"Ah!" Fenmeer was the first to be knocked off his horse by a lance, and was soon led off the field as a "captive."
The second was Razi, the third was Razu, and each time he lost a teammate, Karl's brows furrowed tighter.
He still restrained his promise, but the halberd in his hand began to dance even faster, blocking new attacks for the remaining Aytok.
And when Captain Aytok was also knocked off his horse, Karl was the only one from the Nymphs team left on the field.
Suddenly, the booing grew louder, mixed with jeers, and someone started shouting.
"Nymphs team, get off the field!"
"Right, with that level, why even compete? It's just embarrassing!"
Karl was barely surrounded by the remnants of the four teams in the center. Four White Rose knights remained, their momentum still strong.
Elland and Maribor each had three players left, watching closely.
They exchanged glances and quickly reached a temporary silent agreement—first get rid of this last weirdo, then determine the winner.
From under the visor of the White Rose captain, Horace, came a mocking laugh: "Hahaha, you're the only one left, the Nymphs' lone wolf? Or should I say lone sheep?"
"Lay down your weapon and get off yourself to avoid getting hurt!"
An outburst of laughter echoed through the stands.
No one thought a single person, especially from a lower-tier team that had been mediocre before, could make a difference.
Ladies covered their mouths with their festive fans, exchanging pitying or contemptuous glances.
Karl took a deep breath, the smell of dust and hot blood filling his nostrils.
He looked around and saw that Aytok and the others who had fallen to the ground had been cleared.
Foltest took a sip of wine and shook his head slightly: "Alas, what a pity. That young man with the halberd is good, but alone, he can't manage."
Triss held her breath; she knew what was coming.
Karl had told her about his strength, but she had never seen it with her own eyes.
But now, Karl had no choice.
Keira parted her red lips, ready to make another jeer, but suddenly fell silent.
Karl on the field suddenly straightened his back and changed his stance, gripping the halberd.
The long polearm, which had seemed a bit "clumsy" earlier, now seemed alive in his hands.
He gently tapped the horse's belly, and "Cabbage" shot forward like an arrow released from a bowstring.
He no longer held a defensive stance but charged straight at the White Rose team.
Horace laughed: "Attacking alone? You're asking for death!"
The moment the two horses crossed, Karl's halberd swung like lightning.
It wasn't a slash or a thrust, but a precise sweep. The halberd struck Horace squarely on his breastplate.
The White Rose captain flew off his horse as if hit by a trebuchet, landing heavily on the grass three meters away.
In an instant, the entire audience fell silent.
Three knights from different teams simultaneously urged their horses, charging at him from three sides!
They raised their shields and swords, roared, their war hammers and lances raised!
In the stands, Triss suddenly clenched her fists.
At the critical moment, Karl moved.
No fancy tricks, just absolute speed and power.
He swung the halberd with one hand, and the heavy polearm actually drew a blurred afterimage in the air!
BANG! The first explosion.
A war hammer struck from the side, and its wielder, like Horace, flew off his horse.
He traced an exaggerated arc, crashing into Horace's side, spraying dust.
The knight struggled twice and stopped, clearly stunned by the terrifying force.
But this was only the beginning, in terms of maneuverability.
The iron spike at the halberd's tip swung like a scorpion's tail, extremely precise as it struck the side of a lance.
A clear CRACK sounded, and the lance's wooden shaft snapped in response!
The knight with the lance felt only an irresistible force, and his tiger's mouth split open.
He was carried forward, just in time to meet Karl, who swung the back end of his halberd.
BOOM! A dull thud rang out.
The knight tumbled off his horse like a discarded ragdoll.
Another knight's blunt sword was just striking down at Karl's head.
Karl didn't even look back; his halberd-wielding hand rose, and the shaft of the halberd perfectly caught the sword's blade and twisted it!
The knight felt only a terrifying spinning force coming from the sword, and his entire arm instantly went numb and painful.
The blunt sword flew from his hand and embedded itself in the ground in the distance with a roar.
He hadn't even recovered from the shock when Karl's warhorse had already passed by, and the tail of the halberd lightly touched his breastplate.
"Ugh!" He grunted, his vision went dark, and he fell from his horse.
In less than a single breath, three knights from different teams had been unhorsed!
All the previous jeers, boos, and discussions were caught in people's throats.
The ladies' feathered fans stopped in mid-air, their mouths slightly agape.
The eyes of the ordinary spectators widened, as if they couldn't believe what they had just seen.
No, what just happened?!
The remnants of the Nymphs team, that guy with the halberd, he... he took down three knights in an instant?
Foltest set down his goblet and straightened up, his sharp gaze fixed on the imposing figure on the field.
His fingers unconsciously tapped on the armrest, a rare, extremely interested expression appearing on his face.
Suddenly he spoke, asking Triss and the others: "Hmm... with this incredible strength, is he a Witcher?"
Fercart's eyes flickered, and he explained: "Your Majesty, the features of a Witcher are very distinct: amber cat-like eyes. This sir is definitely not a Witcher."
"And... even a Witcher could not possess such physical strength."
At the same time, he added in his heart: "How could a source sorcerer valued by Hen be a Witcher? Absurd!"
At that moment, Triss's heart was pounding in her chest, feelings of pride, anxiety, and relief intertwining, almost causing her Chaos magic to fluctuate slightly.
The battle on the field did not stop due to the audience's shock.
The remaining Elland knights, together with the Maribor knights and others,
stunned by this sudden turn and Karl's strength, their attacking momentum froze.
Immediately after, Karl didn't hesitate for a second, turned his horse, and charged at the Elland team.
The remaining six, shocked and angered, roared and welcomed him: "Surround him! Don't let him use the advantage of his long weapon!"
But it was too late.
The halberd in Karl's hand became a whirlwind of death.
Although the blade wasn't sharpened, each swing was devastatingly powerful, driven by the immense strength he possessed.
He no longer dodged but crushed them with the most direct and domineering method!
Karl's halberd swung again, knocking another member of the Maribor team off his horse.