Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: 5. Plateau. (5)
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The sun finally crested the mountain ridge. Twilight rapidly blanketed the plateau, and even Herrera House's red flag, flapping wildly in the fierce wind, had lost its vibrant hue.
A heavy silence settled inside the tent. All the mercenaries, clad in full armor, took turns lying down or sitting up.
"...You think they'll really come?"
"Feels like I'm gonna drop dead from exhaustion..."
They'd fought like hell all morning, and the fatigue hadn't fully lifted. On top of that, they'd spent the entire day handling cleanup without a proper break.
Of course, the enemy was in the same boat. It was hard to believe they'd launch a night raid in this condition.
"They will. Probably. ...They've got nowhere left to retreat."
Unlike the mercenaries' doubts, Allen's tone was resolute.
No matter how barbaric the easterners were—only knowing how to charge headlong—not all of them could be like that. There had to be some who understood basic tactics, even if crudely. They'd propose a night raid to turn the tide, and that Aindolf guy would accept it in the end.
Honor or whatever, it wasn't worth more than victory.
...Truth be told, more than anything, Jihoo had suffered too many setbacks playing Guild Master. He wasn't sure if it was intentional by the system, but crises often followed achievements. As if warning him not to let his guard down until the very end.
"Captain, why don't you rest? You'll collapse at this rate."
"Yeah, get some shut-eye. We'll handle it. If they raid, we'll fight like mad."
"...I'm fine."
"At least close your eyes. What are we supposed to do if you keel over? We're like baby birds staring at our momma bird."
"Fuck your baby birds."
"What, bad metaphor?"
Allen yawned wide enough to split his mouth. Honestly, anxiety and pressure had kept him up earlier. ...He'd spoken with such confidence about the raid, but if they didn't show, it'd be fucking embarrassing.
"Fine, just a quick nap then. ...Wake me at the slightest sign of anything."
"Yes, Captain."
Only then did Allen slowly lie down on the mat. Ahh, shit... It felt so damn comfortable the moment he hit the ground that curses nearly slipped out.
This was why they said even after reading all the classics, the bed was king.
He passed out the instant his head touched down. The others chuckled softly at their snoring captain. They seized the moment to chat about him.
"What a guy. Tough as nails too. Who's the idiot who said southern nobles are cowards?"
"Born for this. A total genius. First captain like him in all my merc days."
"He's going places. You can just feel it."
"Wish I could stick with him... Shame my skills are so lacking."
The chatter died down soon enough. They nodded off in shifts too.
The night deepened.
The busty Elena jolted awake to the clamor of bells. Enemy attack!—the piercing scream stabbed into her ears.
Tonight, the risk of an enemy raid is high. We must prepare thoroughly.
Allen's prediction had hit the mark. Sure, anyone could say they might come, but his voice carried real conviction. Like he'd seen right through the enemy's thoughts.
She was already fully geared, so she burst straight out of the tent without delay.
Roaring cheers assaulted her ears the moment she emerged. Her claim that Aindolf, a man of honor, wouldn't stoop to a night raid? Proven dead wrong.
The enemy had seized the high ground. The plateau's slope wasn't steep, but it wasn't negligible either.
They'd crept up stealthily to scout Herrera's camp, then charged down like maniacs the second they were spotted—weapons waving, denying any prep time.
...But Herrera's crew was already armored and ready for battle.
Expecting panic and chaos, the Wirgang raiders faltered instead. No turning back now that they'd committed.
"Chargeee!"
Aindolf bellowed it. He led his mercenaries straight into the fray like a valiant warrior.
At first, Wirgang seemed to have the edge. But soon, the tide slowly turned toward Herrera.
It was pure stamina difference. Defenders always had the fatigue advantage over raiders. A successful raid might've flipped it, but failure left them worse off mentally and physically.
Aindolf realized the raid had flopped and began to waver.
He'd thought it a perfect strike exploiting enemy complacency—yet they'd seen it coming.
...Elena...!
Aindolf mistakenly figured Elena had planned the defense. He shifted targets.
Capture Elena as a prisoner—
Victory in straight combat looked slim. Take the head honcho. No other options left.
"Follow meee!"
Aindolf bravely took point. His Aindolf Mercenary Corps surged behind with terrifying momentum.
The desperate charge was impressive—even Herrera's side flinched despite their momentum.
Elena saw their intent as Aindolf's crew barreled toward her. They were gunning for her.
One spell could've blocked them hard, but positioning was the issue. Enemies charging downhill made clean casting risky—allies could get hit. They'd planned for her magic, picking that angle.
She abandoned magic. No good in a tangle of friendlies and foes. ...Had to trust Roakin Mercenary Corps.
"Hold them off!"
Roakin's captain raised his iron-studded mace and yelled. The two corps clashed ferociously.
But stopping Aindolf, famed swordsman, wasn't easy—especially with exhausted mercenaries. Roakin started giving ground.
Ah.
Elena flinched at the screams drawing closer. Glimpses through the melee: Aindolf closing in with murderous intent.
W-what do I do? Me, what should I...?
No time for orders. Aindolf's savage glares pinned her like a butterfly in a web, frozen.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her collar and yanked her away. Ack—! She looked up at her rescuer: Allen, face splattered with blood. Grim-faced, eyes blazing, he shouted.
"Where's your head at?! Enemy's coming!"
Allen's Mercenary Corps instantly formed up before them. A thick wall of bodies in seconds.
Allen released her collar, pointing sharply in warning.
"Get it together! If they nab you, we're done! After all this hell, you wanna lose pathetically?!"
The busty Elena gulped dryly and nodded stiffly. Allen saw it, thought too soon for big responsibilities, and shook his head lightly.
Meanwhile, Aindolf roared in fury at losing Elena up close. How, after getting this far—!
But blocking him: that same corps from morning's display. Not invincible—some wounded.
He glimpsed a chance, but momentum had swung too far. Half his corps dead or maimed. His captain begged retreat.
"Retreat again?!"
"Casualties are too heavy... We gotta pull back now. Raid failed!"
Failed.
The word doused Aindolf's boiling rage, restoring reason.
Glancing back: too many missing faces.
Ah.
No time for pride. Save as many men as possible now.
"...Retreat! Fall back! Retreat—! Pull back!"
Aindolf yelled it. Wirgang fled again, leaving heavy sacrifices.
The fight cut off like hitting a cliff. No victory cheers on the battlefield.
Just the pained groans and sobs of the survivors.
Allen, leaving half-dazed Elena behind, ordered his men.
Treat everyone still breathing, enemy or ally. Patch 'em up however.
His gaze swept the corpse-strewn plateau. Nose numb to the stench of blood.
Allen was a staunch atheist, but now he couldn't help praying for the dead.
May your next life be peaceful—