Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Northern Conquest War (7)
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The clattering of hooves echoed relentlessly, the powerful surge of the horse transmitted through my buttocks against the dirt ground, and the sensation of the distance to the enemy gradually closing in.
Ever since I started riding after my promotion to major, this situation had repeated itself hundreds of times.
But perhaps because I'd never once, in actual combat, led hundreds of knights charging at the forefront with a lance in hand?
It felt just like becoming the protagonist from a movie.
The heart-pounding tension threatening to burst my chest right before the impending battle, the unshakable confidence that no one could stop me, the liberating rush of the wind battering against me, and on the flip side, the anxiety that I might die in this state, the weight of countless knights' lives hanging on my single command—all these emotions began to churn wildly within me.
"If we hesitate here now, everything goes up in smoke! Knights, follow me!"
Rather than getting lost in useless thoughts, what I needed to do right now was keep the momentum and punch a hole through the waist of the barbarian scum in front of me with my lance.
After skewering the barbarians' flanks with my lance, as commander, I had the duty to direct the path for the knight unit to advance next.
"Let's punch a nice air hole through the sides of these dog-worse-than barbarians!"
"Deus, grant me the chance to carry out righteous slaughter once more today."
"We have to kill them all! They're the bastards who took vengeance on the battalion commander!"
Hearing those shouts, at about a minute from colliding with the enemy, I dug my spurs hard into the horse's sides to accelerate.
I aimed my lance at the enemy's torso, then pulled down the visor of my helmet with the hand gripping the reins.
"Brace for impact! Clench your thighs tight and hold on!"
Only then did the barbarian bastards finally notice our approach and start screaming at the top of their lungs.
"Khan, Khan! Help us, O Khan!"
"Idiot! You think the Khan has the spare capacity to help the likes of us right now?"
"If we turn direction here, we're all dead! Just hold out and hope for a lucky survival!"
In the meantime, the lance in my hand pierced smoothly into the torso of the enemy ahead, like skewering chicken on a spit.
A heavy, weighty sensation transmitted directly to my hand, as if thrusting a stick into mud... Was it because of the horse's acceleration?
The burden was incomparable to killing enemies with a sword or lance on foot.
It felt like if I loosened even a bit of tension anywhere in my body, I wouldn't withstand the weight transmitted through the lance and would be flung off.
And as the horse I rode slammed into the barbarian's horse ahead...
The nomad's horse was less than half the size of mine, and with my full plate armor to boot, so when it collided, the bastard's horse went flying off with a whoosh~.
In that jaw-dropping spectacle, I momentarily stared blankly at the hell unfolding before my eyes.
"What the hell is that horse? Why's it so goddamn huge! It's a monster!"
"Fuck, save me! You sons of bitches!!"
"Get off your horses! Get off the horses, I said!"
Due to the massive impact, they completely lost their minds, some even going berserk.
"Everyone, dismount! Fight on foot! Pick up any lances nearby, or grab swords or whatever weapons and fight! Kill one more while the enemy's in chaos!"
At my command, the knights who'd followed me dismounted one after another, weapons in hand, and began slaughtering the surrounding barbarians indiscriminately.
Slicing with swords, stabbing, smashing skulls with maces, or exploiting their armor by crushing faces with fists and feet.
"Deus forever! Reich Empire forever!!"
"Feed the barbarians to the flies and crows!"
"Don't leave a single one alive!"
They rampaged like kids who'd just gotten new toys.
The barbarian horse archers, already thrown into chaos by the assault of some 300 knights,
collapsed like raw recruits in basic training.
No matter how elite the soldiers, it takes time to adapt to an unexpected ambush, the enemy's heavy blows, and the breakdown of their formation meant for group combat.
Seizing this gap to kill even one more would make it easier for the crumbling Imperial infantry nearby to reorganize temporarily and join the attack.
"Kill first! Don't hesitate! These are heretics, rapists, scum who sold our people into slavery abroad!"
I issued the order to unleash them to slaughter as many enemies as possible, then fell back a bit to think.
Now, where exactly was that Ludvik bastard I absolutely had to eliminate in this battle?
A coward like Nikolai of the Chekovia Grand Duchy wouldn't have charged into the enemy lines, so no need to base it on him.
Assuming the bastard was a general worthy of history's pages, analyzing his political situation would be best.
To unite nomad tribes into a nation and hold it together required immense charisma and reign of terror.
Thus, he'd always show himself as proud, dignified, fearless of death—and unlike the Empire, a single defeat in battle would mean
his subordinates, doubting him, would cut off his head for survival, install another leader, or even surrender to the Empire...
"For barbarian scum to mimic Admiral Yi Sun-sin's moves. Filthy rapist murderer bastard."
Rather than face a gruesome death by his own men's blades, if the bastard had any brains, he'd seize this last chance, risking it all to charge at the front with his cavalry.
With the resolve that those who fight desperately to live shall live, and those who flee to survive shall die—as the saying goes, desperate survival breeds life, desperate flight breeds death.
If a general from a proper nation acted this way, I'd personally show respect and admiration.
But a savage doing it felt like an insult to all the great commanders etched in history, souring my mood.
"Knights, attention! Enemy commander Ludvik is at the vanguard of their cavalry! Leave the rest to our infantry around us. Don't bother with the riffraff! Our target is Ludvik's head—nothing else!"
At my words, the knights following me halted the one-sided slaughter and gathered around me.
I positioned myself slightly inside their front line and commanded.
"Everyone, punch through to the interior of their cavalry formation!"
The knights raised their right hands gripping swords, maces, axes, and such in response.
"Kill Ludvik!"
"Onward to glory and rewards!"
And we charged toward the enemy cavalry, just starting to regain composure, like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Some were struck by the barbarians' swords in the process, but thanks to our armor, serious wounds were rare.
The barbarians, clad only in one or two layers of chainmail, were easily wounded by our swords and lances.
Was it because the knights I led severed the enemy cavalry's waist and bought time for the Imperial forces to regroup?
"Butcher the barbarian scum! Kill every last one!"
"1st Battalion! Thrust with lances! Stab them dead!"
"Avenge the regimental commander's death!"
Even the surrounding infantry joined in, killing the barbarian horse archers one by one.
As they began to falter, the vile Ludvik bastards desperately held out, even using their precious horses as meat shields to survive.
But the bastard was already trapped by cavalry's iron rule: fail to charge and disengage before the enemy recovers, and you're 100% dead.
No matter how they thrashed in resistance, it only delayed their deaths; the fact they'd die here remained unchanged.
Because of that, my surroundings filled with knights, soldiers, and officers desperate to find and kill Ludvik to change their fates, making it hard even to step.
Thanks to relentlessly pushing through while killing barbarians in search of the vanguard, there before my eyes was the Ludvik bastard I'd been hunting.
The damned fool seemed to think that dying at our hands from exposure was less dire than his cavalry annihilated and the war ending in his defeat.
"Do you think the great Basilrov Ludvik Khan will die so pathetically here! Come at me, all of you! Pigs from the evil citadel!"
Shouting thus, Ludvik stood at the forefront of his guards, grinding down Imperial soldiers with his sword.
True to the man who'd risen to nomad khan by brute force alone, he cut an imposing figure of a general—muscular and agile, endlessly honed for battle.
His entire body was soaked in Imperial blood, eyes blazing like lasers as he swung his sword without restraint...
It was intimidating even to behold, but since I'd prepared thoroughly for such a case, I resolved that I had to take down Ludvik myself and end this war.
Academy days had polished the basics of all martial arts.
Combat experience accumulated at the forefront of countless fronts skyrocketed my prowess, and through spars with lance and sword alongside my knight subordinates whenever possible, I'd identified and fixed my deficiencies with their help.
During my Staff College professorship, I'd even earned semi-master status from the Sword Brotherhood.
Thus, my lance and sword skills were now beyond anyone at the Academy; no defeats there anymore...
"That damned Ludvik bastard is mine—Peter Jaeger, 24th Regiment commander!"
Declaring so, I charged as if challenging to a duel, sword aimed at him, swinging from overhead straight down.
Ludvik smirked at me and swung his sword in the exact same arc; the clash of blades rang out across the battlefield.