The Magical Defense Bureau Rises (1)
The winter wind howled across the frozen plains.
“Ehehe, are those fine lords really planning to move out in the dead of winter like this?”
“Oi, keep your voice down, you fool. Can’t you see the knightly sirs wandering right over there?”
Whiiiirrrr—!
A gust of wind swept through, and the soldiers shivered as the biting cold slipped through their threadbare clothes.
Clop-clop-clop-clop!
Then came the sound of hooves from the front. It was the overlapping rhythm of many horses, but not the thunderous roar one might expect from a grand charge.
When the soldiers turned their heads toward the noise, they saw roughly ten riders approaching.
“What the hell is that? They don’t even look like proper knights. No shiny armor, just dull and gloomy-looking gear.”
The knights were thinking much the same thing.
“Only about ten men. They look more like scouts than knights.”
“Weren’t we told there was no information about any large enemy force in this area?”
“We’ve sent out our own scouts, sir. No large encampments were found anywhere in this region. There’s no need to worry. We can continue the advance without concern.”
Despite the blatant appearance of enemy scouts, the atmosphere remained relaxed. There was no real tension at all.
And why would there be? The intelligence they had received before launching this operation was rock solid. There was simply nothing to fear.
The 2nd Prince’s own forces were in the same situation. Due to the massive reorganization into a large-scale army, the majority of the infantry couldn’t even gather in one place to move together. Or so they had heard.
That wasn’t limited to the infantry. The knight orders from various families, which had originally operated in a chaotic, disorganized command structure, were also struggling to establish proper chains of command.
In this messy transitional period, the chance of running into a large enemy force was practically zero.
“Anyway, as long as it’s not a proper knight order, what does it matter who shows up?”
“We just scout a bit, grab as much loot as we can carry, and pull back. When I think about it again, this is a pretty sweet deal.”
The command tent was already steeped in happiness, as if they had already secured their plunder. The officers weren’t even looking properly at what lay ahead.
It made sense. Most of the knights who had set out this time were free knights.
They called themselves free knights, but they were little more than mounted mercenaries. The only reason they had joined this civil war was money. To them, this expedition—with low risk and massive potential rewards—felt like a jar of honey placed right in front of their eyes.
The ten or so ragged beggars who had appeared before them were barely worth noticing.
‘These guys aren’t even from a proper knight order. They won’t cause any trouble at all. Hehehe… I wonder how much money I’ll be able to sweep up on this little journey?’
This operation had essentially been promised free rein to plunder. All spoils of war would belong entirely to them.
Therefore, their hearts burned with nothing but endless greed for loot. Any sense of burden or fear toward the enemy was practically nonexistent.
They continued their carefree march.
Shwooooooo—!
An ominous sound tore through the air from above. It was the sharp whistle of something slicing through the wind.
Kwa-kwa-kwa—BOOM!
Countless Fire Balls slammed into the ground, incinerating every living thing in their path.
“Gah! W-what the hell is happening?!”
The man in command of the operation barely managed to shake off the shock of being thrown from his horse and looked around in panic.
“This… what is this? What the hell is—.”
Kwa-kwa-kwa—BOOM!
His despair meant nothing. The rain of flaming orbs continued to mercilessly blanket his army.
Wherever a volley passed, nothing remained but blackened lumps of charcoal. Whether a knight or an infantryman had stood there made no difference.
All that existed was an inexplicable rain of fire falling from nowhere, burning everything to ash.
“R-retreat! Retreat!”
With what little sanity he had left, he desperately shouted the order to withdraw.
Kwa—ga-ga-gang!
But his voice was swallowed by the roar of the battlefield and never reached anyone.
Shwooooooo—!
And then a Fire Ball fell directly above his head.
“Ah.”
BOOM!
He, too, was left as nothing more than a small pile of charcoal abandoned on the field.
The performance of the Magical Unit Mk.2 was outstanding.
Yep. As expected, you really do need numbers.
Just look at that overwhelming firepower!
Excluding the ten men I had sent with Bruno for reconnaissance, the rest were assigned to artillery support. That gave us roughly a hundred Altar Cannons—just shy of that number, actually.
‘And simply firing them in sequence was enough to melt the enemy like ice cream.’
Back when we had only six pathetic troops, we had squeezed out every last drop of firepower using every trick in the book. Those days had been truly brutal.
‘Fuck, that was genuinely exhausting. Operating dual cannons, blocking knight charges… all of it.’
But they say that after hardship comes sweet reward. We had now grown the magical unit into something that could proudly be called a proper battalion.
“Hmm, it went smoother than expected. The enemy melted away without any real resistance.”
“I didn’t think it would be this one-sided, sir.”
Hans looked completely dazed.
Well, this was a sight that would have been absolutely impossible with only six people. His reaction was understandable.
“I never imagined the knights would die without even getting close. All the direct-fire Altar Cannons that Helmut had buried in preparation for close combat have become completely useless.”
“It’s better that they’re useless.”
Just in case the knights charged, we had positioned some personnel and cannons in near-direct-fire configurations.
‘If they had charged, we were ready to slam the shots straight into their faces.’
In the end, it had literally been wasted effort. But a good outcome is a good outcome.
An overwhelming victory. It was the sweetest fruit we had tasted since the beginning.
‘Until now we’ve always been fighting at a disadvantage. So this feels surreal.’
Even today’s battle, if you looked purely at numbers, had been a clear disadvantage. We had been outnumbered ten to one—roughly a hundred against a thousand.
‘But a hundred tanks and a thousand infantrymen aren’t exactly equal, are they?’
We might not be tanks, but when it came to pure firepower, we were probably close. Meanwhile, the enemy was less like interwar infantry and more like medieval peasant conscripts.
How the hell were we supposed to lose?
But when I looked around, Hans wasn’t the only one standing there in a daze. He had actually recovered somewhat. The rest of the troops looked like they were still dreaming.
“Did… did we win?”
“This overwhelmingly? We just followed orders and fired Fire Balls…”
Rather than joy at victory, the dominant emotion seemed to be a bewildered sense of ‘Can we really win this easily?’
It was understandable. The enemy had possessed over fifty knights—even if they were third-rate—and more than a thousand infantry. Yet in less than thirty minutes of simply following orders and shooting, we had already won the battle.
It was hard to process.
Woooong! Crackle!
I switched on the amplification magic tool and addressed the troops.
“Soldiers! How did you find your first battle?”
All eyes turned toward me.
Most faces were still blank. The gap between what they had known as common sense and the actual result was so vast that their brains seemed to be buffering.
‘Then I’ll just have to wake them up properly.’
“This overwhelming firepower! This overwhelming victory! It is the result we created together! Do you feel it now? You have won!”
At the magical word “victory,” one by one they began to regain their senses and realize what had happened.
Soon that realization turned into joy, then into cheers that filled the entire battlefield.
“Waaaaaaaaah!”
The cheers rang out powerfully. The unexpected overwhelming triumph kept the celebration going without end.
“Do you finally feel what it means to be part of the Magical Unit? Are you ready to march into battle with me? Are you ready to rise through the ranks?”
“Yes, sir! Long live Commander Sternfeldt! Long live! Long live! Long live!”
It was pure pandemonium.
…I had successfully drawn a response, but I hadn’t expected the reaction to be this strong.
It seemed the “rise through the ranks” propaganda I had drilled into them during training had taken root quite deeply.
We spent a long time shouting and basking in the atmosphere of victory.
Afterward, we finished cleaning up the equipment we had laid out and整理 the battlefield. By the time we were done, dusk had settled over the land.
I entered my tent and activated the Communication Magic Tool.
The person on the other end was the 1st Prince, current supreme commander of the royal army.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“We’ve achieved victory.”
“There is no need for that, Your Highness. We suffered zero casualties.”
“No, Your Highness. The enemy has been completely annihilated.”
After those words, a long silence followed.
This was getting awkward. The lack of response made me feel like I had done something wrong. It was strange—I hadn’t made any mistakes this time—yet the silence of people in high positions always seemed to carry a strange magic.
A moment later, the 1st Prince’s voice returned.
Not just a few administrators—he was calling back the entire unit.
‘Doesn’t that mean he’s planning to reward every single member?’
His generosity was truly impressive. As expected of the 1st Prince.
I probably would have prepared one even without him saying so, but the fact that he emphasized it specifically made the meaning quite clear.
‘…Is this a knighthood? Is he raising my title?’
Was it okay for me to get my hopes up?