Chapter 12
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Kiyosu Castle (2)
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Neighhh!
"Wh-what?!"
As if ripping away the curtain of night, the line of muzzle flashes startled the horses all at once. They reared up with rough snorts and bolted in panic.
Because of that, the dozens of samurai leading the charge either tumbled from their saddles or had to halt to calm their spooked mounts. In the chaos, some of the fallen samurai were trampled by other horses, adding to the casualties.
"Tch—!"
Fortunately, Oda Nobutomo's horse was a battle-hardened war steed, so he avoided falling. But he could only stare blankly at the battlefield with trembling eyes. And soon, Nobutomo realized that this hellish scene had been created by none other than matchlock rifles. His body shuddered as he muttered.
"...A trap!"
It couldn't be. There was no way that Mori Yoshinari could have come up with such a trap—.
Wait a minute.
At that moment, a sudden hypothesis flashed through his mind.
What if someone else devised the strategy...!
How had he failed to reach such an obvious conclusion earlier? The reason was simple: a mix of real fear of losing his life and narrow-minded thinking.
Wait...!
But that realization lasted only a moment.
Oda Nobutomo stopped blaming himself and shouted at the top of his lungs, veins bulging in his wrinkled old neck as another thought struck him.
"Don't stop! Keep advancing! Matchlocks take too long to reload—if we close the distance, victory is ours!"
Nothing had changed.
Matchlocks might threaten common infantry, but they were useless against armored samurai.
"Follow the lord!"
"Waaaaah!"
The samurai, belatedly realizing this, dismounted one after another, drew their swords, and charged across the plain on foot. Leading them was none other than Oda Nobutomo.
The enemy position, which had seemed endlessly distant, rapidly closed in. Nobutomo gazed beyond the barricade, certain of victory.
That was when.
His eyes caught sight of a stranger in black armor—a samurai whose face he didn't recognize. Nobutomo found himself muttering under his breath without realizing it.
"...He's smiling?"
And at that instant.
Bangbangbang—!
Over a hundred matchlocks braced between the barricades spat fire all at once again.
**
"Just as expected."
Il-yeong dismounted and gazed at the enemy forces rapidly closing the distance across the plain as he quietly issued a command.
"First rank. Reload."
At his order, the hundred or so men in the first rank immediately fell back, and an equal number of matchlock gunners moved up to take their places.
Of course, without proper training, there was some fumbling, but it was still far faster than reloading individually.
"Second rank. Fire."
Bangbang!
Bang—!
"Gaaah!"
"My eyes! My eeeeyes!"
The bullets from the sudden second volley hammered the approaching samurai's armor. Those lucky shots that struck unprotected faces or legs were enough to instantly disable over thirty samurai.
"Good. At this rate..."
If things went well, they could end it with almost no losses. But as someone once said, life never goes exactly as planned.
"Raaah!"
"You bastards!"
As the second rank finished firing and withdrew, some of the faster-footed samurai and ashigaru began closing in rapidly.
The distance was still great enough that the third rank could step forward, fire, and repel them—but here, the lack of training became glaringly apparent.
"D-damn it!"
"Raaah!"
Shing—!
The third rank's matchlock men, seeing the enemy nearly upon them, tossed their weapons aside, drew their swords, and charged to meet them head-on.
Il-yeong's face showed a moment of bewilderment at the sight. Then, from behind, Mori Yoshinari's voice rang out, tense with excitement.
"Looks like it's my turn."
He turned to see her gripping her spear tightly, a faint flush on her cheeks as if her blood was boiling, ready to leap into the fray at any moment.
"...Tch. Seems like it."
He hadn't expected a mere three hundred matchlock troops to end the entire battle anyway. He'd simply tested the three-rank volley fire that Oda Nobunaga had originally devised.
Now it was time for the samurai.
"That's right!"
Whoosh—.
Mori Yoshinari swung her massive blue spear in a wide arc from atop her warhorse. It was her habit before entering battle—a truly overwhelming declaration of war.
"Sweep them all away!"
"Waaaaah!"
With Mori Yoshinari at the lead, two hundred samurai mounted up in unison and charged toward the milling enemy ranks.
To Oda Nobutomo's despair, all two hundred samurai sent by Nobunaga to support Il-yeong were cavalrymen skilled in riding.
"Hoo."
Il-yeong spurred his horse forward, silently watching Yoshinari's back as she indiscriminately slashed through rabble and samurai alike in a frenzy of beheadings. He glanced down at his faintly trembling hands and muttered.
"...Get it together, Baek Il-yeong. Survival comes first."
Who could have known?
That he, who had simply enjoyed history, novels, and games in an ordinary life, would suddenly be sucked into this bizarre world.
Kill people.
From a modern perspective, the very words were hard to accept. But—
Kill to survive.
That made perfect sense. Humans were like that. The self had to survive for the world to exist.
So, Il-yeong hesitated no longer. He donned the goblin mask hanging around his neck, covering everything but his eyes, and slowly advanced.
His initially slow steps.
Soon matched the fierce pounding of his heart.
He charged forward.
The stench of death grew thicker, assaulting his nose. Soon, Il-yeong drew Onimaru Kunitsuna from the red scabbard bestowed by Oda Nobunaga.
Shing!
"Haaah!"
Unlike its eerie legend, Onimaru slid out smoothly. It gently grazed the neck of a samurai charging at Il-yeong with a savage shout, intent on beheading him.
Slice—thud.
The samurai collapsed into a headless lump of meat, sprawling on the ground.
Blood sprayed into the air, splattering Il-yeong's black mask. He stared at the corpse he'd felled for a moment, then walked forward.
"Aaaah!"
An unnamed ashigaru thrust his spear. Il-yeong narrowly dodged the trajectory, grabbed the shaft, yanked it toward him, and plunged his sword precisely into the ashigaru's throat.
"Gurgh..."
Blood filled his esophagus, perhaps. The ashigaru spewed dark gore and breathed his last.
Another one felled.
A young man's arm was severed by Il-yeong's thrust. The sword he barely dodged carved a deep gash into Il-yeong's mask.
By the time the trembling in his hands stopped and the acrid blood-scent stung his nose.
Il-yeong faced the old man before him and spoke.
"Oda Nobutomo."
"Hahk... hahk... Who the hell are you...?"
He had dragged his frail body through desperate resistance alongside a few retainers; his entire form was drenched in blood.
But Il-yeong ignored it and stared silently. One of the retainers spotted him and bellowed, thrusting a massive spear.
"Raaah!"
But in that instant.
"Hup!"
The thunder of hooves shook the earth as a blue flash arced in a crescent, and the retainer’s head tumbled free.
"Wh-what!"
Too late, they turned toward where Mori Yoshinari had charged through between them with her blue spear. Il-yeong seized the opening.
"Raaah!"
In battle, hesitation meant death.
He slashed the chest of the samurai blocking Nobutomo's path, ducked a sword aimed at his neck, and plunged inside.
"Y-you worm!"
Only then did Nobutomo realize he was the target. He desperately thrust at Il-yeong's heart, but it was too late.
Slice—thud.
A familiar sound on the battlefield rang in his ears—one paradoxically alien to Nobutomo.
"No... not like this..."
"The lord...?"
Leaving the stunned samurai staring at him in horror, Il-yeong picked up Nobutomo's rolling head and a spear, impaling the head on the blade.
Thud.
The spear with Nobutomo's head on display stood tall at the center of the battlefield. To hide his pounding heart and fear, Il-yeong bellowed.
"Oda Nobutomo is dead!"
And at that very moment.
Mori Yoshinari, watching Il-yeong shout defiantly from the battlefield's heart, flashed a faint blush and a satisfied smile. She raised her blue spear high and roared.
"The enemy commander is dead! Victory is ours—!"
At last, the Oda main branch was annihilated.