Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Thunern Tribe Extermination Battle (8)
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In typical battle situations, the real fight kicks off after both sides hurl insults and trash talk at each other to tear down the enemy.
Since this wasn't a surprise attack and we were facing them head-on, there was no issue with shouting loudly to let the enemy know, "I'm right here."
It gave the soldiers—who felt uneasy about killing fellow believers of the Deus faith—the justification that those bastards deserved to die, easing their consciences.
More precisely, it planted the idea that pointing my spear at them and killing them was for the Empire and Deus, securing a sense of righteousness in the hearts of the soldiers about to commit murder in the upcoming battle.
But any citizen of the Empire wouldn't see these northern barbarian heretics as fellow humans anyway— they viewed them as less than the cockroaches that occasionally scurried into their homes.
From what I'd heard, no soldier ever regretted killing a barbarian.
Those barbarian scum were heretics, murderers, rapists, and kidnappers.
Reiterating just how dangerous they were would provide ample mental preparation for the fight ahead.
So, in a calm yet solemn voice, I spoke.
"24th Regiment, attention. From this moment, we will carry out Deus's will in his stead, slaying those murderous, vile heretics."
Having lived in Korea, I barely believed in Deus myself, so speaking like some priest felt a bit off.
But if a few words could boost morale, then as a commander, it was my duty to invoke his name a thousand times over if needed.
"Hesitate not in killing them. They've already kidnapped, murdered, and used thousands of our citizens as playthings—worse than trash. Uglier than cockroaches, more wicked than carrion crows that feast on corpses, and more despicable than hyenas."
According to the prisoners' testimonies, during village raids, they'd torture and kill children in front of their parents out of sheer boredom.
Among the Empire women captured in the Chuik tribe village, several had lost their minds completely from the trauma of rape.
Even worse, the barbarians—men, women, elderly, and even their own children—had watched these atrocities with enjoyment.
"These barbarians are a blight. They have no place in this world. Here, we will eradicate them and bring justice. That is all."
With that, the entire unit roared in response, and I double-checked our forces' armament.
To maximize survival against their arrow barrages, even the lowliest soldiers had been issued chainmail stripped from the regiment's stores.
The frontline troops in each unit got extra scavenged plate breastplates, helmets, and thick iron-reinforced shields to block arrows.
At this level of armor, we'd honestly abandoned any hope of speed—we were decked out heavy and thick.
A farming nation's army trying to match the speed of semi-nomadic barbarian horse archers by going light was pure folly.
Why? Because no matter how fast you were, you couldn't catch them.
So, armoring up heavy enough to shatter their bones in one hit was the best approach.
"Entire regiment, advance. Slaughter the barbarians."
At my order, the regiment's buglers and standard-bearers signaled, and we began our slow advance.
The barbarian army came into view near the frontlines, entering my sight.
As expected, their central infantry—even from hundreds of meters away—glinted only with spear tips, suggesting they wore little more than crudely fashioned leather armor at best.
These infantry seemed dragged along just to pad numbers— they couldn't even form proper ranks, shambling forward unevenly.
Seeing this, murmurs rose among our soldiers. Maybe because the horse archers hadn't appeared yet?
"Look at those pathetic clowns. Even when we were green recruits, we were better than that."
"Whoa~ Even from here, you can tell their aim sucks. Total amateurs."
"They call that infantry? Holding spears and clustering up, but staggering around all crooked. Pathetic. We'd need ten thousand of 'em to even match us."
I recalled learning that early medieval infantry—conscripted serfs from villages with zero value—looked just like that.
Knights were what mattered in war, so the thinking was: why train ten infantry when that money could maintain one knight?
No proper weapons or armor for the rabble—they went into battle with pitchforks, hoes, or wooden clubs as "weapons," layered in three sets of everyday cloth clothes for "armor."
Their role was basically hauling supplies and filling out numbers; a few thousand dead meant nothing.
"All units, maintain vigilance! Frontline men, grip shields tight and keep eyes on your feet only!"
"Regiment commander's orders. Don't lift your head trying to block arrows."
"Infantry, protect the crossbowmen and mages as best you can!"
Now, dust clouds rose 300 to 400 meters ahead, with hundreds of bow-wielding cavalry charging in front.
The infantry we'd just seen couldn't even match steps, stumbling along crookedly.
But these horse archers charged in perfect single-file formation—like early medieval knights flaunting their elite status—without a single ripple.
As if they were one body, swift and unshaken.
"Regiment, attention!"
My words prompted officers at every level to relay the command swiftly.
"The enemy horse archers look sharp and fierce. But as you just saw, they're few in number—the rest are less than idiots sucking on their mother's teat straight out of boot camp."
The problem was those few grinding their teeth and loosing arrows, picking off our advancing soldiers one by one, could make our men lose their heads.
Then, if even one unit broke and charged wildly or acted out of line,
as more joined the chaos, the enemy horse archers would switch to swords and butcher our crumbling infantry lines at will.
"You've heard this a hundred times, but as long as no idiot loses his shit from an arrow and charges blindly, we win. Any officer, NCO, or soldier acting without battalion commander's permission will be summarily decapitated, no excuses."
But since their horse archers prioritized mobility, their armor had limits. If our infantry lowered spears and held phalanx formation, they'd never penetrate, let alone breach.
So, as long as we controlled rash protrusions like I just said, our optimally armored force wouldn't lose by sitting idle.
"Follow my orders, and like in Chekovia and Bisocia, I'll give every one of you a shot at a better life. Don't panic at their arrows—just endure. Then the crossbowmen and mages will wipe them out."
No matter how swift they were, this muddy terrain would cripple their horse archery tactics against infantry.
They formed thin, elongated lines from vanguard to rearguard, charging like they meant to overrun us,
then at arrow range, they'd shoot and wheel back like a cart, circling endlessly.
Even on flat ground, it drained horses badly—but in deep mud, speeds dropped, stamina burned out fast.
Their mounts would tire quicker than usual.
As the enemy's main force—the central army—drew close enough,
their horse archer leaders bellowed massively, veering to strike our regiment's flanks as predicted.
"Crossbowmen and mages, stand ready to counter! When they attack, loose arrows and spells, then duck behind the shields beside you! Slowpokes die! Shield bearers, keep shields up and advance. Never stop, even under fire—maintain speed!"
As my orders reached the whole regiment, the whistle of arrows slicing the sky reached my ears.
"Fucking dogs. Argh."
"Told you not to look up, you idiot Brooks! Everyone except crossbowmen and mages, heads down!"
"Trust the armor you're wearing! Fucking hell, those won't pierce unless you're cursed unlucky! Don't even think about watching and blocking!"
At the same time, shouts erupted from the battalions on both flanks.
"Loose arrows! Let's see who drops first—you or us!"