Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Opportunity for Promotion (4)
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As I let out a thunderous battle cry, all seventy soldiers following behind me roared after me at the top of their lungs.
"Kill them all!"
"The company commander promised to cut our service short! Every one of those bastards' necks we take shaves off a week of service—jackpot!"
"Ura! Ura!!!!"
With our soldiers howling like madmen as they charged straight into the enemy camp, a barrage of fire arrows and spells rained down from the rear.
In the midst of it all, the watchtower facing us went up completely in flames, incinerating the sentries inside.
The barracks beyond it burst into a roaring blaze as well, and terrified screams and shrieks began echoing from deep within the enemy lines.
"Fuck!! It's fucking hot—who the hell are these guys?"
"What kind of bullshit is this, sneaking in at night after we've already won, you vicious bastards!!"
"Run, you lunatics! We're fucked!! Aaaagh!"
We hadn't even reached the enemy camp yet, but their panicked screams alone told us it had turned into utter chaos.
With the watchtower burning, they wouldn't be able to gauge the size of our force in the darkness until they got their confusion under control—and panicking as they were, we'd look at least five to ten times bigger than we actually were.
Even the Franco Republic's division commander, upon hearing we'd launched a raid instead of retreating, would reason it out like this based on common sense:
'The Reich Empire bastards, on the verge of surrender, pulled off a raid—so they must've committed a hefty force to it.'
Which meant they'd concentrate their troops in one spot to intercept us.
According to the spy, they'd heard we were preparing to retreat and had been celebrating their imminent victory on the division commander's orders, letting discipline slack off completely.
Caught off guard in a state of lax discipline, it would take them considerable time to assemble an interception force and get it functioning properly.
And an army that couldn't properly assemble might as well be scarecrows...
"They're our prey until they snap out of it! And from now until the operation ends, you're to address me as Battalion Commander! The Battalion Commander leads from the front! Charge!!"
The soldiers, even in their frenzied charge, couldn't help chuckling as they replied.
"Long live the Battalion Commander!"
"Battalion Commander, if we take ten enemy necks in this raid, you discharge us, right?!"
After sprinting our asses off for about thirty seconds to breach the enemy camp, the chaotic scene inside unfolded before our eyes.
The company commander lookalike had barely managed to throw on his uniform but was fumbling around without even a sword in hand. Green platoon leaders, facing this for the first time, cowered with their heads down, eyes darting like frightened chicks, waiting desperately for orders.
The rank-and-file were in even worse shape—some rushing to put out fires, others scrambling for weapons, some hastily donning armor, and a few staggering around drunk.
It was a bigger mess than a Tang Dynasty army.
And yet, perhaps because they were in the heat of a raid where comrades were dying left and right, everyone was screaming desperately at the top of their lungs.
"Company commander's orders! Everyone calm down! The enemy is regiment-sized!"
"We need to move toward the regimental commander's tent!"
"Put out the fire first! The fire! We'll all burn to death in here!!"
"Fuck! This isn't the war I imagined—not getting caught flat-footed by some raid!!"
Some protagonists in stories like this might wax poetic about the misery of war at a sight like that.
But my job here was to put down as many of these guys in front of me as quickly as possible—to grant them a swift mercy from their terror.
Not that I wasn't shaking in my boots myself, charging into a camp with over nine thousand troops with just seventy men.
If I showed even a hint of fear here, the op would be over, my career done, and my life gone—so I was just gritting my teeth and powering through on sheer spite.
"Battalion, eyes front! The regimental commander is bringing up the follow-on forces behind us! Until then, grab any weapon you can and kill the enemy—find oil drums, smash 'em open, and set 'em alight! Today, we're going for the division commander's head! Ignore officers below major! Charge!!"
As soon as I finished, I hurled the short spear in my hand, nailing the company commander lookalike right in front of me. My soldiers followed suit, lobbing their spears to drop enemy troops.
I bellowed "Ura!" and tore into the Franco Republic soldiers like a berserker with no regard for my own life.
The men obeyed, snatching up whatever came to hand—swords, spears, crossbows, maces—and butchering the flailing enemy soldiers.
You'd think the Franco Republic troops would fight back in a situation like this, but instead...
"Fighting a battalion without armor is suicide! Retreat! Retreat, you fuckers!!"
"Run to the regimental tent! Hurry!"
"The path there is on fire, you dumbass platoon leader! What the hell did they teach you at the Republic Academy?"
The Republic soldiers, hammered by our brainless charge, weren't quite turning their weapons on their own officers—but they were damn close to outright mutiny.
Part of me wanted to kill those idiots too.
But the moment we slowed down, my company would be surrounded and slaughtered.
To survive, we had to cut straight through the Franco Republic division's camp to the other side.
"Ignore the trash and keep pushing forward! Once I take that division commander's head, I'll be a lieutenant colonel or colonel myself! Charge—Ura!!!"
The company and other unit commanders leading the routed troops stared at us in disbelief.
But with fires raging, men dying everywhere, and no telling when the flames might spread to critical spots like the grain stores or armory...
They focused on firefighting instead of engaging my company.
And right on cue, the 1st Platoon Leader arrived with his full force, including the mages from 2nd Squad, and reported in.
"Com—"
"Battalion Commander here."
"Per Battalion Commander's orders, we focused fireballs and fire arrows on the division camp. The Franco Republic division's garrison is now an inferno."
Perfect timing to link up, and with good news to boot.
I'd been shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion amid nine thousand-plus enemies.
All that stress melted away in an instant.
"An inferno—music to my ears. 1st Platoon Leader—no, 1st Company Commander from here on—relay this to the mages in the rear as you fall back: blast fireballs everywhere except friendly positions until your mana runs dry. Soldiers, grab any weapons you find and stab or throw at will—but stay tight, no stragglers. Fall behind and you're dead."
"Understood."
Soon after, we carved through enemy soldiers with the same manic energy as the lunatics in the rear spraying fireballs everywhere and torching the place.
Whenever a mage's fireball hit an oil drum, it exploded with a boom, splattering burning oil everywhere and fueling even bigger blazes.
Any enemy near our path who hadn't burned to death got stabbed, slashed, or pelted to oblivion.
The enemy soldiers didn't even dream of resisting our amped-up assault.
"Spare me! Fuck!!"
"Hey, assembly call from over there! Shouldn't we go?"
"You filthy dogs worse than curs! Did your parents teach you to fight wars like this!!"
Games have rules, but war is won by whoever kills one more bastard using any dirty, cowardly trick in the book.
Whining like that meant they couldn't even cope with mental defeat.
My soldiers got it too—panting hard but jeering at the helpless foes we outnumbered a hundred to one.
"If you're pissed, stand your watches properly so raids don't happen, idiots. Kill 'em all!"
"Blame your shithead division commander. We're sorry on his behalf. Sorry—now die."
And just like that, over the next thirty minutes, we massacred them one-sidedly.
These were the same guys who felt like a real handful on a normal battlefield, but one raid had turned them into sitting ducks—and we weren't about to miss the chance to slaughter them at will.
Thinking of the massive rewards awaiting us for seizing the moment, we steamrolled forward until we finally reached the heart of the enemy camp.
After nearly thirty minutes of relentless assault since the raid began, the Franco Republic division commander had panicked and ordered a withdrawal—so the division HQ was deserted.
But we did secure the division colors, proof of the massive damage we'd inflicted on their army.
At the same moment, from the right side of where I stood at division HQ, the blare of friendly trumpets and drums signaled the arrival of our reinforcements—and we all erupted in cheers.
"Reinforcements are here!"
"Damn it, we made it to the end!"
Thankful that my unit had survived this far, I waved the Franco Republic division colors and shouted.
"Mission accomplished! Take fifteen minutes here to rest, then return to our lines!"