Game of Thrones: From a deserter to a high-ranking official

Chapter 66 Bloody Fight

The "Lightning Regiment's" right flank and center were relatively smaller, but the wagon barracks provided a strong defense, the light infantry offered flexible support, and the crossbowmen's relentless volleys kept the line sturdy. They held the enemy in the front like an anvil, while the "hammers" on the left flank relentlessly pounded at the enemy's weak points, causing the enemy's formation to crumble like broken tiles!

When the steel torrent on the left flank had completely overwhelmed the enemy's rear, the Dothraki patrol cavalry seized the opportunity and launched a bold, textbook-perfect, wild charge! They raised their sabers and lances, letting out rough shouts; their braids stood on end in the wind.

Twenty men slashed through the enemy's already wavering ranks like a hot knife through butter!

Pursuing retreating enemies and hunting cowardly prey: this was their old trade, and on the steppes, this was how they chased after scattered infantry and slaves.

Then, a complete collapse began.

The left flank was completely routed, while the "Lightning Legion" soldiers in the center and right flank began to steadily advance. Mario's massive force of over seven hundred men crumbled in a short time, turning into aimless, panicked routs.

Fear gripped them instantly; the surviving soldiers screamed and retreated, trampling each other. There were instances where two or three Lightning Regiment soldiers yelled at them, and someone would surrender.

But Tiberius gave a death order: no prisoners, no mercy, no forgiveness! Heads are military merit, and bloodstained weapons are glory!

Everyone in the Blitzkrieg, including Lisangro, took their weapons and went into battle: because they knew the enemy was doomed! We could win!

Soon, Mario Ferrero and his cronies, along with their core guards—about fifty or sixty men in total—were forced back into a corner of the arena by the "Lightning Brigade." They huddled against the wall, their faces filled with terror, disbelief, and despair. Their ornate armor was stained with mud and blood, their weapons trembling as they pointed forward; all traces of their previous arrogance were gone.

A deathly silence fell over the stands. The previous fervor and cheers had vanished without a trace, replaced by a chilling fear and shock. Several of the noble ladies had already fainted, and even many veteran nobles, accustomed to the bloody battles of gladiators, were pale with astonishment at the efficiency of Tiberius's army.

Tiberius raised his hand.

The entire "Lightning Squad" instantly halted its advance, all weapons still pointed at the remaining enemies in the corner, maintaining a posture ready to launch a fatal blow at any moment.

In the silence, faint voices finally broke the silence from the stands, mainly from the Ferrero family and the families of the other trapped young masters. They cried out in terror, "Mercy! Lord Rogal! Young Master Lisanro! Please forgive them! They have surrendered!"

This is a step.

Lisanro pulled his sword from the abdomen of a mercenary covered in blood, his eyes having shifted from initial bewilderment to fierce intensity. He looked at Tiberius, asking if he wished to continue.

"My dear Tiberius, let this farce end here," Lisandro's voice suddenly rang out, accompanied by a languid tone. "This bloody farce has already produced too many tragedies! Besides, mercy is a virtue of the Lord of Light!"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Yes! Compassion is a virtue!"

"Honorable Lord Lisanlo, and Lord Tiberius! Please forgive them!"

Tiberius did not answer, but looked at Lisanro.

Rissanro took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound calm and magnanimous: "Mario! And you lot! Now, admit defeat and apologize to me and my 'Team Lightning'! I might consider sparing your lives!"

At this moment, face and dignity meant nothing. Mario Ferrero was the first to throw down his sword, crying out, "We surrender! Rissanro! We surrender! We're sorry! Your army... is very strong! Spare us!"

The others also hurriedly threw down their weapons and begged for mercy.

Tiberius then waved his hand, and the Lightning Bolt made a small opening.

"You lot," he said, pointing at Mario and the other most prominent playboys, "can get out of here."

Those men, as if granted a pardon, scrambled and stumbled out of the encirclement in a disheveled state.

Just as Mario and his companions, feeling as if they'd been granted a reprieve, were scrambling to escape this nightmarish place, hastily passing through the tunnel formed by the "Blitzkrieg" soldiers—

"Hmph—Pah!"

A thick wad of phlegm was precisely spat onto Mario's magnificent armor.

Then came the second, the third… almost every soldier they passed spat at them. Accompanying the spittle were the soldiers' suppressed anger and contempt, low-pitched taunts, repeating Mario's earlier provocative words:

"Lightning Boy!"

"The son of the heroic governor!"

"Blood!"

"Let's liven things up, sir!"

Every spit, every taunt, was like an invisible slap across Mario and his companions' faces, more humiliating than any sword strike. Their faces turned ashen, yet they dared not utter a sound resistance, only able to lower their heads and flee the arena in utter disarray.

Then Tiberius turned his gaze to the remaining mercenaries and guards in the corner, who were pale-faced and trembling.

Most of these people were hired by Mario and his crew, or were armed servants from the family, brought by their masters to maintain appearances.

Tiberius's face was expressionless, only cold indifference remained.

"As for you..." His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a chill down everyone's spine.

"My soldiers," Tiberius said slowly, his gaze sweeping over his warriors who stood like rocks, their bodies splattered with the blood of their enemies, "are, as Mario Ferrero 'Master' said, a bunch of mules and donkeys... They only know how to work, they don't know what elegance or performance is."

He paused, looking at the desperate people as if they were livestock waiting to be slaughtered.

"This is an insult, and an insult needs to be apologized for."

"Therefore," he said with a gentle wave of his hand, delivering the final verdict.

"Lightning Squad, move out! Kill them all, leave no one alive!"

With the order given, the last hope was utterly extinguished.

The crossbow strings hummed, the spears thrust forward, and the javelins flew.

A brief, heart-wrenching scream and plea erupted from the corner, but were quickly drowned out by the dull thud of steel tearing flesh.

The soldiers of the "Lightning Regiment" faithfully carried out their orders without the slightest hesitation. For them, who were accustomed to even more desperate deaths in mines and sugarcane plantations, this scene was not even particularly cruel, but rather a kind of cathartic relief.

A moment later, the sounds from the corner completely disappeared.

Tiberius let out a long, satisfied sigh.

Finally, now, I can finally stand on my own two feet!