Chapter 80
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: The General's Roar
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Vellaland.
In the rearmost area of the Vellaland front, the most intense battlefield on the continent, a cacophony of chaos and screams rivaled that of the front lines. The screams mostly came from the wounded, and the chaos from the priests and doctors trying to manage them.
New recruits darted about as if their feet were on fire, resupplying the front lines with arrows, swords, and shields, while officers rushed to calm the panicked soldiers and dispatch them to positions that could influence the tide of battle.
Nuns and priests didn't even have a moment to catch their breath as they transported and treated the injured, who could do nothing but scream in agony.
“Get a priest or a nun over here, now! The platoon leader is on his last breath!”
“The front line is short on arrows! Quartermaster, send some men to resupply them right now! It’s urgent!”
“Tell the 2nd Platoon to fall back to the rear. The Mazoku’s attention is focused on the front lines right now, so…”
*BOOM!*
A momentary silence fell over the chaotic rear. A deafening roar, accompanied by a colossal flash of light, had paralyzed their senses. At the sudden glare, some of the wounded thought their final moment had come.
The flashes and roars repeated several times. The soldiers in the rear, belatedly regaining their senses, finally realized that the thunder and lightning had deafened and blinded them and turned their eyes toward the front lines.
Viewed from a distance, the front line was a scene straight out of hell.
Thick, dark clouds covering the sky were being sucked into the center of the front lines at an unprecedented speed, and a baptism of massive lightning strikes rained down relentlessly upon the battlefield. Even in the rear, dozens of kilometers away, the thunder was so immense it made their ears ring and their bodies tremble, and they could feel the air heating up on their skin.
After about a minute of this celestial wrath, the sky shamelessly revealed its blue face as if nothing had happened.
Most soldiers stared blankly, unable to comprehend the situation, but a black-haired mage with a pipe in his mouth simply watched the front lines with a satisfied smile.
“…This, too, exceeds my expectations.”
Beside the pipe-smoking, black-haired mage, Bel Artois, stood Saintess Grisha. Laughter filled their bloodshot eyes.
“He’s Alter Haindel’s prized disciple, you know. On top of that, they say he’s the youngest 5th-Circle mage in history. It’s not strange for him to stand out.”
Bel gave a small nod at Grisha’s words. Though they belonged to different schools of magic, he seemed relieved by the emergence of a talented junior.
“How many Overlords can you see?”
“Hmm… Hold on a moment.”
Grisha replied casually and leaned forward. Thanks to a buff that enhanced her five senses, her vision was now sharper than even that of the elves.
“…I can visually identify two Overlords right now. One is… recovering from being fried by the lightning, and the other is sizing up the situation. The mist and dark clouds have cleared, just as we expected… and the look in the soldiers' eyes seems to have changed, too.”
“What about the other two?”
“Can’t see them. They’re probably hiding somewhere.”
“Right. They’ll just hide in some gloomy corner and watch until the two of us show ourselves. Even if they’re hesitating, an Overlord is still an Overlord. It’s hard to imagine those two monsters will be killed by the soldiers currently on the front lines.”
“Are you going to be okay? You’ve used up quite a lot of mana.”
“I was just pretending my mana was drained for the sake of the operation. I still have plenty left.”
“…”
Grisha deliberately pretended not to notice Bel’s bluff.
Bel did indeed have some mana left, but… considering the scale of the battle to come, the amount remaining in his body was far from sufficient.
If she could have her way, she would have told him to stay in the rear. But she knew all too well that even if she said such a thing, Bel wouldn’t listen.
“Let’s go.”
Bel slowly started down the hill. Grisha followed him with a worried expression, and the officers and soldiers who saw them asked with anxious faces, “Where are you possibly going in your exhausted state?”
“To win.”
Hearing his answer, the officers and soldiers blocked his path, asking if he hadn’t used up all his mana.
“I am the supreme commander of this battlefield. The greatest reversal in history is about to take place. Are you telling me to lie down in my barracks bed and suck my thumb?”
Hearing Bel’s cold voice, the soldiers could no longer stop him. A new question merely burst from their lips.
“…Did you say a reversal, sir?”
“A reversal that will go down in the continent’s history. Just watch.”
Just watch.
Those words weren’t just for the soldiers before him. They were also for his subordinates who were buried somewhere on that battlefield, likely turned to dust.
Bel’s left arm began to ache again. Tinnitus rang in his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was from the thunder that had just swept the battlefield, or from some other wound.
An unnecessarily pleasant southerly wind began to blow.
For someone heading into battle, the breeze was far too gentle.
* * *
It was heating up.
The steel blades and shields were heating up, the mages’ voices were heating up, and the fingertips of the archers holding their bows were heating up.
The air was superheated, and the soldiers were more excited than necessary.
The infantry advanced, treading on the hardened ground, and the Overlord with enormous wings, Raguel, countered them by saying softly, “Block them.”
At his command, the solid ground began to shake. Mutants that had been hiding in the mud of the no-man’s-land revealed themselves.
Their bodies were shattered and charred black from the aftermath of the storm Rireu had created, but they somehow managed to move.
“Tsk, not even half of them survived.”
Raguel shot them a sharp, annoyed glare and raised a finger. At his command, the blackened lumps of flesh began to charge, wielding thick axes and greatswords.
The soldiers easily disposed of the injured Mutants. No matter how exhausted, those on this battlefield were the elite of the elite. Mutants that had been roasted once by lightning could not stop their advance.
“High-ranking lord spotted in the sky, one o’clock! He’s leading a group!”
A report that was almost a scream came from behind the soldiers. It was the voice of an elf holding a large bow.
Where the soldiers turned their eyes, Mazoku with massive wings were flying toward them, silhouetted against the blue sky.
“Prepare to intercept!”
Thanks to the disappearance of the mist and dark clouds, they were able to spot the enemy quickly. Elven archers and mages aimed their staves and arrows in unison, and soon, sharp arrowheads began to cut through the wind, flying straight and true.
An arrow loosed from its bowstring accurately struck the heart of a high-ranking Mazoku dozens of kilometers away. Its speed was unbelievable for an arrow shot by an ordinary human.
“Tailwind.”
That was because the aid of Atmospheric School mages had been added to the arrows fired by the archers. A large hole, as if from a cannonball, was blown through the Mazoku’s chest, and a massive shockwave spread to the Mazoku around it.
“Futile resistance…!”
The high-ranking Mazoku, a gaping hole in its chest, shouted as it instantly regenerated its broken body.
“Where’s its core?!”
“Is this any time to be figuring that out?! Just keep pouring it on, one will hit eventually!”
The archers’ arrows soared into the sky like a fountain. The air compressed at the back of the arrows exploded like gunpowder at the mages’ command.
Watching the rain of incoming arrows, the group of high-ranking Mazoku with large wings raised their palms. A faint veil enveloped their bodies, and the arrows that had been flying in a straight line suddenly veered off course, scattering in all directions.
It felt less like blocking an attack with a sturdy shield and more like a martial arts master deflecting an opponent’s punch.
“Damn it! Physical attacks don’t seem to be working!”
Watching the group of high-ranking Mazoku deflect countless arrows, one of the archers shouted. It was a form of defense he had never seen before.
And they had no time to analyze and find a counter to a defensive spell they were seeing for the first time. Even now, the high-ranking Mazoku were rapidly flying in to pour magic down on the infantry’s heads.
If they couldn’t intercept them immediately, it was clear their allies would suffer immense damage.
“Change of plans! Archers, support the ground troops! Mages will handle the interception directly…”
“Conflagration.”
A cold, chilling voice cut through the officer’s loudly issued command.
*BOOM!*
The next moment, a giant black spot appeared among the high-ranking Mazoku flying toward them, then rapidly expanded, emitting an intense light.
A massive ball of light that enveloped everything around it had descended out of nowhere.
The soldiers’ armor, shields, and swords, already heated, grew even hotter.
From the intense heat, the soldiers felt like seafood trapped in a steamer. Yet, rather than complaining or crying out in pain, they were busy letting out shouts of joy.
Because there was only one mage in this world who could create such a massive flame with just a single, soft-spoken word.
“All forces, do not stop your advance.”
The voice was cold, chilling, and incredibly sharp. Tinged with fury, it also held a mixture of unknown resentment and sorrow.
Faint ash began to settle on his jet-black hair. Nothing remained where the great explosion had occurred.
Behind the man who had turned dozens of high-ranking lords to ash with a single word stood a woman in a priest’s garb, heavily stained with blood and mud. She was reciting a low prayer for the bloody battlefield and the soldiers swinging their swords upon it.
“We are behind you.”
The black-haired mage spoke softly, then brushed the ash from his hair and muttered a curse under his breath.
The Overlord Raguel looked quite puzzled by Bel’s appearance.
“…You’re running dangerously low on mana. Have you forgotten that Mazoku can see mana? If you use any more magic, you’ll collapse from exhaustion.”
“Worrying about someone else’s mana… what a load of crap… so annoying.”
Bel seemed to be paying no mind to Raguel’s words.
“Ah! It’s because of that brat. You’re not confident that a pipsqueak who still has a long way to grow can win against the Overlords. But his potential is too great to let him die… so you’ve come to die in his place. A logical decision, certainly.”
After observing the situation for a moment, Raguel began to shout loudly, as if he had read Bel’s mind completely. *That moron seems to think Bel was forced to drag his exhausted body onto the battlefield to save me,* Bin clicked his tongue inwardly.
“So, do you have an escape plan? How will you get that brat out against four Overlords? With eighty percent of Vellaland in Mazoku hands, how do you plan to rescue that brat now…”
“Soldiers!”
Cutting off Raguel, Bel shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice was so loud and commanding, unbelievable for a mage, that the soldiers swinging their swords and shields couldn’t help but be momentarily captivated.
“…That son of a bitch.”
Having been so thoroughly ignored, Raguel’s expression soured as he openly showed his displeasure.
“All of you, did you eat a hearty breakfast this morning!”
Of course, whether Raguel showed his displeasure or not, Bel continued to speak.
“I don’t know where each of you calls home, but! If you didn’t eat a full breakfast this morning, you’re going to suffer from hunger all day. Because there will be no dinner tonight!”
The black-haired mage’s cry carried a great resonance. For this general, who had experienced so much blood and death over two months, harbored a deep anguish that no one could fathom.
“There will be no banquet to celebrate today’s victory! I’m sure most of you would rather have dinner with your families than with the same damn faces you’ve been stuck with for two months.”
At his victory-assured tone, the soldiers stared at each other, dumbfounded, before faint smiles began to appear.
The weight of Bel’s words was on a different level from that of other commanders.
Unlike ordinary commanders, Bel did not tell lies to boost morale. He had never once uttered even simple, straightforward lies like ‘reinforcements will arrive soon’ or ‘the tide of battle will turn in our favor.’
“Soldiers, well done for staying alive until today! And I have just one more thing to ask of you!”
He assessed the current situation with infinite coolness and relayed it to the soldiers exactly as it was. Whatever his natural disposition, Bel had always spoken of reality to the soldiers, who lived with the anxiety that they might die tomorrow, in a cold and detached manner.
“Suffer for just one more day! Be enraged for just one more day! Cut down our enemies for just one more day! For just one more day… die!”
When he spoke of a ‘high-risk mission,’ it was quite literally a suicidal mission with little chance of return, and when he spoke of an ‘easy mission,’ it was truly a task so simple one could do it with their eyes closed.
“In return, I will bring you victory. I will kill all four Overlords, without exception.”
Therefore… for him to be so certain of victory was a good omen for the soldiers.
Bel was not a man who would utter such pleasant lies, even if it meant having his tongue cut out.
The soldiers were certain.
Bel had been hiding some trump card until now, and at this very moment, he was about to play it.
The word ‘bluff’ was utterly incompatible with the man named Bel Artois.
He was an endlessly cynical realist, a ruthless pragmatist, and a perfect strategist without a single flaw.
“Your vengeance! As the general of the Continental Allied Forces, I, Bel Artois, will take responsibility for its execution!”
Bel Artois roared, as if vomiting up the deep resentment that had built up in his chest.
“Survival is not given freely! So struggle, soldiers! Seize it, soldiers! Lay down your lives, soldiers! If you don’t want to feel this hell again tomorrow, then scream and prepare to have your hearts pierced by the enemy’s blades!”
“Uwoooaaaaah!”
In response to Bel’s cry, the soldiers each let out their own screams. The hands gripping their swords trembled with a thrill, and their arms and legs were drenched in the sweat of battle’s heat.
The soldiers tore through the lumps of flesh before them, advancing ever faster. Poisonous blood melted their armor and shields, but they paid it no mind.
“Let’s go die together.”
The heat of the battlefield had now reached its peak.