Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Burn the Enemy's Supplies First (3)
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The charge order came down, and we bolted out like absolute maniacs.
"Hand over everything you've got and fuck off! You slow-ass snail bastards!"
"You slimy fucks who can't do shit but ooze around—today your big bro here's gonna smash every last bit of your shells!"
"If you don't wanna die, lick the goddamn ground!"
We were way outnumbered, so our only option was to run like hell.
To be precise, it was more like taking advantage of the early chaos—while they were still rattled from the initial wipeout and hadn't clocked our numbers yet—to hightail it out fast.
A real man sets his mind on something and doesn't look back.
'Push hard with the opening momentum, no matter what.'
Behind us, the mages and archers kept unleashing a nonstop barrage of spells and arrows.
"Agh, fuck! Spare me..."
"My body! My arm, my leg—euugh."
"Don't panic, eyes on the enemy! This is the war you all wanted... guk."
The Montmartre snail bastards we'd ambushed were completely losing their shit from the sudden rain of magic and arrows.
They seemed like soldiers with no experience getting jumped. Totally dumbfounded, heads whipping this way and that, souls straight-up vacated.
"Should I grab the spear? Nah, draw the sword from my belt?"
One platoon leader was yelling about forming a phalanx even as the enemy closed in right on top of them.
"Did you assholes train for shit? Huddle up! Those long spears in your hands aren't decorations, are they? Form spear phalanxes by platoon!!!"
A rookie knight from their side charged out ahead, no orders from any higher-up.
"I, Glasé Bron, knight of Baron Garssong, will fight at the vanguard!"
When people get thrown into earthquakes or fires—unexpected disasters like that—some idiots always pop up doing the dumbest shit.
"Haksen, Squad Leader, those fuckers aren't total morons, are they?"
Haksen chuckled even mid-charge.
"What's so surprising? They babble nonsense right after waking up, and one smack to the back of the head turns 'em retarded."
"Fair point."
I gripped the sword in my hand tight.
Like blood pumping from the heart through the body, I circulated Aura all over mine.
The 20kg-plus armor didn't feel like a feather, but it lightened up plenty as my strength surged in an instant.
'This sensation never stops being a thrill, no matter how many times I feel it.'
At the same time, I bellowed encouragement loud enough for my platoon to hear.
"Forget the rest—charge in with pure grit! Fuck 'em half as hard as you do whores, you pervy bastards!"
Captain Dalton and the other officers were firing off similar hype for their troops.
"Time to show 'em how badass the White Beard Mercenary Corps really is! Charge without a care for front or back!"
"Anyone who hesitates dies by my hand first!"
"Every fucker here is a retard. Give these snail retards a real taste of adult spice!"
Just as we reached the supply train led by that baron and were about to swing our blades...
Orders rang out from the baron and his high-and-mighties.
"Drop the spears and huddle! Form a tight formation and hold them off! Knights, dismount and fight with the soldiers!"
The orders made perfect sense.
A mounted knight was basically a tank-level murder machine, sure.
But they needed distance to build speed and unleash their full power—and right now, we were right up in their faces.
Hell, even knight bros would just flail around like fish out of water on horseback like that.
"Smash the heads of the guys in front of you, and if you see knights on horses, group up five to a team! Surround 'em and wreck their legs first!"
"Yes, Platoon Leader!"
And just like that, my platoon and I slammed into the enemy.
"Fuck off or die, chickenshits!"
I stabbed the heart of some poor bastard right in front of me.
"Guhk, fuck."
His puke-blood splattered my breastplate.
The rest of my platoon hacked away at panicked foes with maces and short swords.
"Snail bastards, you move like shit even when you're supposed to! Pathetic fucks!"
"Shut your trap and kill the one in front of you! Chop off some heads, you worthless shits—you might even make some coin!"
"Don't worry, sir. I'll bag at least ten of these fuckers today, Squad Leader."
Foes with zero prep and brains fried couldn't withstand our mercenaries' merciless onslaught.
And the enemy knights still panicking...
"Fuck, calm down! Victor! Calm the hell down, Victor!"
Looked every bit the green low-rank knight, sloppy as hell.
Our platoon's biggest opportunist smartass, Baker, wasn't gonna miss that.
"Dilten, veteran sir! Let's nab that fucker."
Dilten grabbed Baker and some others and rushed over the second he heard.
"Mace their legs first! Don't hit the horse for no reason—that big bastard rears up, we're fucked!"
Our veteran merc Dilten smirked, circling the low-rank knight.
"Legs first! Toes to shins to thighs—grind 'em to dust!"
Baker and the guys raised their maces.
"Time to die, cute little knight."
"Fuck, pisses me off seeing you prance around on horseback. We walked our asses off till our legs nearly fell off."
"Drop dead."
The low-rank knight thrashed on his horse, channeling Aura into wild sword swings to fight back...
"Agh! Fuck! Victor, calm down! Calm down!"
"Swinging a sword from horseback? Best you can do is behead another mounted knight."
Truth was, if that knight got his cool back, he could've taken our five guys no sweat...
But with his composure shattered, stuck on a stationary horse...
"M-my legs. Aaaagh, my leeeegs!!"
The low-rank knight's legs got pulverized by our soldiers, and Baker dragged him down with his own mace.
"Off ya go!"
Baker caved his skull right after.
"Fuck yeah, I'm the Knight Slayer!"
Even those worthless shits managed to kill a knight teaming up—so as platoon leader, I had to show way better.
'Fuck, in the end, it's all about a man's pride and grit.'
"The White Beard Mercenary Corps' mad dog Martin is coming through! Anyone who wants to die, block the way!"
Of course, no one's gonna step aside just 'cause I said that nicely.
"Fuck off. Didn't your mommy teach you showoffs die first?"
Hey, if nice words don't work...
Make 'em move by killing 'em.
"Told you not to block the way, asshole!"
I swung my sword and lopped off his head, then carved through any enemy merc or standing army grunt in my path, one by one.
"Pack mule or serf, I don't give a shit. Step aside and live; don't, and you all die. Martin Platoon! Follow up! Any stragglers get the number 8 and 11 exercises back at camp—till you drop!"
"Yes, sir!"
"While they're still clueless, smash 'em all!"
About ten minutes of berserk rampage later, a loud voice boomed from the supply train's center.
"I don't know how many there are, but don't fear these cheap sausage-grilling scum! Huddle up and protect the supply wagons!"
That snapped the enemy soldiers awake—they started clustering tight and proper.
"Huddle, fuck! Don't care how many, just group!"
"Protect the supplies at all costs! You camp-following merchants, grab a fucking sword and at least pretend to fight!"
"If they loot this shit, we're all dead! Starving to death!"
Fuck, shit's about to get rough now.
"Rally on me! We're punching straight through in one go!"
My platoon guys swarmed behind me in a flash.
On their side, some skilled-looking bastards dismounted and pointed swords our way.
"I, Marcel Leblanc, senior knight of Baron Garssong, will lop off you cowardly fucks' heads! Come on, let's have a real fight!"
Then the guy launched himself at the platoon next to mine and swung.
Not quite Expert level like Captain Dalton, but his sword packed a punch.
"Crazy bastard—whoever, deal with that maniac! Every swing fucking bisects people!!"
Those dead soldiers weren't in steel plate, but they had decent leather armor...?
And he cleaved 'em with one sword stroke.
'Fuck, that's Aura Expert threshold right there.'
I was glaring at him, tensed and waiting for an opening, when a voice came from the side.
"You take that rampaging fucker over there, Martin. I'm going for that baron's neck!"
Dalton said it and bolted straight for the baron.
The wild knight spotted me, grinned rotten-like, and beckoned with a finger.
"Sir Leblanc here will judge your skills proper. Come at me!"
...... To loot this whole supply train anyway, we gotta kill all the bigwigs...
And this asshole taunts me in the middle of it... I can't let that slide!