The Demon King Seems to Conquer the World

Delaro Feezer was a magnificent man entrusted with the post of Forty Horsemen in the Third Corps of the Knights of the Sacrament, the First Cavalry Battalion.

In the old-fashioned, itchy military system of the Knights, the cavalry has eight horsemen as a set, and 40 horsemen with five of them as a large set.

In contrast, the infantry will be formed into ten groups, and ten groups will be formed into large groups.

Some say that the remnants of the time when the cavalry was called aristocracy originally came from the sacred four letters (tetragrammatons).

Delaro was in a position to be entrusted with one of those large groups of forty horsemen.

Given that the cost of a cavalry ride is not the ratio of one infantry, it can be described as a major role inside.

But Delaro was now leading just seven rides through the far north.

Eight horsemen, including myself.

While in a forty man long position, only seven horsemen are with them, not that their men have died or been demoted.

Because the squad is shrinking and adapting in this unusual landing operation.

For this reason, the other 32 have been placed on the front line with the great army.

For more than a decade after being appointed chief of forty, it was unwillingness to crack the squad that had been working out, but if it was the life of the archbishop, it was no denial.

Now Delaro was looking for enemies ahead of him from the main unit as a scourge.

The horse does not increase his speed so much and is running at a speed of about fast feet.

I have been ordered to scout at full speed, but I could not rush any further.

Not enough feed has been given because it is an operation that protrudes on enemy land.

Worse yet, the road is all the way up the hill.

If we hurry any further, the horse will crumble.

As he watched the horse's condition, Delaro was carefully vigilant and observant of his surroundings.

Originally, the job of scouting is to keep your eyes on the plate, whilst keeping your ears shut, and maintaining tension is crucial.

But Delaro, who was poetry in his hobby, could not help but feel something from the landscape that came into his eyes.

From the earth frozen in winter and marked by constant signs of life, as early summer and grass sprouts, it is reminiscent of the original cleansing from which life was born.

Clear air and looking good to distant landscapes may also have played a role in fostering that image.

Another forest of different botanical phases from home.

As I walked my horse in it, I remembered the illusion as if I had strayed into another world.

The time was close to noon, when the cold accumulated during the night was paid off, and Delaro was in a clear mood when he said he was in the middle of an enemy land.

In the air, Sung, there was something smelly.

The smell of charcoal... the smell of smoke.

"Can't you smell the smoke?

Delaro said.

"I will"

"Slightly"

My men answered orally.

After all, it doesn't seem like a mistake.

"Maybe the refugees' asses are close."

And the older men say.

Indeed, in this situation, it may have been the burning, or forgotten extinguishing, of the refugees who are hassled to leave until this hour.

Alternatively, it could be lunch cooking.

"Stay alert."

Delaro, without slowing down the horse's speed, tightened his mind and said.

Delaro has not, in fact, carried out reconnaissance missions exclusively, but he knows the place.

While it is most desirable for reconnaissance, especially in such scouting missions, to be discovered unnoticed by the enemy and ahead of time, in some cases it can be an encounter.

That's not a failure in a way, but it remains that in these woods, it's an accidental encounter, not a plain with a good view.

The most dangerous and must be avoided is if the enemy anticipates a reconnaissance raid in advance and intends not to let it go home alive.

I mean, an ambush.

If you enter a trap from yourself, like a beast in a trap of a lockdown ceremony, the enemy intended to ambush you will completely block your back and annihilate your scouts.

Delaro knew many groups of people who stopped coming home that way.

"Ha! Got it."

That's what the crew answered verbally.

The team then moves on further.

From where I smelled it, I reached the place before proceeding much further.

The place was where a straight path along the river pierced the cliff at a gentle angle.

Of course, there is no choice but to stick it straight into the cliff, so the road is bent to the "Kuno Letter” there.

So the right hand had become a forest with poor prospects, hiding the road ahead, but what Delaro was paying attention to was not there.

At the end of the road to the cliff was open sight, and at the end was a cliff with a shredded river.

Thanks for dressing up like an observation deck at the scenic spot, where the valley and the mountains just a long way away can be seen together.

The valley was so deep that it was no longer more right to call it the valley.

And beyond that, a bridge was visible where it was an important element of the operation.

Perhaps that's what the upstream bridge described in the ops conference was about.

burned (...) eh (...) and (...) i (...).

The bridge was already smoking and the whole thing was on fire.

White grey smoke blows into a loose breeze and is now bouncing east.

What I smelled was a slight change in the wind direction and a temporary flow of smoke downstream.

Delaro, while blinded by shocking circumstances, smashes up the scenic spectacle.

Does the fact that the bridge is on fire mean that no one is on this side anymore?

I thought.

Here comes the enemy, drop the bridge.

That's what happens on every battlefield, east and west.

If it were a dry wooden bridge, it would be quicker to burn it than to smash it with an axe.

But that's only about the enemy (...) coming (...) or (...) et (...).

The enemy hasn't come yet.

To be precise, we're just in contact.

Drop the bridge at that point...

There are numerous ruthless commanders who do not care about the people, but it is only cowardly that they are unable to burn down bridges and pass without any imminent threat whatsoever.

Think very commonsense and wait for your enemies to attack you, which means you'll do it after the threat is imminent.

That means the enemy has already crossed, and from now on to the bridge, there is no one left.

Since the crossing was completed, the bridge was dropped just as it had been used.

That will be the most likely case.

Delaro, contemplating such things, was caricaturally advancing his horse.

"Enemy to the right!

It was his men who shouted so.

Delaro was distracted by the inflamed bridge and the reflection on it, and had gone as far as the inflection point of the "Kuno Letter”.

Looking at the end of the road, which Delaro hastily refracted, about twenty meters earlier, there was something like a simple barrier made of wood.

There are, a few - maybe thirty - long-eared boys and girls of good age, looking at this one as they stick out their spears.

I don't know... it feels like a little bit of a controlled bandit or something is building a handmade defensive wall and doing something like defensive warfare.

but that's just it, and instead of the artillery, it doesn't look like they're shooting arrows at me.

Nor does it appear that it is coming from the position.

Delaro asked how they were doing as they rolled up and carried their horses in a circle because there was no attack for one second.

I moved to the winding to prevent the sniping of arrows.

Exactly, I don't even have one of the bows and arrows.

It was not surprising that we could see enemies but not shoot arrows, because it is common for passive enemies.

Arrows are surprisingly expensive and unnumbered when you want to use them.

In that little bunch, you might not even have a hundred.

I can't use precious arrows for people I know are scouts. If you think you're sparing it with that intent, it wasn't weird.

What bothered me more than that was that the voice of instruction heard from the small crowd was a voice like a woman.

"... don't have a woman's voice. But that..."

Delaro narrowed his eyes.

A blonde exposes her hair at all costs and rides an example flying bird.

And he's giving orders out loud and dignified.

It just sounds busy, but of course Delaro didn't know what the words were about.

"Hey, Dietzsche. Can't you see the unusual woman?"

Dietzsche is the most eye-catching young man in the squad.

"I do have blonde hair...... or there's another one. Two blondes?"

It was only a little over twenty meters away, so it also looked like Delaro.

The other girl is kind of cat-backed, weakly across the horse, doing nothing.

"Oh, my God."

One of the crew said.

Sure, having blonde hair in front of them is outrageous.

I've never seen a single beast (unicorn) on the market, but I've never seen a blonde long ear.

Two phantom beasts appeared in front of me. There is such a feeling.

The enemy doesn't look set up even this time of year.

It was a battlefield gesture about when to set it up, but if this is the case, you may take out the binoculars and observe them carefully.

If you use your binoculars at this distance, you'll know exactly how to look on your face.

"What shall we do? Do you want to go in?"

My men have a fever in their voice.

If you capture a blonde princess here, you can get fame that isn't worth a thousand bucks.

Delaro and I didn't think about it for a moment.

"... No, our mission is a scourge. Plus, they're pretty well numbered. There's only one chance."

Copy that.

And that was when my men said it.

"Guh!"

I heard a strange voice, and when I looked at you, Dietzsche, who was in the woods, had been stabbed.

What you're stabbing is a long patterned spear.

Its spear-hander appeared just from the ground now, sticking a rotten, wet dead leaf around his body, sticking his spear to the side of Dietzsche on his horse.

The man who stabbed him, all he had was a spear and had no protective equipment on him, and he was soaked and wet with dirt water.

He lay low in the dirt.

× × ×

When the decree of unintelligible significance was taken, those dressed alike appeared from all around them, speared and penetrated.

"Retreat I!!!

Delaro shouted so, returning the horse's head.

Damn, it's bent.

Look at the end of the road, bite your teeth.

The road was slightly refracted in front of me.

It's downhill, so horses should be able to scatter walking humans at a glance if they're meant to be.

However, due to the bending of the road, it takes time to get the speed on, albeit slightly.

It was the difference between life and death.

"Ugh!"

Next door, I heard an old ginseng soldier I was used to hearing.

I look at you as I manipulate the horse.

From the gap in the flanking armor, he was growing a spear.

He grabbed a spear when the boulder seemed like a fierce warrior.

To prevent twisting and spreading wounds, and to prevent spears from being pulled out.

"Fuck off!

I cut off the spear pattern without pulling out the knife.

but the few seconds I took to do the deed were my life.

Spears attacked one after the other from outside the blade area, poking and stabbing all over his body.

Delaro turned the curve as he took his eyes off the tragic scene and manipulated the horse at a speed.

At the end of the curve, I guess he was lurking with rotten leaves all over his body. Similar people put spears here, too.

"Retreat, retreat wi!

Delaro stuck to the gap between the spear and the spear, screaming.

I just thought I was lucky to get out of there.

And then, without giving me a glance, I went back down the road at a glance.