Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Madman! How could there be such a madman!"

On the North Shore of Rose River, the black-faced man's eyes were torn with fury as he punched and shattered a window bar.

Flames soared to the sky on both banks while the oncoming cavalry charged across the frozen river as if a stream of iron poured out of the gates of Hell.

Constantly, patches of ice would not withstand the trampling hooves, screaming as they shattered; constantly, riders would without warning drop in stature, vanishing into the undulating waves.

Yet the flow of iron did not slow at all; it sped up instead.

Especially at the very front.

There, a valiant figure in gleaming silver armor; there, a tall and slender white horse, as fast as a shooting star.

The sound of hooves piercing through the air like a thousand-pound hammer, again and again, struck at the hearts of the black-faced man's Eagle Guards and the rioters in frenzy.

"First Hundred-Men Squad! Charge, forward!"

Colonel Berny couldn't be bothered with where the reinforcements came from; capturing the moment the enemy's morale faltered, he resolutely threw in his only remaining band of veteran Hundred-Men Squad.

"Charge!" The Centurion raised the battle flag, drew his sword, and led the charge: "Forward!"

Once again, the silent Monta soldiers surged toward the street barriers like a tide.

With fierce tigers ahead and packs of wolves behind, the rioters, who had been energetically tearing down doors and windows, carrying furniture, and fortifying the next street barrier, now found themselves at a loss, dumb as wooden chickens.

Suddenly, someone screamed, leaped from the street barrier, dropped their weapons, and, rolling and crawling, fled toward the heart of the city.

Others, as if snapped awake from a dream, some took off with their looted goods, some darted into civilian homes hoping for a final grab.

Even those who didn't run on the spot showed faces filled with terror, no longer exhibiting the same excitement and arrogance from repelling the garrison.

The black-faced man's subordinates strained to maintain order, but once collapse took hold, it could no longer be contained.

The rioters gathered at St. Peter Street and St. John Street were a mix of those tempted by profit, coerced, agitated, or plainly there to vent their bestial desires.

They were like swarms of wild bees and ants, acting on instinct and not reason.

The black-faced man still wanted to turn the tide of defeat, but he had no time to issue orders, for the cavalry had already thundered onto the battlefield like lightning.

That figure in silver armor on a white horse charged straight onto the rocky riverbank, sparking a series of sparks.

The nearly one-man-high riverbank blocked his path like an insurmountable wall.

But then, the extraordinary white horse let out a piercing neigh, coiled its limbs, then suddenly stretched out its legs and leapt, effortlessly landing atop the riverbank.

Not only were the rioters behind the barriers shocked into speechlessness, but Colonel Berny and Major Thomas were also gaping in astonishment.

"This... I..." Major Thomas's eyes bulged as his face turned red, then he suddenly blurted out: "Whose horse is this? Could I perhaps borrow it for breeding?"

Hearing this, Colonel Berny was beside himself with anger. He couldn't reprimand the Major in public, so he simply ignored Thomas and turned to order the signal soldier: "Take the communication flag and go coordinate with this cavalry, tell them to send someone who can speak."

The signal soldier took the command, grabbed the green swallow-tailed flag, and galloped towards the street barrier.

In contrast, the rioters near the street barrier had no leisure to ponder whether they could "perhaps borrow it for breeding."

For after the silver-armored rider leapt onto the riverbank, he effortlessly jumped over the fences of the riverside houses and charged directly into the rear area of the barricades.

It was like a tiger entering a flock of sheep. The silver armored Cavalry rampaged and slaughtered unbeatably, one man and his horse tearing apart any semblance of order left among the rabble.

Gunshots rang out in succession, but the white horse was both fast and agile, dodging to the left and the right without slowing down. The fired lead shot either missed completely or merely grazed past the figure.

With another gunshot, Winters—the silver-armored cavalry—caught a glimpse of a flash of gunfire at the mouth of the alley.

He paused the continuous casting of the Deflection Spell and shot two arrows towards the general direction of the gunfire. Not caring whether he hit his mark or not, he reactivated the Deflection Spell and urged Longwind to continue barreling through.

With a thunderous boom, Berny's remaining veteran Hundred-Men Squad blasted open the burning roadblock and broke through the street barrier.

The Cavalry left behind by Winters ascended from the lower terrain of the riverbank, whipping their horses to hurry onto the battlefield.

The militia from the northern district clumsily waved their cavalry sabers while shouting "Surrender to spare your lives," blocking off St. Paul Street from the rear.

Caught in a pincer attack, the rioters who had been full of bluster just moments before now ran for their lives, revealing the true nature of a disorganized mob. They desperately squeezed into alleys and tunnels, even jumping into the river to flee to the opposite shore.

In the midst of chaos, four heavily armored cavalry cut through the long street, charging straight to the front of the figure in silver armor on a white horse.

"You're late," Winters said with a smile, waving his hand.

The leading heavy cavalry—Father Kaman—furious, jumped off his mount, grabbed Winters still greeting them, and slammed him to the ground.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Kaman bellowed like thunder: "Have you?!"

Seeing the impending brawl, the other three quickly pulled the Father away.

Xial helped Winters up: "What Father Kaman means is 'What if there were still wizards?'. Ah, I think the Father has a point, you really should consider more carefully…"

The other two guards didn't speak, but their eyes also held a measure of reproach.

Winters, defeated, sincerely apologized: "I promise it won't happen again next time."

Kaman, held back by the arms of the two guards, kicked out at them furiously: "And there will be a next time?!"