The storm had arrived, and Gendry had unleashed a storm of black.
Gendry raised his mace, skillfully swinging it left and right. Horses neighed as lances, along with the rest of the Wolf Pack's cavalry, charged forward with him. The Wolf Pack expertly cut through the formation, and none of the reckless attackers on the shield wall were spared.
"Damn it! It's the Gunpowder King!"
"It's the commander of the Wolf Pack!" The Myrish free mercenaries voiced their terrified murmurs. The head wolf on horseback was awe-inspiring; he was tall and muscular, with deep blue eyes like the azure sea. His raised mace gleamed with a cold, eerie light, as if bringing a greeting from the Grim Reaper. The mercenaries weren't fools; they didn't think their skulls were harder than those of the Meereenese gladiators or the Unsullied.
"Run!" Jorah abandoned any concern for the battlefield formation and hastily left his well-arranged position to flee for his life. The moment he laid eyes on the Gunpowder King, his spirit had already fled. He felt like a coward, unable to rejoin the bloody war.
Under the protection of the remaining Unsullied and Meereenese gladiators, Jorah completely abandoned the vanguard, surrounded by the Wolf Pack's knights. Like a mad horse, he led the mercenaries in a hasty retreat from the battlefield. The rear formation scattered like birds and beasts, leaving the hundreds of free knights, Brave Companions, and Unsullied in the vanguard to the mercy of the Wolf Pack and the Free Army.
"Draw bows! Fire!" Black Billy and Dick the Maker urgently commanded the archer units on the hill, continuing to launch a volley of arrows at the Myrish in front of the shield wall. Many horses let out mournful neighs, their mounts going wild with left and right neighs, even collapsing heavily to the ground. Free mercenaries who couldn't dodge in time were crushed beneath their horses, facing certain death.
Taking advantage of the unbroken shield wall, Gendry and the cavalry charged in together.
A free mercenary bravely charged at Gendry. Gendry's mace swung, smashing into the soldier's cheek, piercing through the faceplate, bone, and blood. The mercenary fell to the ground instantly. But Gendry didn't stop; his gaze was on the Brave Companions and the Unsullied, the strongest force there. He intended to shatter the Myrish heads.
Vargo saw that the situation was dire and immediately turned his troop of Brave Companions around. As soon as Vargo turned, the entire front line of the charge collapsed instantly. All the free knights immediately fled. Looking back, they found that Commander Jorah's rear guard had already disappeared. Only twenty Unsullied, wielding their short swords and spears, continued to charge the shield wall.
"Thud!" "Thud!" The shield wall regained its solidity, advancing like a rock. The Unsullied were pushed back but still held their formation, fighting to the death. Unfortunately, with only twenty of them, they couldn't turn the tide.
"Forget about those foolish Unsullied; kill the goat and his ragtag soldiers first," Gendry instructed. Lance immediately understood his meaning.
Vargo was far too conspicuous, his goat helmet unmistakable. He rode a black-and-white spotted zebra, tall and gaunt, like a rusted longsword. Vargo also sported a goatee and wore a necklace made of coins from the places he had fought.
Vargo was clad in black chainmail and lobster iron gauntlets. Gendry charged over with a roar, and Vargo hastily swung his longsword, trying to block. But Gendry didn't care about his feeble attempt at defense. Gendry's first hammer blow already made Vargo reel, feeling as if his arm had been crushed by a boulder.
"Boy, boy, I underestimated you!" Vargo roared in anger. Vargo began to hack at Gendry's head and shoulders. The mace and longsword clashed, producing the sound of steel on steel. Vargo had been in many battles; though he was a scoundrel and a villain, he had plenty of combat experience. His sword was fierce and venomous, and his movements were agile. Unfortunately, in the face of sheer strength, these seemed to have little effect. Especially now, in an ambush, Vargo couldn't focus completely.
Vargo glanced at the rest of the battlefield and saw his teammates being harvested by the frenzied Northerners. The Northerners' heavily-armored knights were like iron fists, crushing the Brave Companions and the free mercenaries. Vargo's longsword hacked frantically but was blocked by Gendry's sturdy black scale armor. Without a Valyrian steel sword, most swords in the world struggled against heavily armored knights.
"Die!" The scorching flames of battle burned between the black stag and the goat as the two mortal enemies met. Gendry launched a fierce attack, finding the rhythm of blacksmithing, channeling the power through. Blow after blow, Gendry's heavy hammer shattered Vargo's helmet, revealing the goat's bloodied, ugly face. Gendry saw Vargo's terrified face, his gaunt features, his goatee, his fearful eyes— even a killer demon was panicked at the brink of death.
"Spare me, Goat God!" Vargo pleaded devoutly.
"Thud!" Gendry's hammer struck Vargo's forehead, the wound deep and gory, with blood, brain tissue, and bone fragments splattering. The blood mist was terrifying, blossoming across the battlefield. Vargo's body collapsed, dead as could be. The poor zebra, now masterless, let out a neigh until it was pierced by arrows.
"The goat is dead!" "The goat is dead!" Gendry shouted, his voice like iron, echoing across the battlefield. The remaining mercenaries scattered like a landslide, all floundering about, utterly terrified. Commander Jorah had fled, and now the goat was dead.
"You killed the captain, you madman!" "Jester" Shagwell charged out from some corner. Dressed in a mix of green and pink, beneath his clothes was chainmail. The Jester loved to crack cruel jokes and wielded a three-headed flail.
The Jester swung his weapon with a fierce wind, but Gendry still swung his mace, only for the three-headed flail to entangle his mace.
The Jester was delighted at the sight, "Die, wolf cub!" The Jester pulled out a black dagger from his person, intending to stab into the joint of Gendry's armor.
"Thwip!" Gendry released his mace; he still had an arakh. The arakh whistled sharply, slicing off the Jester's head in one go. Now, the Jester, who loved to tell cruel jokes, was finally silenced.
"Kill the Brave Companions!" "Kill the Brave Companions!"
"Long live the Wolf Pack!" "Long live the Wolf Pack!"
The Wolf Pack's knights charged repeatedly like a steel fist, ensuring the complete annihilation of the surrounded enemies.
The Brave Companions, the legion of criminals and scum, met their end. The knights pounded the battlefield like hammers, repeatedly tilling the earth.
"Surrender!"
"We surrender!" The free mercenaries dropped their weapons one after another. They regretted taking on this mission; although the pay was high, it came at the cost of their lives.