The End of the Hero

After a stunning "public execution," the smell of charring still hung in the air, followed by a fierce Imperial Army assault.

Under the gloomy sky, the entire Kuttenberg seemed enveloped in a shroud of death.

The first to act was the Imperial Army's terrifying artillery.

Twelve heavy cannons, recently delivered to the camp, were slowly pushed to the front lines by soldiers, protected by large shields.

These giant cannons, like dormant steel beasts, ominously pointed their muzzles at Kuttenberg's city walls.

These cannons were not the Ofen cannons used for mobile warfare with the Wagenburg; they were practical siege mortars designed to breach walls, known as Styrian Giant Cannons, meticulously crafted by skilled artillery artisans in Graz.

Originally, the Imperial Army only had eight, but now, Laszlo had increased this number to twelve, solely to quickly destroy the city walls during the siege.

Transporting these multi-ton cannons was extremely difficult, with every inch of movement requiring immense manpower and time.

To bring them to the front lines, the civilian laborers responsible for artillery transport endured unimaginable hardships.

But at this moment, the power contained within these giant cannons made all efforts worthwhile.

They were like heavy hammers in the Imperial Army's hands, poised to shatter Kuttenberg's defenses.

"Fire!"

With a command, the twelve heavy stone-throwing cannons roared in unison, their deafening sound as if to tear the heavens and earth apart.

Heavy cannonballs whistled down like rain, smashing into the city walls, raising clouds of dust and fire.

Kuttenberg's city walls, under this fierce bombardment, began to collapse like fragile playing cards.

Bricks and stones flew, dust billowed, and soldiers who couldn't escape were swallowed by this sudden disaster, falling from the wall and mercilessly buried by earth and rubble.

Iri stood on the city wall, witnessing this tragic scene firsthand.

The collapse of the city wall was like a countdown of fate, announcing that this battle was about to enter its most brutal phase.

He knew this was his final battle.

But there was no hint of retreat or fear in his eyes; instead, they gleamed with resolute light.

He suddenly drew his sword, its blade reflecting a cold glint, and shouted loudly, "Warriors of Bohemia! The tyrant's iron hooves may destroy our bodies, but our spirit will live on forever! For freedom, for faith, follow me to kill the enemy!"

His voice, like an impassioned battle hymn, echoed across the smoke-filled battlefield.

Inspired by him, the remaining Hussite soldiers gripped their weapons, their eyes burning with an unyielding flame, ready to fight the Imperial Army to the death.

These soldiers, some in rags, some heavily wounded, now held only one belief: to protect their homeland, to protect the freedom and faith in their hearts.

As the city walls collapsed, the surging Imperial Army poured into the castle like a tide.

They shouted slogans, held their spears, swung their longswords, and charged into the city.

The two sides engaged in fierce street fighting in the narrow streets of the city.

The Hussite soldiers used their familiar terrain to skirmish with the Imperial Army.

They launched continuous attacks from house windows and from dark corners of the streets.

However, the Imperial Army had an absolute advantage in numbers and equipment, and soon, the Hussite soldiers were steadily pushed back.

Many Hussite rebels, unable to resist, were forced by the Imperial Army to drop their weapons and surrender.

Their eyes were filled with despair and unwillingness, but under the threat of death, they could only abandon their last dignity.

However, Iri did not give up.

He personally led a squad of elite soldiers, defending the castle's central square, engaging in a desperate struggle with the Imperial Army.

Iri wielded his longsword, charging at the very front.

His swordsmanship was fierce, each swing of his sword accompanied by a whistling sound, as he vigorously struck down every enemy in his path.

However, the Imperial Army soldiers were simply too numerous, seemingly endless, impossible to kill them all.

More and more Hussite rebels, forced back to this spot but unwilling to give up resistance, joined Iri's ranks.

They tightly surrounded Iri, forming a sturdy defense line.

But as the battle continued, Iri's forces dwindled.

Warriors around him fell one by one, their bodies and blood covering the square.

Finally, only a dozen warriors remained by Iri's side, and the Imperial Army's encirclement was closing in step by step.

Laszlo, riding a tall steed, arrived at the edge of the castle's central square, meticulously escorted by his personal guards, after passing through the city gate.

He looked at Iri, who was heavily surrounded by Imperial Army warriors, a complex expression on his face.

"Iri, I once gave you a chance, but you refused to cherish it."

Laszlo feigned regret, but in reality, his heart was greatly invigorated.

His most troublesome enemy was now before him, on the verge of defeat—could there be anything more joyful than this?

Iri sneered, cut down an Imperial soldier who charged at him, then loudly retorted, "I only regret that I didn't seize the chance to kill Albrecht with one blow back then; that's why we have this outcome today."

Iri's words were full of anger and unwillingness, and also a hint of mockery.

Laszlo nearly laughed in anger when he heard Iri's retort.

Thinking back, Iri defeated his father, Albrecht II, in 1439, forcing him to sign an agreement granting Bohemia great autonomy.

The defeated Albrecht returned home, and soon after, in 1440, Laszlo was born.

Iri's words, in essence, insulted both him and his father.

However, as the victor, Laszlo was indifferent to such a defeated dog's barking at this moment.

He merely said nonchalantly, "Say what you will, Austria will have the last laugh."

With Laszlo's command, the Imperial Army's assault intensified.

The soldiers, like enraged beasts, lunged towards Iri's position.

Iri's soldiers grew fewer and fewer, and finally, he was surrounded by dozens of Imperial soldiers.

Although he resisted fiercely, wielding his longsword so densely that no air could pass, he was ultimately outnumbered.

After a fierce struggle, Iri, in an unguarded moment, was pierced through the back by an Imperial soldier's spear.

His body trembled violently, and his longsword fell from his hand.

This rebel leader slowly collapsed into a pool of blood, his eyes still shining with unyielding light.

Iri's death meant the imminent demise of the Hussite rebels.

The fighting within Kuttenberg gradually subsided; the remaining Hussite soldiers were either annihilated or surrendered.

Laszlo walked through the castle ruins, looking at the chaotic scene before him, his heart filled with the joy of victory.

Broken walls, burning houses, and mountains of corpses—all of it, in his eyes, symbolized his triumph.

"Your Majesty, Iri has fallen in battle, and the Hussite rebels within the city have been completely annihilated."

Adolf came to Laszlo's side and reported in a deep voice.

This marshal once again witnessed his hometown bathed in blood, only this time, he was one of the perpetrators.

His heart was a mix of emotions; he didn't know whether he should be joyful or sad.

Laszlo nodded, then after a moment of silence, said, "Bury Iri's body properly. Although he was my enemy, he was also a worthy warrior."

Laszlo's words carried a hint of respect for Iri.

Although their positions differed, Iri's bravery and tenacity still earned his recognition.

Adolf nodded in agreement, then said, "Your Majesty, next, it's time to go to Prague."

Prague, that was the core stronghold of the Hussites and a hotbed of religious rebellion.

Laszlo took a deep breath and slowly said, "Yes, that is the last den of heresy. This time, I will completely eradicate it. From now on, there will be no King of Bohemia who cannot enter Prague! Have the troops quickly clear the battlefield. We will rest for one day and then march directly to Prague!"

His voice was firm and strong, full of confidence in future victory.

Adolf nodded in affirmation, then went to convey Laszlo's orders.

Laszlo came to a high point in the castle, looking at the devastated Kuttenberg, his mind filled with thoughts.

This victory was just the beginning; there was still a long way to go to completely control Bohemia.

However, it was fortunate that the biggest obstacle on this path had already been removed.