Infinity, The Arcade Age-Chapter 410: First Victory

Heavy footsteps thundered—the forces of the Evil Grand Duke had arrived right on schedule.

This time, their response was faster than ever, especially since they were currently locked in fierce combat with the Round Table Knights.

Under such circumstances, any group with combat capability appearing within their territory would trigger extreme vigilance.

After all, if they failed to handle it properly, this band of refugees with growing strength could snowball out of control.

If they seized food, weapons, and armor, and rallied nearby refugees, they really could become a formidable force.

By then, taking them down would be far from easy.

At the forefront rode a knight on a tall steed, wielding a poleaxe—the unmistakable attire of a noble.

He looked exactly like the final boss Qin Ming had once faced when he first entered the Round Table Knight world.

This setup—poleaxe in hand, full plate armor—was standard for high-ranking knights under the Evil Grand Duke. It was called the "noble's kit."

Peering through the slit in his closed helmet, the knight—Sir Med, whose fief was nearby—scanned the ruined village ahead, his brows gradually knitting into a frown.

Especially when he spotted the food wagons piled conspicuously in the middle of the village. He let out a cold snort.

"Hmph, like catching a turtle in a jar. Cheap tricks."

He suddenly raised a hand and gave a sharp command.

"Advance! Defensive formation!"

Upon hearing his order, a nearby adjutant nodded firmly, raised his hammer and shield, and led several dozen soldiers to form a tight circle and advance cautiously.

As they neared the grain wagons, staring at the neatly stacked food and the eerily quiet village, they didn't encounter the ambush they had anticipated. The adjutant's expression twisted in confusion.

At the village entrance, Sir Med, who remained with the rest of the soldiers and archers aiming their light crossbows at the ready, also faltered momentarily.

Those crossbowmen, already poised to fire, exchanged bewildered glances.

Before they could figure out what was going on—why the enemy hadn't launched the expected ambush—suddenly, disordered noises erupted all around them.

In the next second, the long-awaited ambush was finally sprung—but not from within the village ruins as expected. It came from the grassy fields on both sides!

With a rustle and a burst of dust, a large number of "Pitchfork Knight Regiment" soldiers burst up from the ground, grabbing the pitchforks buried beside them and charging with a roar.

Their target? Sir Med.

Sir Med, who had never expected this rabble to dare ambush him directly, was caught off guard.

The leather-armored crossbowmen nearby scrambled to turn their weapons and hold off the charging enemy.

But the distance was too close. Their volley downed a few attackers, but the rest surged in and closed the gap.

With a roar, pitchforks lunged. The sharpened tips pierced through leather armor and impaled bodies. The Pitchfork Knights, still pushing forward with impaled enemies on their weapons, shattered the enemy formation in an instant.

Sir Med tried to stabilize the situation through sheer personal strength, swinging his poleaxe and knocking down two pitchfork knights from horseback.

But just as quickly, pitchforks thrust at him from all sides, yanking him from his horse.

Don't underestimate the pitchfork—it may be a farming tool, but its killing power was frighteningly high, and it countered traditional weapons surprisingly well.

To be precise, most farming tools were absurdly effective in combat.

The flail for threshing, the shovel for digging, the pitchfork for hay, the rake for tilling...

These "tools" were as effective as regular weapons—sometimes even better due to their unusual shapes, making them hard to block.

Their real weakness was poor material quality and awkward shapes that made them structurally weak.

But now that Qin Ming had solved the issue of durability, these pitchforks had become bona fide killing machines.

Sir Med, forcibly stabbed off his horse, tried to stand up while tumbling to the ground.

But with pitchforks jabbing at him from all directions, he couldn't find an opening to recover.

Just as he managed to get halfway up, someone hooked his legs with a sickle and hoe, dragging him down again.

Even his poleaxe got jammed between pitchfork prongs when he tried to block a strike.

Despite being a knight—a first-boss-level opponent—Sir Med was being beaten helplessly by more than twenty enraged peasants.

With sickles and hoes locking down his limbs, he couldn't even stand.

The sudden shift in battle shocked the adjutant who had already led his troops to the center of the village.

Not expecting the enemy to target their commander so directly, he immediately led the infantry to try and reinforce him.

But just as they had only run a few steps, they suddenly stopped.

In the middle of the road ahead, a towering figure slowly emerged from the abandoned buildings.

With one hand behind his back, Qin Ming held a floating blood sphere in his other hand. The shape of it looked extremely menacing. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Looking at the figure blocking the road, an imposing Qin Ming, the adjutant and the soldiers nearby exchanged a glance.

In the next moment, they all suddenly roared in unison and charged forward with weapons raised.

Hearing the chaotic footsteps ahead, Qin Ming's eyes narrowed and his hand clenched into a fist.

With a whoosh, the blood sphere, which had been slowly rotating, exploded. A torrent of blood sprayed out, transforming into countless tiny flying blades that spun rapidly, shooting forward.

In an instant, the air was filled with flashing blades.

The soldiers, who had been charging full speed in their armor, all screamed in agony at the same time.

Their shields were shattered, their armor pierced, and blood arrows erupted from the bodies of the first two rows of soldiers. They were knocked back by the flying blood knives.

Before their bodies even hit the ground, the blood knives piercing them continued to fly out from their backs, dragging blood and transforming into more tiny blades, shooting out like a swarm of bees toward the rear.

The sky seemed to darken with bloodthirsty blades as dozens of soldiers were struck by the spinning blades, their bodies quaking with every hit, one after another collapsing to the ground.

Before they could even recover from the terrifying and dense barrage of attacks, a figure suddenly appeared atop a collapsed watchtower behind Qin Ming.

Kasumoto Eiri, dressed in military attire and holding a light machine gun, aimed it at the crowd below and began a wild barrage of fire.

The combination of machine gun fire and blood blade assault was clearly too much for the ordinary soldiers to withstand.

In the blink of an eye, the area in front of Qin Ming and Kasumoto Eiri was littered with bodies.

Meanwhile, on another battlefield, the conflict was rapidly coming to an end.

Over a hundred Pitchfork Knights clashed with several dozen Imperial soldiers, and the battle ended in a decisive victory for the Pitchfork Knights.

The Imperial soldiers, who usually relied on their superior equipment to crush opponents, found themselves being crushed instead.

One soldier, attempting to strike a Pitchfork Knight, found his sword blade blocked by the cloth armor, and the bewildered expression on his face said it all.

Other soldiers struck wooden helmets or tried to cut through thick metal, only to see their weapons bounce off.

One particular Pitchfork Knight, carrying a heavy iron pot on his back, even plowed through the crowd with his weapon, unable to be stopped by a full-strength sword blow from a heavily armored knight!

The leader, Sir Med, was slain directly by the elite Pitchfork Knights, falling to their chaotic barrage of pitchforks.

With their leader dead and their elite forces wiped out, the remaining soldiers were left demoralized, fleeing in every direction.

The Pitchfork Knights, who had pursued them for two miles and killed a dozen more, returned to the village, dragging the bodies of their fallen enemies.

Looking at the mass of enemy corpses lying on the ground, the knights were still in disbelief that they had achieved such a result.

Not only had they defeated the regular army and protected the food, but they had even killed a high-ranking knight!

Clutching their pitchforks, the knights turned to look at Qin Ming, their leader. After checking the fallen weapons on the ground, Qin Ming stood up and nodded.

"Good performance this time. I'll allow you to cheer."

"YEAH!!!"

The deafening roar of celebration rang through the abandoned village.

The so-called Pitchfork Knights, holding their pitchforks high, kept shouting in excitement.

Seeing their joyful expressions, Qin Ming crossed his arms and nodded in satisfaction.

A hundred-man squad, led by a mere boss-level knight—against such an enemy, Qin Ming and Kasumoto Eiri could easily handle them alone.

After all, their strength now was far beyond what it had been before.

However, Qin Ming still chose to lead the Pitchfork Knights into battle and made them the main force for this conflict, while he and Kasumoto Eiri focused on dealing with the more formidable heavy-armored units.

He! Was intentionally training these commoner knights!

Because this battle involved an entire country, and the enemy had many soldiers.

Even if Qin Ming and Kasumoto Eiri were capable of fighting, how many could they realistically kill on the battlefield?

Thus, he needed assistants, more soldiers, and a usable fighting force.

Only by showing the Pitchfork Knights that they were also strong, by giving them the courage to fight the enemy, could they truly be considered a real army.

And judging by the outcome of this battle, it seemed to have been quite effective.

"Everyone, gather your weapons! And organize the food! We're assembling our forces! Prepare to counterattack the Knight's Castle!"

"Yes!"

The Pitchfork Knights roared in unison and scattered. This time, they were clearly energized and in higher spirits than before.

(End of Chapter)