his armor was exceptional, deflecting the majority of the damage. Almost thrown off his horse due to the impact, Johnson managed to stabilize himself, enduring the piercing pain. His only desire now was to charge forth and cut down those damned miners and spellcasting wizards under his horse's hooves!

He couldn't afford to stop, especially with the gunners now less than ten meters away in the front row. There was no time to turn his horse around!

"Charge... Charge!" Johnson roared hoarsely, but immediately saw the gunners in front aim their barrels at him.

Only then did he realize the emptiness around him. Turning his head, he realized that the heavily depleted cavalry had already scattered and fled. He was the only one who charged the gunners!

Before Johnson could curse, a dozen rifles turned him into a sieve, leaving him collapsed just five or six meters away from the gunners.

Watching this scene, Rickman felt his heart shatter. He didn't care about Johnson's life or death, but he deeply lamented the fallen cavalry.

These two thousand cavalry weren't solely his force; they also included Prince Harold's guards. Such catastrophic losses would surely anger the Crown Prince!

"Return fire and cover the cavalry's retreat!" Rickman shouted frantically. The cavalry's charge and sacrifice weren't in vain. At least, it shielded them from the bombardment of cannons, allowing them to reach a distance where they could retaliate with crossbows and arrows.

However, the massive army had already descended into chaos after witnessing the plight of the cavalry. Several nobles, sensing the danger, prepared to flee.

The priests on the field exerted themselves to cast spells of pacification, preventing the complete disintegration of this army. Only Rickman's personal guards remained steadfast in obeying orders. Just as they released a volley of arrows, a relentless cannon barrage crashed down upon them.

"Stop shooting! Stop shooting! Halt!" Fearing being targeted by the cannons, Rickman hurriedly changed his mind.

"It seems we've overestimated them; these people are nothing but scattered sands..." At the same time, Lynn's figure appeared before everyone.

But it made sense; this legion was hastily assembled from the personal guards of dozens of nobles. Their ability to be coordinated and obedient was truly astounding, considering the circumstances.

They fared well in a favorable battle, but once adversity struck, each seemed to fend for themselves. To withstand the onslaught of cannons and muskets without a complete rout was entirely due to magical prowess...

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