The Empty Fort Strategy (5)
The Empty Fort Strategy (5)
——Kwooogwaaaaang!
The ten-minute frenzy of gunfire finally came to an end.
The two Altar Cannons I’d been operating had long since run out of magic stones, and both Hans and Sir Levenstil had just fired their final shots.
Sir Grautal’s impressed voice crackled through the Communication Magic Tool.
It seemed the indiscriminate barrage had left quite an impression on the old knight.
Well, a Fire Ball bombardment that could blanket an entire plain in explosions would probably stun anyone who saw it.
While I was catching my breath and reflecting on that, another message came through.
Huh? They survived that many Fire Balls? At this point, the rumor that knights are half-monster might not be a rumor at all.
Yeah… this is where I really feel the Fire Ball’s lack of raw power. If we’d used fifth-circle attack magic, we could’ve wiped out that entire area without them being able to block a thing.
Even though the quantity was massive, each individual impact had its limits. That was the result.
No helping it. Just like I thought earlier, we’ll have to head out ourselves and start harvesting heads.
“Hans! Sir Levenstil! We’re joining the infantry! Bring the horses!”
“Yes, sir!”
Watching the two of them spring into action at my command, I thought to myself.
Thirty of them, huh. They probably aren’t in perfect condition either, but I wonder if the infantry can hold out until we get there?
Whoa, this is seriously insane.
That was Bruno’s first thought as he stared at the scene before him.
The area fifty paces in front of where the infantry line had formed was completely blackened. Every blade of grass, every horse, every knight—everything had been swallowed by the bombardment.
‘Hmm, at this rate, maybe it’ll just end cleanly?’
The moment that optimistic thought crossed his mind—
Thump!
Suspicious movement appeared at the edge of his vision.
Thump! Thump! Thud!
It was definitely where the enemy knights had been charging from. The blackened mound shifted several times before a horse’s corpse rolled out and collapsed onto the ground.
Then, from within that pitch-black darkness, the enemies finally began to reveal themselves.
Some had burns all over their bodies. Others wore armor that had melted and then hardened again, twisting into grotesque shapes.
They were far from unscathed, yet their eyes burned with fierce, unyielding fighting spirit.
Soon, just under thirty of them had climbed out. The one who looked like their leader shouted.
“Those damn magic-casting bastards! I’ll wipe every last one of you out! Everyone, prepare for battle!”
Upon hearing the order, the enemy knights each finished their preparations—some by drinking potions from their pouches, others by drawing their swords.
Gulp.
Was that the sound of the soldier next to Bruno swallowing? Or had it come from Bruno’s own throat?
The lump in his throat from sheer tension rang clearly in his ears.
The crushing pressure of being unable to do anything while the enemy prepared right in front of them. The overwhelming anxiety of knowing they would charge at any moment. Both gripped his entire body.
Bruno shouted at the top of his lungs, as if he could shake off that tension by yelling, and urged the soldiers forward.
“Everyone, reform the ranks! Stick tight to the man beside you! Do not break formation! The enemy is few and we are many!”
At his voice, the enemy knights turned to look. They were close enough that he could make out each of their expressions.
A few frowned. Most simply wore mocking sneers, as if they found the whole thing ridiculous.
Once the enemy knights had finished preparing, the collision began.
“Charge!”
Clank-clank-clank! Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The sound of clashing armor and the heavy footsteps shaking the earth filled the entire front line.
It was the sound of death. That was the only thought that came to mind.
The enemy’s charge, seen head-on, was that utterly devastating.
Knights covered in twisted armor and soot, charging at speeds that seemed inhuman, looked like hellish warriors risen from the earth itself.
Whether because of that sight or because they were facing the raw stench of death for the first time, deserters began appearing all across the infantry line.
“Damn it, don’t break the line! Hold your positions!”
No matter how loudly Bruno shouted alone, the situation refused to change.
This was the fundamental limit of a force hastily gathered from conscripted peasants.
There were no veteran soldiers to support the troops as the backbone of the army. And the knights who might have filled that role were absent, tied up in the previous operations.
In the end, the Weistenfel territorial troops—nothing but a ragtag bunch of farmers—fell into panic, and Bruno could do nothing to stop it.
And in war, morale sometimes outweighs numbers.
Crack!
The thin, sharp sound of a spear snapping split the air. But that was only the beginning of the collision.
Crunch! Shluk! Slice! Clang!
Multiple sounds overlapped. Yet they all meant the same thing.
“Gurgh!”
The voice of a soldier drowning in his own blood.
“Aaaargh! My—my arm!”
The scream of a soldier whose clumsy grip on his spear let a knight’s blade sever his arm.
“I don’t wanna die here! Uwaaaaaah!”
The shriek of a soldier who threw down his weapon and fled.
They were all the sounds of rout.
Of course, not every section was collapsing.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
There were places where soldiers stood firm against the overwhelming force, holding the line.
Sections where men pressed tightly together, raising spears and shields to create an impenetrable wall.
“Stick even closer! If you break formation, remember that you’re not only killing yourself but your comrades beside you! Hold those spears straight! Drop them and you die! Lift them up, now!!!”
The central unit under Bruno’s direct command was holding relatively well.
Whether thanks to Bruno’s desperate efforts or because the bravest soldiers had gathered there, he didn’t know.
In these spots, even if one spear broke, several more filled the gap. When one man fell, several others counterattacked and drove the knights back.
They refused to yield and fought the enemy head-on.
——The problem was that this was by no means the majority.
Most soldiers simply froze where they stood, unable to do anything.
They didn’t even have the courage to run. They could only tremble, viewing the knights as a calamity sweeping away lives, praying it wouldn’t come for them.
Since the majority were paralyzed with fear, Bruno fell into deep worry.
“Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to command this mess?”
But time was impartial. While he agonized, the enemy knights carved through his men at the same pace.
Then came the enemy commander’s shout.
“Rally on me! We will charge again, so rally!”
At that voice, knights scattered across the battlefield fighting Weistenfel troops began gathering.
These men who had been slaughtering infantry through sheer individual prowess now formed up in one place and quickly built a wedge-shaped formation.
Once the formation was complete, they aimed straight for the center—where Bruno stood.
The central unit had resisted the knights with unusual stubbornness. It seemed the enemy was confident that breaking this one point would let them easily hunt down the rest.
Though the knights charged on foot, they still came at a speed comparable to cavalry.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
They thrust their longswords forward with both hands like lances.
“Damn it! Lower your spears! Hold them lower than forty-five degrees! Low enough to aim at their throats!”
Bruno shouted desperately.
The spear tips needed to be lower than where they would have aimed at a horse’s neck. Only then could they slow the charge even a little.
Kwaaaaaaaa—dud!
His words were nothing but wind.
The center was completely breached.
“Aaaaaargh!”
New screams erupted everywhere.
Men struck head-on by the knights’ charge. Men skewered through the neck like meat on a spit. Men crushed beneath the knights’ iron armor.
Tragedies of every kind unfolded in an instant.
The line that had barely held together finally collapsed. The thought it’s over, I can’t stop this filled Bruno’s mind completely.
“So it’s you. The one commanding this sector.”
Schlick!
An enemy approached, flicking blood and flesh from his blade. He appeared to be the commander of the opposing knights.
“Hmm. Judging by your mana, you’re a mage too? The mastermind behind this disgusting mess. I won’t give you an easy death.”
Stab!
Wearing an expression like a vengeful demon, he drove his sword into Bruno’s left shoulder.
“Aaaaaaaaagh!”
“Noisy little bug.”
Graaaaash!
Instead of pulling the blade out, he slowly twisted it with brute force.
The pain of muscles tearing and bones shattering sent lightning bolts exploding through Bruno’s mind.
Overwhelmed by agony, he lost and regained consciousness countless times until he could no longer even scream.
The knight quickly grew bored of Bruno’s state, yanked the sword free, and said,
“Pathetic. Can’t even endure this much?”
Swoosh!
He began swinging his blade diagonally toward Bruno’s neck.
However—
Whoosh! Boom!
A spell shot from the knight’s blind spot, aimed directly at his temple.
The magic, shaped like a flaming spear, struck the knight. When the thick smoke cleared, he was still standing.
Wrapped in greenish sword aura.
“Hah, you blocked that? I fired it from where you couldn’t see.”
A voice that could have been admiration or mockery rang out, followed by the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
Clip-clop, clip-clop!
The hoofbeats stopped not far from the knight, and the same voice continued.
“You really did a number on them. Both my territorial troops and my subordinates.”
“Who the hell are you!”
“Me? Their boss—and the guy who’s going to kill you all.”
It was Alvaro, declaring it in a cocky yet utterly confident tone.