Chapter 30
Chapter 30
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: If You Want to Rise in the World, Enter the Tiger's Den (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Fuck, you bastard whose guts aren't even enough for me to jump rope with! Get your ass out here right now!”
“I'll rip your tongue out while you're still alive and carve you up myself!”
“If you're mercenaries, charge in like real men with your spears! I'll ram my thick, heavy spear right through your fucking necks!”
It was hotter than I'd even hoped for.
Watching those assholes lit up like that was getting me all pumped.
Dalton shot me a quick glance before barking out his order in that heavy voice of his.
“These fuckers are losing their shit over what Martin said. They need a proper welcome! Rain every arrow and spell we've got on 'em—make sure they don't feel shortchanged.”
Our mercenary company's archers and mage shouted back in unison.
“Pull back your bowstrings right up to the point your fingers might snap, then let 'em fly! Stick an arrow in those ugly mugs uglier than the rags they're wearing—make 'em pretty!”
“Time to show the White Beard Mercenary Corps how badass we really are!”
“They're coming at us in such a swarm that even half-assed shots are guaranteed hits! Point your spells or arrows anywhere and just unload!”
Moments later, a barrage of arrows and spells poured down from our lines onto the enemy.
Every volley of arrows brought agonized death screams from the foes as they dropped, and each fireball hurled by the mages streaked red trails through the air, incinerating groups of them in flames.
Lucia had been pretty flustered on the first day of the war, but thanks to my awesome guidance as squad leader, she was syncing up perfectly with our company's mages now.
"Fire, become the power that burns the enemies before me and turn all to black ash! Fireball!" ⟨ Fireball ⟩
With her tail straight up in total focus, Lucia fighting like that was even more stunning than she'd looked in the game.
And right in front of me, the idiots who'd taken my bait were charging like a herd of mad cattle, dropping dead like autumn leaves in the wind.
“Fuck, it's hot as hell! Somebody save me!!”
“Ugh, shit... Never thought I'd go out this pathetically...”
“Life's fucking bullshit...”
But true to form for a band of macho bastards who'd storm hell itself for booze, women, and coin, they didn't give a damn about their comrades dying right in front of them and kept raging toward us like maniacs.
Seeing hundreds of men charging like they'd all popped the same berserk pill was kinda scary for a second.
'Fuck, up close it's got way more impact than I imagined.'
But the more of them there were, the fiercer their momentum, the more room the White Beard Mercenary Corps had to shine.
A big showing here would boost my rep, which meant Dalton would naturally up my payout—and my odds of landing Karin and Lucia would skyrocket too.
Not that those two were the type to fall for fame, money, or skill alone, of course.
Karin saw potential in the man called Martin Meyer—that's why she warmed to me.
To win Lucia's heart, I had to be someone she could rely on, and beyond that, a towering tree to support her growth.
“Martin Squad! Grip those spears tight! If you don't wanna die like dogs to those horny fuckers charging like rabid beasts, keep your heads in the game!”
Saying that, I steeled myself and tightened my grip on my spear.
“White Beard Mercenary Corps! If you don't wanna croak to those brain-dead shits under that Filo bastard count who's head over heels for Martin's hot taunt, grab your spears tight! Today, we're the fucking gods of this battlefield!”
Dalton came up beside me with his spear ready, smirking as he said,
“Fuck, you little shit. I did what you said, but if we get fucked, you're dead by my hand first.”
“I was just making a suggestion, Captain.”
“Shut your trap before I sew it shut. Or go nuts like last time and slaughter every last one of those spear-horny bastards itching to skewer our necks.”
His words were rough, but I could feel his genuine concern and expectations for me in there.
Before I could reply, the brainless pigs hired by that Filo count—who had nothing on their minds but killing us—came surging right up close.
“Martin Squad! Eyes front—no looking away! Sweep and stab whatever's in front of you! Just like in training!”
Soon enough, the enemy mercenaries crashed into us like waves, thrusting for our necks.
It was the simplest, most devastating attack in a charge: using their momentum to aim straight for the throat.
I dodged that brute-force stab by half a step.
“Fuck?”
The guy who'd lunged at me looked stunned.
I immediately rammed my spear through his throat, punching a hole clean through.
“You were raging to shove your spear down someone's gullet, and look at you now.”
Muttering that, I scanned around.
My squad had followed orders—sweeping and stabbing—which blocked the enemy's most powerful charge attack and let them kill some too.
Captain Dalton parried the initial rush with his long spear, then tossed it aside like the aura expert he was, drew his sword, and started tearing through their ranks like a whirlwind.
Even if these were just scrubs...
“Want the head of Dalton, captain of the White Beard Mercenary Corps? Come and get it, you filthy fucks!”
With blue aura cloaking his body, Dalton swung his blade through the spear-wielding mercenaries like a fish slicing through parting waves, cleaving impartially through anyone who got in his way.
Watching that, I couldn't help but yearn to chomp some spirit pills or grind levels in this weird-ass world where killing gave XP—reach aura expert status someday myself.
'No reason I fucking can't.'
Grinding my teeth, I stabbed and skewered necks and torsos of any foe showing the slightest opening.
After I pierced one guy, another who looked like his buddy flushed red, yelling as he charged me.
“You fucking son of a bitch! Die, you enemy of Peterson!”
In war, you can't let yourself get riled up over who dies. Getting emotional just means handing your neck to the next bastard.
As I turned my spear tip, an arrow whistled through the air and thudded into the raging guy's neck.
Looking back, Karin was locked in with hawk eyes on her next target, dead serious.
They say beauties make anything look good, and damn if she didn't prove it—stunning as hell.
“Martin Squad, form up, fuckers! Scatter and you're all dead!”
At my shout, my macho underlings scrambled back into position with spears in hand.
“No matter how weak they look like dwarven shits, don't get cocky! United we're strong, scattered we're dog food!”
With that jab, we moved like machines until their momentum finally slackened.
Whenever some asshole thrust to kill us, one guy would sweep or dodge his spear, and the next would exploit the gap to stab him dead—pure teamwork focus.
“Baker, you fucker's spawn! I swept it—stab the bastard now!”
“Dirty thanks, you prick!”
These rookies on their first real fight looked like they could hold their own against vets when they stuck to the links tight.
“Aw, fuck!”
But they were green chicks after all, so the chain broke sometimes.
“You shitty fucks, I said snap back to formation if it breaks!”
Whenever that happened, I'd cover what I could—batting enemies aside with my long spear and killing off any threatening my men.
“Don't showboat—just do what I say, you worthless shits!”
About an hour in?
Their fiery charge died down, and we caught some distance. Our mercenaries panted while glaring at the enemy.
“Hah, fuck... I'm dying here...”
“That Martin squad leader's one crazy fuck. Why's he gotta show off like that?”
“'Cause that bastard's grandstanding's gonna jack up our rep and pay. But if we get wrecked, we roast him on a spit, fuckers.”
That's when gut instinct hit me.
Strike now, and we'd deal massive damage to Filo count's army—flip this war in one go.
“White Beard Mercenary Corps! This is Dalton's command! Grab your spears and prep to charge—right fucking now! Do or die, smash 'em!”