King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

"Scatter! Don't fight him head-on!"

Upon hearing Wayne's words, Wemon and his men, who were preparing to besiege Eric, quickly changed their tactics. Instead of blocking him head-on, they took advantage of the complex terrain of the urban warfare to launch attacks from the sides and rear.

One of them thrust a spear at Eric's back. Eric turned and slashed, severing the spear, but the cavalryman with the spear had already retreated behind the house.

Another person jumped off the roof, attempting to use the force of the fall to tackle Eric.

Eric simply nudged the man with his shoulder, and the man was sent flying as if he had hit a wall.

Clearly, their attacks had little effect.

"Useless! All of you are useless!"

Eric roared, his dark red eyes turning even more bloodshot in the battle.

To make matters worse, other bandits also rushed in.

The dozen or so ordinary bandits, though far less capable in combat than Eric, had a clear numerical advantage.

Taking advantage of Eric's distraction of Wayne and the others, they began to systematically eliminate the cavalry hiding in the houses.

Eric kicked down a pillar of a wooden house, causing the roof to collapse. Two cavalrymen hiding inside fled in disarray, only to be immediately cut down by the bandits who surrounded them.

Another house was set on fire, and the thick smoke forced out the archers hiding in the attic.

The defenses are collapsing rapidly.

Wayne was being relentlessly pursued by Eric, leaving him no time to give orders.

Although Hank and Anke fought desperately, the ferocity of the ordinary mountain bandits exceeded expectations—these desperados were not afraid of death at all, and their desperate fighting style of exchanging wounds for wounds hampered the cavalry.

Another alley was breached, and three bandits rushed in, slashing at An Ke who was blocking with their machetes!

Just then—

"clang!"

A pitchfork extended from the side, blocking the machete.

An Ke was taken aback and turned to look.

It is Tite.

The village chief Tiki's son, a young man who was usually taciturn but worked the hardest in the fields.

Behind him followed seven or eight able-bodied men from the village—some carrying hoes, some holding machetes, and two even carrying homemade bows and arrows!

"Everyone!"

Tite's voice trembled slightly, but it was filled with clear anger: "The village... we can't let them destroy it!"

Wayne also witnessed this scene.

A surge of emotion welled up within him—these villagers, these people he had always regarded as "resources" and "labor force," were now standing on the battlefield, wielding the crudest weapons.

For their own home.

Although the young villagers were untrained, they knew the village's terrain like the back of their hand.

Instead of engaging in direct combat, they used the gaps between houses to move through, launching surprise attacks from unexpected angles, hooking legs with hoes, slashing backs with machetes, and harassing with homemade arrows.

The battlefield situation has once again reached a stalemate.

Wayne, however, dared not relax even for a moment.

He had been fighting Eric for almost ten minutes, and his strength was more than half exhausted. His right hand, which was gripping the sword, had almost lost all feeling.

Even so, he did not reveal his trump card—the crampons.

This is a killer move.

September 3rd, Arthurian calendar 324.

You choose to grit your teeth and block the sword blade in front of you.

But you soon regretted it—why had you been practicing such a double-edged sword?

The journal continues to issue warnings, but the entries are getting longer—the reason is…

After such a long period of maneuvering, and after changing strategies more than a dozen times in response to the instant-death attacks of this big, dumb guy in front of him...

Wayne has already gotten used to his offensive rhythm!

In other words, the diary has now transformed from an alarm device that helps one avoid death to a beacon of light for counterattacks and avoiding wrong options!

Wayne immediately abandoned the idea of ​​blocking a blow to create an opportunity for a surprise attack, and instead dodged to the side as Eric charged at him.

Eric's cleaver missed its target and struck the ground hard, sending shards of stone flying.

It's now!

Instead of retreating, Wayne advanced, thrusting his sword with his right hand toward Eric's exposed throat as he exerted force!

Eric roared and grabbed the blade with his left hand!

"puff!"

The sword tip pierced his palm, but was firmly held.

Eric had already raised the machete in his right hand—

September 3rd, Arthurian calendar 324.

You sacrificed yourself heroically, but your village also failed to withstand the enemy's offensive.

Wayne's pupils contracted, and then a fierce thought flashed through his mind!

Without hesitation, he released his sword, lowered his body, and condensed his ice claws with all his might, aiming for Eric's abdomen!

This is gambling.

If Eric's knife falls first, he's doomed.

But the journal isn't responding!

Eric's choice was to sheathe his sword and parry.

The icicles that sprouted from his own hands terrified him.

This monster, which is impervious to arrows and sword wounds, still instinctively chose to defend itself when faced with such a dangerous and deadly attack.

The crampons clashed with the machete once more.

This time, Wayne was prepared; at the moment of impact, his left hand suddenly spread its five fingers wide—

"Bang!"

The crampons exploded!!

Countless tiny ice crystal fragments transformed into a halo of light, turning Eric's already red hands a dark red—the frostbite effect of the halo was a danger that even Frostraven glands themselves were warning of!

Then, frost covered Eric's body, and his movements slowed down considerably for a moment.

Wien seized the opportunity, dodged under his armpit, and once again swung his left hand toward the body of the third bandit leader.

At the same time, he gathered all the icy energy he had accumulated over a long period of time into his left hand and condensed it into... a thin ice blade!

"ah--!"

Eric let out a beast-like howl.

Wayne didn't stop at all; the moment the ice blade was drawn, he immediately stabbed it towards his throat while spinning around—

……

Long before Wayne arrived, the villagers hated the bandits to the core—especially during their first year in office, when the villagers were completely unprepared for the bandits' plunder and exploitation.

That winter, nearly 30% of the village's population starved or froze to death!

The disease outbreak caused by the failure to dispose of the bodies in time led to the deaths of some elderly people and villagers who were short of food in February, just as spring was approaching.

But that wasn't the end of it—the following spring famine forced people, who had already exhausted their food supplies, to start chewing grass and gnawing on trees... It was only thanks to the strong men who disregarded their own safety by going out to hunt, gather wild fruits, and wade into the icy river to catch lean fish that they managed to survive.

For most villagers, they were unprotected in the North and had to find ways to coexist with bandits and the barren North through years of increasing hardship.

But the young people in the village, led by Tite, will never forget that winter when many friends and neighbors left, nor will they forget their childhood of hunger and bullying.

They hated the bandits, hated the inactive sentries, and hated everything that caused them pain and made even survival difficult.

Therefore, they will seize every opportunity with all their might:

Previously it was a rabbit and a fish.

Now, it's these thugs who are trampling them underfoot!

Tite, spearhead in hand, charged ahead, killing two enemies he had cursed a thousand times over. A surge of rage had clouded his judgment as he navigated the familiar terrain.

With his comrades providing cover, he took down many enemies in front of him, but before him lay the blade of the last enemy.

Will he, like that lovely girl next door who he played games with and watched the stream with since childhood, fall ill in winter, struggle to survive until the spring famine but still leaves, and perish before the true spring?

"puff……"

The splattered blood on Tite made him tremble all over.

But then he realized it too late!

This blood isn't his... but from an enemy whose head was pierced by a gleaming silver sword!

That sword was really cool—he had peeked at it countless times from the corner these past few days, but had never gotten this close before.