Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: I Came, I Fought, I Won (2)
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He should have realized long ago that it was all a trap.
It was a simple ploy that the usual Oscar von Nightheart could have easily predicted.
Yet he hadn't noticed it.
He had no shortage of excuses.
First, his mind was still foggy since he'd only recently regained consciousness.
Second, everything had unfolded far too quickly.
And decisively, he never imagined there could be madmen in this world willing to charge fourteen thousand elite heavy cavalry at a force like his.
There were countless other reasons why Thracia's cavalry wouldn't strike the main body.
But in the end, they were all just excuses.
"It's a feint to the east, strike to the west! The enemy's main force is on the left flank!"
By the time he belatedly realized the truth, a significant portion of his main body's heavy cavalry had already joined the right flank.
He bit his lip.
Turning those units back to the left now would only throw his lines into chaos.
He had to make a decision.
"Left flank! Prepare for heavy cavalry engagement!"
Fortunately, the left flank still had ample forces remaining.
A thousand pike-wielding infantry he'd personally trained, plus a thousand heavy infantry armed with glaives and plate armor.
That should be enough to hold them off, he thought.
It was a complacent assumption.
"Left flank! First defensive line has collapsed!"
The pikemen, who hadn't yielded an inch to Kazan's cavalry, fled in terror without even fighting, abandoning their pikes.
Even then, it only stung his pride—he didn't think the line had truly been breached.
The Astoria forces had learned through countless battles how to handle Thracia's ferocious cavalry.
Harass from afar, block up close, drag them from their mounts.
The left flank's heavy infantry were the elite finishers of that doctrine.
Oscar von Nightheart was convinced that no Thracia cavalry charge could break them.
He was wrong.
"Second defensive line breached! Heavy infantry are fighting desperately, but the situation is dire!"
Even his trusted heavy infantry had only bought a little more time than the pikemen.
"How...?"
It made no sense.
Unlike the collapsed pikemen, the heavy infantry were different.
They were a unit modeled after the renowned Reisläufer from the mercenary nation of Schweiz, trained over years to mimic their gear and tactics exactly.
After pouring in vast budgets and time, Astoria's heavy infantry had finally achieved armor tough enough to withstand lance impacts and the means to effectively unhorse cavalry.
And in the previous war, they'd proven that investment worthwhile against the Bluecoats.
He had no doubt they'd hold off Thracia's cavalry this time too.
"What makes them so different...?"
That faith now crumbled before his eyes.
"Thracia forces! Second wave impact! Heavy infantry... c-can't hold!"
Oscar von Nightheart snapped back to reality at the messenger's scream-like report.
"Begin the magic barrage. Target: Thracia cavalry."
"B-but the heavy infantry..."
"This is our last chance while they're tying up the enemy."
He made the decision with a heart like it was bleeding.
But that hard-won call was rendered moot before it could even start.
"Enemy mage corps preemptively casting! Our mages assuming defensive posture!"
The timid mages entering defensive posture meant they wouldn't expend a scrap of mana on this battlefield unless their own safety was assured.
"Second defensive line... has fallen."
To make matters worse, the heavy infantry—nearly bombed by their own side—saw their morale plummet, and their already shaky lines collapsed entirely.
"Commander! Thracia forces charging straight for us!"
Only now did Oscar von Nightheart understand.
How the vanguard led by his dear Fabian Franz had crumbled.
"Crossbowmen. Fire."
The pre-positioned crossbowmen moved to intercept.
But he held little hope.
And as expected...
"Th-they're coming!"
The enemy front line, shrugging off the volley, trampled the crossbowmen mercilessly.
"Heavy guards! Protect the commander!"
Even as the heavy guards formed up with desperate resolve, no one believed they could stop the breakthrough.
"Commander! Use this opening—now!"
"Escort the commander!"
Dragged along by his staff and knights, he still glared at the Thracia forces.
He spotted a Bluecoat leading the cavalry at the vanguard.
The moment he saw him, he knew.
That was the cavalry commander.
Was it his imagination?
"......"
For a moment, it felt like their eyes met.
It wasn't his imagination.
Right after, the man wheeled his horse toward them.
Even without proper anti-cavalry weapons, he trampled Astoria's top-tier heavy infantry like they were conscripts, his defense and skill unmatched.
Pfuk.
The Bluecoat casually sliced the armpit of a heavy infantryman right in front of him, finally halting before Oscar.
Chak.
Even riddled with arrows, the cavalry commander stood ramrod straight, blue blood dripping from his eyes.
"...,,,"
The cavalry commander spoke in Thracia tongue.
The blue blood smirked faintly within his helm.
Ah...
In that instant, his mind went black.
The din around him faded.
The chaotic battlefield vanished from sight.
All that remained was the arrogant cavalry commander looking down at him in pitch darkness.
His heart clenched tight.
He couldn't twitch a finger.
It was like being stripped naked and thrown into a beast's den.
It was a terrifying experience beyond anything he'd endured in life.
His vow not to show weakness to some mere cavalry commander as Astoria's supreme commander evaporated entirely.
So that's what it was.
He understood instinctively.
Why the heavy infantry fell so easily.
The difference between the Bluecoats he'd faced before and these ones.
It was because of him.
The presence or absence of this inhuman cavalry commander made all the difference.
Srck.
He came to his senses to find the chinstrap of his helm severed.
Plunk.
The cavalry commander flicked off his helm with his sword.
".......?"
Doubt filled the cavalry commander's voice upon seeing his revealed face.
But only for a moment.
"......."
The blue blood smirked faintly again.
The cavalry commander raised his sword high.
Light flashed before his eyes.
That deadly gleam was Oscar von Nightheart's final memory.
"Ack."
When he awoke with a cry, the battle was long over, and the Astoria forces were scattered in full retreat.
"Oscar! You're awake?"
"Fabian? How are you here? Am I dead too?"
"Hahaha. That's the funniest joke you've ever made!"
".......?"
"...Not a joke?"
Before him stood his aide, whom he'd thought dead.
"When I came to, two weeks had already passed. I rushed back with my men, then sensed magic omens from afar. Hurried over to find the Thracia bastards locked in battle with the main body."
He stared blankly at the scar slashing across his aide's once-handsome face, who then explained what had happened.
"You have no idea how shocked I was. There you were, collapsed alone—no guards, them on the brink of annihilation, everyone else fleeing for their lives."
"...Alone?"
"Yes! Just you, Oscar, all by yourself! No guards around. Seeing you there like that... my heart nearly stopped. But you're alive—I'm overjoyed."
His aide repeated how fortunate it was, his face full of relief.
But Oscar von Nightheart felt no joy, no relief at all.
"Why am I still alive?"
He couldn't fathom why the cavalry commander, who could have taken his life at will, had let him go.
Questions piled up.
But no answers came, no matter how he racked his brain.
For a natural genius born with keen insight, the unknown was terror itself—and those questions led straight to its source.
Shiver.
The faintly smirking blue blood flashed in his mind like a phantom.
His body began trembling uncontrollably.
"Wha—?"
"Oscar? Oscar!"
He steadied himself against the desk, barely keeping balance.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. Just a dizzy spell."
The vertigo and chills passed soon enough.
But...
Crunch.
The sensation of his heart shriveling remained.
As if an invisible hand gripped it tight.
**
The three-nation war, which dragged on for six full months, ended in victory for Thracia and the Kazan alliance.
Astoria's casualties exceeded 12,000 from the southern army and 19,000 from reinforcements—over 31,000 total, more than half their mobilizable forces.
The mage corps suffered catastrophic losses too; among the reinforcements, only a handful in the rearguard survived.
Some 15,000 prisoners fell to Thracia, including hundreds of nobles and officers.
Had supreme commander Oscar von Nightheart not rallied the scattered remnants late in the game, the toll would have been worse.
Astoria was permanently expelled from its southernmost borderlands and lost all influence in the west.
It was the most humiliating defeat in Astoria's history.
Oscar von Nightheart was stripped of his generalship and court-martialed.
His hidden lineage emerged during the trial, leading to a mere reprimand.
But he couldn't keep his post, so he served as a mere legion commander.
After the fall of Oscar von Nightheart—the man who'd led the charge for Astoria's military modernization—Astoria prioritized noble-led reconstruction over rebuilding its shattered army, signing a mutual defense pact with the Hermann Empire and effectively becoming a vassal state.
This sparked the creation of an anti-Empire alliance centered on Thracia, triggering rapid changes in Thracia, Kazan, and other kingdoms.
But that was in the distant future.
For now, Thracia and Kazan focused on postwar matters.
Their victory over Astoria was an alliance win on paper.
But Kazan could hardly claim victory outright.
All their gains stemmed from Thracia's goodwill.
Plus, Kazan faced the need to prepare for Astoria's confirmed military push to reclaim the west.
In truth, Thracia was the sole real winner.
They'd crushed Astoria's persistent southern ambitions once and for all.
Thracia command estimated at least twenty years before Astoria could invade again.
With Kazan tied up securing the west and checking Astoria, Thracia enjoyed unprecedented peace, basking in victory.
Royal and noble newspapers churned out articles daily.
Even illiterate commoners hounded readers to recite the news—and the most popular by far were stories of a certain cavalry commander.
No Thracia loved the tale of the lone commander who'd single-handedly turned the tide of a war tilting toward Astoria.
No man didn't idolize him.
Youths flocked to enlist in the Northern Army.
Those who survived the brutal war became the core of the continent's largest mobile legion, the Pántserna Fala, growing into the young supreme commander's staunchest allies and pillars of strength...