Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Hammer and Anvil (4)
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"What the hell are those bastards? Hiding somewhere and then popping up out of nowhere to hit us from the side? Fuck!"
"We thought we just had to hold out here until that damned Crown Prince bastard's head rolled, and we were feeling good about it."
"Goddamn Reich rats."
400 meters. As we closed to a distance where magic and arrows could be exchanged, the enemy soldiers' curses and insults started coming through loud and clear.
As the commander who proposed this operation, hearing the enemy's insults firsthand like this—even though victory wasn't sealed yet—already put me in a good mood.
And why not? The genuine venom in those soldiers' voices was like a measuring stick, showing just how devastating my plan had been to them.
"If we just hold out a little longer here, Commander-in-Chief Andrei will send reinforcements! Hang in there just a bit more!"
"Long live the Duchy of Chekovia! Long live the great Grand Duke of Chekovia! Those sneaky, evil Reich scum hiding like rats and striking suddenly—kill them!"
"Don't be afraid! Their leader, the Crown Prince, is already helpless against us!"
The Chekovian commanders tried to calm their rattled troops, but it was just a temporary fix.
Once we gained the upper hand, their soldiers' morale would plummet straight through the floor into the basement.
And right on cue, our side's magic and arrows began flying toward the enemy, and vice versa.
"Jaeger Battalion, ranged attacks incoming! Advance silently like rocks, just as we've been doing!"
All I could do now was pray to a Deus I didn't fully trust and march toward the enemy lines.
"Great Deus, if I die here, I won't even get to marry Camella. Please save me."
"You told me to stay pure, so I never once went to the camp followers. Save your chaste lamb."
"Fuck, after all the offerings I've made. I believe you won't abandon me here."
The soldiers must have been feeling the same as me in this situation.
They were calling out to their gods too, one step at a time toward the enemy.
If we could endure this eternal six minutes or so of agony, we'd escape the one-sided ranged pounding where we couldn't fight back.
I desperately hoped that time would pass quickly, waiting for the honest close-quarters melee where we'd fight with spears and swords.
"This is insane! I want to live. I'm running away!"
"Mom! Dad! Aaaah, Emily!"
"Chase, Watson! Uwaaaak!"
I couldn't look around—turning my head would likely mean instant death like a dog.
But from the sounds alone, I could tell a few unlucky bastards had been killed by magic or arrows, and some idiot trying to desert amid the terror of ranged fire had been executed.
Those hit by mages or archers were truly unfortunate, but the deserter? What an idiot.
In infantry combat, where one soldier fleeing could doom dozens or hundreds of comrades, who would spare a deserter?
No choice but to kill them fast to prevent panic and flight from spreading.
"Stupid fuck. If he wanted to desert, he should've done it during camp or a forced march—at least then he'd have lived."
Lost in such random thoughts, I kept marching steadily, and soon the enemies' spear tips glinted silver in my eyes.
The ranged attacks flying at Jaeger Battalion had completely stopped.
"Reform the lines! Tighten formation and stare down those filthy Chekovians in front of you. It's time to avenge our precious comrades they killed!"
With my rallying cry, my soldiers reformed ranks and roared back.
"Kill 'em all! Drown this land in their blood!"
"You're all dead. This is your graveyard. Die knowing it."
"Long live the Battalion Commander! Long live His Highness the Crown Prince! Long live the Reich Empire!"
The enemy soldiers didn't hold back on curses either, yelling back as they kept advancing without stopping, and I scanned them for weaknesses.
Their commander wasn't a complete moron—the unit guarding him looked like elites.
Their troops were mostly serf conscripts, but they had decent builds and high morale.
Of course, a good clubbing with infantry maces would fix that quick.
"Mages, crossbowmen—fire on the enemy! Kill them all!"
The mages and crossbowmen, waiting for this moment, unleashed a massive volley at once.
Normally, at close range, two shots per crossbowman was good.
Today, despite exhaustion from the forced march, they managed nearly three volleys.
Real combat was the best teacher—war's extreme tension honed their skills automatically.
"Cowardly bastards, shooting magic and arrows right in our faces..."
"Do your parents know you're living like this? These fuckers give no warning."
"Urk, fuck..."
Enemy soldiers dropped like autumn leaves in the wind.
Our troops' morale soared in proportion, piercing the heavens.
"Filthy scum, good riddance!"
"Noisy and ugly when alive—now dead, they're quiet and pretty!"
"Big brother'll make you pretty! Kyahahaha!"
I'd worried our stamina would drop after hours of forced march, hurting combat performance.
But constant endurance training like route marches had built us up, and rage from the hellish approach fueled morale sky-high.
Their will to win and survive burned brighter than ever, boosting combat ability beyond normal.
No way we'd screw up in melee.
"Knights, conserve stamina! Lieutenant Laura, take direct command platoon in my stead and fetch about 30 horses from the Division Commander!"
Standard assault on enemy HQ: commit everything for a central breakthrough.
That kills more foes and ups chances on the protected commander.
My orders went against that common sense, but...
Maybe because Major Jaeger had shattered norms with bizarre tactics and huge victories?
"Understood, Major! Direct 1st Platoon, with me—departing for the Division Commander's position."
"Knight Company, hold at battalion rear! Everyone dismount. Preserve the horses' stamina."
Both officers followed without question.
I dismounted too, switching to infantry mace from my pre-tethered horse to join as a foot soldier.
"Time to grind those enemy bastards into minced meat! Everyone—charge on my mark!"
At my command, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd lines stepped off in unison toward the enemy, moving as one.
Their rattled commanders floundered at our momentum.
"If you don't wanna die, raise spears! Form up! Do what you trained for if you want to live!"
"You lowly peasants, don't panic! Panic first, die first!"
I sighed at the sight.
Soldier panic can infect officers, but a sane company officer calms troops and restores fight.
But panicked brass? Soldiers see crisis amplified.
Morale crashes, combat power tanks.
Our NCOs and platoon leaders spotted the weakness... and grinned.
"On one-two-three! Walk on one, thrust on two, withdraw on three!"
"You are one mass!"
"Move as one body! That's how you survive!"
Soldiers, hearing familiar drill-sergeant commands on the field, felt some relief.
Business as usual—just do the usual.
Soon, Jaeger Battalion infantry clashed with the enemy foot.
We stabbed, bashed hafts, traded curses.
A slow grinding down.
Spearmen locked in deadly frenzy, blind to all but the foe ahead.
"Die, die!"
"Back to your dead mom's side!"
"Look at that shaky spear! Mercy kill—off you go!"
As soldiers went blind to all but enemies and officers' vision narrowed...
"Mace unit, forward! Battalion commander takes point!"
This was our prime moment to win.