Chapter 35: The Elite Deployed

In a woodland area several hundred meters from the blood-soaked heights, a pair of eyes watched everything unfolding on the battlefield through binoculars. Ludwig stood on the shoulder of an armored knight kneeling on one knee. This iron giant, marked with the black cross emblem of the Teutonic Order, was one of the two machines Morin had seen earlier.

"Ludwig, if we don't intervene now, this infantry battalion will be wiped out," his companion, Wilhelm, said from the other armored knight beside him, lowering his binoculars with a hint of urgency.

"Their casualties will be exchanged for greater value," the pilot replied calmly, his gaze never leaving the binoculars. "If we charge out now, we will only get bogged down with the infantry and lose the initiative... To complete this 'hunt,' patience is the greatest weapon."

"Then how much longer must we wait?" Wilhelm asked, unable to match his comrade's composure.

"Soon."

"Stop stalling and tell me..."

Sensing his comrade's anxiety, Ludwig lowered his binoculars and spoke: "The 4th Battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers has only half its strength left. The Britannian commander cannot stand by and watch this decorated unit be annihilated, so he will certainly send reinforcements... When they arrive, whether it is the high-ground mages, their armored knights, or another full-strength battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers, those will be the prey worth striking."

With that, Ludwig raised his binoculars once more. As if to confirm his words, the situation on the battlefield shifted suddenly. Just as the 4th Battalion of the Northumberland Fusiliers was about to reach the breaking point under the siege of Morin and his men and the relentless charges of the lancers, four elegant, white-clad armored knights appeared behind them. Following these armored knights were twelve squires equipped with magitech power armor.

The Britannian elite: the Order of the Garter!

Ludwig’s eyes lit up instantly. He lowered his binoculars, his expression filled with irrepressible excitement. "Jackpot! Everyone, prepare for combat! Squires, fire three red signal flares!"

As the order was given, he and Wilhelm nimbly flipped into the cockpits of their respective machines. The heavy front armor sealed shut. Before the dark cockpits were even illuminated by the magitech crystals, Ludwig and Wilhelm relied on muscle memory to swiftly initiate the startup sequence. Beneath the armor plating, several magitech conduits were engaged, and the "magitech muscle bundles" embedded in the torso and limbs were activated. As the self-diagnostic check completed, their view shifted from the dark interior of the cockpit to an approximately 180-degree external perspective.

They completed the final startup steps. In the silent woods, the internal combustion engines—the primary power source for the two iron giants—emitted a low roar, and thick black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipes on their backs. Around them, six squires in standard Teutonic magitech power armor stood up; three of them quickly raised signal pistols and pulled the triggers.

*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*

Three dazzling red spheres of light ascended into the sky, strikingly visible above the battlefield.

At the same time, Morin, who was fighting fiercely in the "meat grinder," noticed the newly arrived white armored knights and the enemies alongside them, who were even better equipped than the heavy infantry. Red unit markers and detailed information flashed across his system map:

[Affiliation: Holy Britannian Empire - Order of the Garter]
[St. George Type-3 Magitech Armored Knight x4]
[Broadsword Type-2 Magitech Power Armor (Squires) x12]
[Anti-infantry, anti-armor, high-threat unit]

"Are you kidding me? Magitech armored knights are one thing, but power armor too?! Is this even the same art style as our equipment?!" The information provided by the system left Morin stunned. These were units no infantry could possibly fight. Aside from a few depleted grenades, Morin and his men had no high-power weapons, let alone anti-armor gear. Rifle bullets were like mosquito bites to the heavy infantry, let alone these hulking machines that clearly boasted incredible defense.

The surviving soldiers of the Northumberland 4th Battalion erupted in thunderous cheers upon seeing their reinforcements, their morale instantly surging. Fueled by a sudden rush of adrenaline, they began a desperate counterattack, threatening to collapse the lines held by the Saxon infantry and the International Brigades.

At this critical moment, two sharp, whistling sounds tore through the air.

*Boom! Boom!*

Two shells landed precisely within the ranks of the counterattacking Northumberland Fusiliers, the violent explosions throwing up a mixture of blood, gore, and earth.

Morin instinctively looked back. Not far behind him on the slope, two black-and-white armored knights had appeared—the armored knights of the Saxon Empire’s Teutonic Order. One of them, kneeling, held a weapon that looked like a rifle but possessed a caliber comparable to a field cannon; smoke was still drifting from the barrel. The other had just finished reloading, the knight skillfully cycling the straight-pull bolt to eject a massive brass casing before aiming the barrel at the enemy below the slope once again.

The two armored knights fired several more shots into the Northumberland formation, shattering the ranks they had only just managed to reorganize. This direct fire support from heavy units crushed the morale of the Northumberland Fusiliers as quickly as it had been ignited.

Below the slope, the four armored knights of the Order of the Garter saw this and halted their rescue attempt, instead accelerating toward the two firing Teutonic knights. The atmosphere on the battlefield grew eerily strange. The infantry on both sides, locked in a brutal struggle, seemed to receive a silent command, disengaging with remarkable synchronization. They retreated toward their respective rears, not even pausing to collect their fallen comrades.

The Saxon lancers, having completed their final charge, also turned their horses without hesitation and galloped away in another direction, leaving the battlefield. Morin tracked their departure and realized it was the location of the hidden magi-crystal artillery position he had marked earlier. However, he had no time to worry about the cavalry's movements; he directed his own troops to withdraw toward the top of the heights.

"Quick! Follow us! Fall back to the heights!"

Morin did not forget his allies in the International Brigades. Seeing his 3rd Platoon already beginning to withdraw, he waved his arms and shouted to the bewildered volunteers, urging them to retreat to the summit together. Once the 1st Battalion and the remaining troops of the International Brigades—totaling fewer than 600 men—had retreated, a bearded man who appeared to be the commander of the International Brigades shook hands with Morin.

The men then lay flat on the heights, watching with bated breath like spectators as the "gladiatorial match" between the armored knights unfolded below.

On the other side, just as the four armored knights of the Order of the Garter prepared to charge and eliminate the two annoying "pests," they suddenly stopped in their tracks. Morin and his men, watching from the heights, were puzzled, but the answer was soon revealed: from several other directions around the combat zone, more Teutonic Order armored knights emerged from their hiding spots.

Black, hollow muzzles pointed from all sides toward the four armored knights of the Order of the Garter, forming a loose encirclement.