Reincarnated as a boss tyrant in the game

Although the magic cannons possess immense power and can inflict devastating blows upon enemies in an instant, they are not without their weaknesses.

The supply of magic is one issue; such a potent magical attack inevitably consumes a vast amount of magic.

Even with the empire's abundant magic reserves, an unlimited supply is impossible.

Furthermore, as a powerful war machine, the magic cannon itself will inevitably suffer wear and tear on its internal structure from prolonged continuous firing, preventing it from operating continuously.

“Issue the order: the infantry continues to charge! Do not stop!” Prince Olga commanded loudly, his voice carrying an undeniable air of authority.

He hoped to force the Autriff army's magic cannons to continue firing through the relentless infantry charges, thereby discovering their breaking point.

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Upon receiving the order, the infantrymen, despite their hearts filled with fear, steeled themselves and marched heavily towards the Autriff army's camp.

They knew that this charge was likely a one-way trip, but they had no choice; they could only obey orders and use their flesh and blood to probe the magic cannons' true capabilities for the border kings.

The Autriff army's magic cannons continued to roar, with blossoming shells whistling towards the charging infantry.

Infantrymen fell continuously amidst the cannon fire, their blood staining the earth red, and screams of agony echoed incessantly.

However, Prince Olga remained unmoved; his eyes held only a thirst for victory and a determination to discover the magic cannons' limits.

“Charge again! Keep charging!” he shouted hoarsely, as if driven to madness.

In his mind, as long as he could uncover the magic cannons' limits, any sacrifice was worthwhile.

And under his persistence, this brutal battle became increasingly tragic, with both sides giving their all for their respective goals.

As wave after wave of infantry charged towards the Autriff army's camp, their bodies fell continuously, and blood flowed freely, staining the earth a dark red. After continuous firing, the Autriff army's magic cannons finally showed signs of fatigue.

The originally rapid-fire rate of the cannon shells gradually decreased.

The thick smoke emanating from the magic cannons' muzzles also seemed to thin out somewhat, no longer as continuous as before. Border King Olga had been closely monitoring the battlefield situation, keenly capturing this subtle change.

A glint of excitement flashed in his eyes as he secretly affirmed in his heart: the magic cannons' limit is finally approaching!

“Have the Knights Order reorganize and attack again!” Border King Olga roared loudly, his voice echoing across the battlefield, carrying a sense of desperate determination.

He hoped that the Knights Order could seize this opportunity to break through the Autriff army's defenses in one fell swoop, securing victory in this battle for them.

However, just as his words fell, an unforeseen event occurred.

Within the Autriff army's camp, a burst of stirring bugle calls suddenly rang out.

Immediately afterward, two elite Knights Orders—the Ironblood Knights Order and the Imperial Knights Order—charged out of the camp like black torrents. Their armor gleamed coldly in the sunlight, their lances pointed forward, bearing down menacingly on the rebel army's direction.

Behind these two Knights Orders, there were also about one hundred thousand cavalrymen following closely, launching a charge together.

The sound of hooves was like thunder, shaking the earth, and the dust raised blotted out the sun.

The Autriff army's cavalrymen shouted, their voices seemingly shattering the sky. They were like tigers descending the mountain, unstoppable.

Border King Olga watched helplessly as the Autriff army's Ironblood Knights Order and Imperial Knights Order charged like tigers descending the mountain, followed by that mighty host of about one hundred thousand cavalrymen. His expression instantly turned as grave as iron.

A hint of panic flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination.

The knights of the Ironblood Knights Order and the Imperial Knights Order, riding tall warhorses and wielding sharp blades, relentlessly crushed the infantrymen's defenses like a black torrent.

The infantrymen screamed, knocked down by warhorses, pierced by lances, blood splattering everywhere, corpses strewn across the field.

Immediately afterward, this fierce torrent of cavalry crashed into the rebel army's formation.

They charged left and right, and wherever they went, the rebel soldiers were thrown into disarray, unable to mount an effective resistance.

The Autriff army's cavalrymen cooperated seamlessly, their lances like forests, their blades like lightning, disrupting the rebel army's formation.

At this moment, the Autriff army's infantry also joined this brutal slaughter.

They held shields and spears, advancing in an orderly manner, cooperating with the cavalry to form a siege against the rebel army.

For a time, shouts of battle, screams of agony, and the clash of weapons intertwined, turning the entire battlefield into a living hell.

This slaughter continued from noon until the next morning, with both sides paying a heavy price.

Although the Autriff army initially had the upper hand, after a long period of fighting, their combat power gradually declined, entering a state of decline.

The soldiers were exhausted, wounded, and their fighting strength was greatly reduced.

The four alien border kings had been observing the situation from the edge of the battlefield. Seeing the Autriff army showing signs of fatigue, a glint of excitement flashed in their eyes.

When the four alien border kings seized the opportunity when the Autriff army's combat power was exhausted and their formation was in chaos, their eyes flickered with excitement and greed, like hungry wolves seeing dying prey.

“Charge! Crush them!” The Icefield King let out a deafening roar. He rode atop a massive frost dire wolf, emanating a ghostly green glow. The dire wolf howled to the sky, its voice shaking the wilderness, and then charged towards the Autriff army like black lightning.

The Icefield King gripped a jagged magic blade in his hand, the blade flowing with a strange purple mist. During the charge, he constantly waved the magic blade, carving out twisted spatial rifts. Wherever it passed, the air seemed to be torn apart.

The Desert King, riding a flame-maned war steed engulfed in raging flames, was like a moving firestorm. He wore black armor inlaid with rubies, and the flame crystal lance in his hand spewed out scorching flames.

As he charged, the ground was scorched and cracked, and trails of fire spread behind him.

The Desert King roared as he charged: “Today is your doomsday!” The magic contained in his voice caused the Autriff soldiers around him to bleed from their ears and become dizzy.

The Highland King, the tallest and most robust of them all, rode an ancient behemoth-like elephant. Each step the elephant took caused the earth to tremble.