Chapter 129
Chapter 129
"Wolf banner! It's Ulbuth!"
"Ulbuth? That bastard Kairan?!"
Though Logan saw his father grit his teeth, his attention was elsewhere.
His senses, sharpened several times beyond normal, detected something unusual among the enemy forces.
The familiar weapons held by over four thousand enemy soldiers.
The enemy knights positioned at the rear—completely opposite to the standard formation of this era.
A formation that mirrored MacLaine's own unique battle array, designed to maximize the effectiveness of a single weapon.
'Repeating crossbows?!'
Logan's eyes wavered momentarily at the unexpected development, but he quickly regained his composure.
'I knew the crossbows would spread eventually anyway.'
His gaze flickered sideways.
Vifros had taken a large number of crossbows from Tomodo Castle.
If the weapons were going to spread, Logan had assumed it would start with Vifros.
'No. Lina... Right, it must have been her.'
Come to think of it, Ulbuth had shown interest in repeating crossbows ever since they began selling Imporic.
Logan swiftly erased the fleeting image of the silver-haired noblewoman from his mind and drew his own crossbow—a disposable artifact he had named the "Bomb Bow," combining the rapid-fire mechanism of the repeating crossbow with the destructive power of Liberatio.
"Logan?"
Seeing him draw a weapon that was supposed to remain hidden until the decisive moment, Patrick raised a hand in alarm.
But—
"It seems the enemy has repeating crossbows."
"What?!"
"We must crush them in the first strike."
With those words, Logan signaled Heinkel and gathered those who had already been issued Bomb Bows—barely eighteen in total, including himself, his father, and Heinkel.
Ronian, Victor, Eileen, and the elite crossbow cavalry trainees—those whose Force absorption was exceptionally fast, likely to become knights soon—had been given these weapons with the simple order: Don't die easily.
Logan summoned twelve of these soldiers.
Even if he reserved the Bomb Bows of the command staff, the weapons distributed to these men would have to be expended.
'No choice. We can't hesitate here. We must trample them overwhelmingly.'
Of course, the odds of these replicas surpassing the originals were slim.
But this was no time to test that assumption.
"When I give the signal, fire the Bomb Bows in a straight line toward the enemy."
"Sir?"
"The enemy soldiers appear to be carrying repeating crossbows."
At this distance, confirming such a detail would be impossible for anyone with normal vision.
Yet no one doubted Logan's words.
The assembled soldiers drew their faintly glowing blue crossbows and aimed forward.
And when the enemy closed within 500 meters—
"Fire!"
At the simple command, twenty-four blue quarrels shot forth in rapid succession from the twelve soldiers' hands.
At this range, the others couldn't even make out the enemy's faces clearly.
But the quarrels streaking straight through the air struck the densely packed enemy forces without fail.
BOOOOM!
"AAAAAH!"
"W-What?!"
"Magic! It's magic!"
The Ulbuth soldiers' rear formation turned into utter chaos.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"AAARGH!"
"S-Save me!"
"Fire!"
The formation disintegrated in moments.
To the soldiers, it was as if lightning had struck their own forces from a distance where the enemy wasn't even visible.
The massive fissure created by 120 explosive quarrels fired from just twelve Bomb Bows.
Despite this, the charging enemy formation continued closing in rapidly.
Logan signaled to widen that fissure several times over.
'Already?'
Clayton, urging the soldiers pulling thirty carts at the rear of the crossbow cavalry, turned his head at the unexpectedly early explosions.
Then came the screams.
"Master Clayton!"
The fluttering banner from the command post signaled a change in tactics.
"Now, boys!"
"Yes!"
Barking orders to his disciples, Clayton himself lifted a dozen intermediate magic stones and drew in mana.
Then, as quickly as possible, he cast the signature spell of his school.
"Arise!"
GRROOOWL.
The magic stones thrown onto the ground gathered clumps of earth, rising into humanoid shapes.
Fifteen 3-meter golems summoned by Clayton, eleven by his disciples, and one notably smaller 1.5-meter golem—obeying the commands of a petite girl—began sprinting toward the carts.
Each golem grabbed a handful of blue stones.
"Enemy distance—400 meters!"
At Clayton's shout, the golems moved in unison.
Unlike humans, these magical constructs could perform precise actions with exact angles and force after minimal training.
"Throw!"
WHOOSH.
The stones, glowing red-hot with applied force, soared high into the air, propelled by the golems' superhuman strength.
And then—
KABOOOOOM!
The prelude to destruction echoed across the battlefield.
"W-What?! What is this?!"
Kairan Ulbuth, always composed and dignified, lost his cool and began shouting.
His trump card—the weapon meant to crush the enemy—was collapsing before it could even be used.
"My lord, it's magic!"
"Are there mages in the enemy ranks?! This makes no sense!"
Even with mages present, bombarding thousands of troops at once should have been impossible.
The battlefield descended into chaos in moments.
Kairan Ulbuth had only one choice left.
"Knights! Send the knights charging! Force a melee!"
If the armies tangled together, such indiscriminate magical bombardment would become impossible.
That was his only hope.
But even that was merely wishful thinking.
"Infantry, reload! Prepare volley fire against charging knights!"
At the command of Kaisolon, the infantry commander and drill instructor, the soldiers moved with precision.
And then—
"Fire!"
A hail of quarrels—now MacLaine's signature weapon—rained down on the approaching knights.
RATATATAT!
The Ulbuth knights' charge visibly slowed.
Perhaps prepared for the repeating crossbows, none of the knights fell to arrows alone.
But their horses were another matter.
NEEEIGH!
The moment the lead horses began collapsing—
At Kaisolon's signal, MacLaine's other blades began moving.
"Crossbow cavalry, deploy left and right! Split into two units, maintain range, and harass the broken forces. Hit and run—no reckless engagements!"
"Yes!"
NEEEIGH!
At the shout of Victor—a commoner-born knight who had trained alongside them—the crossbow cavalry surged forward.
They fanned out to the left and right of the central battlefield, where crossbow fire was concentrated, and charged toward the enemy.
Then, they raised their crossbows toward the knights whose mobility was effectively crippled.
"Fire!"
THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!
"AAARGH!"
The first screams erupted from the Ulbuth knights.
Though they had admirably withstood the barrage from over three thousand soldiers, the sudden crossfire from the flanks was disastrous.
But the crossbow cavalry, having achieved decent results, didn't linger to pick off the knights. Instead, they charged toward the disarrayed enemy infantry formation.
"Burn it all to the ground!"
"Yes!"
—You must set the example for the common soldiers.
Victor, leading the charge, raised his crossbow instead of his sword, recalling his lord's words.
A measure that might have drawn protest from conventional knights.
But Victor accepted it willingly.
Because—
'No matter the method, the faster we crush the enemy, the safer Ria will be.'
So, by any means necessary, annihilating the enemy quickly was paramount.
That was Victor's priority.
This mindset—later earning him the epithet The Slayer, even more infamous than his future title Noble Slayer—was born here.
"AAAAH!"
The distant screams from the enemy's rear signaled that Victor's crossbow cavalry had begun ravaging Ulbuth's forces.
Now, MacLaine's strongest weapons moved into action.
"Son. Let's go."
"Yes!"
153 knights, including MacLaine's two highest-ranking knights.
And 62 reluctant knights from Pereta, following their lord's orders.
Over 200 knights charged toward Ulbuth's knights, who were falling one by one.
"Cease fire!"
"Hold your shots!"
At Kaisolon's timely command, the deadly rain stopped, and the Ulbuth knights instinctively sighed in relief.
Then—
MacLaine's fresh knights crashed into Ulbuth's battered forces, over half of whom had already fallen or been wounded.
"Damn it!"
At the forefront of the knight formation, a man wielding a massive greatsword had flawlessly blocked hundreds of quarrels.
Nick Marsel—Ulbuth's sole high-ranking knight and captain of their knight order, known as The Sword Breaker—exploded with killing intent at the sight of the charging enemy knights.
He assumed these rural bumpkins—whose lord was their only high-ranking knight—were mocking them after their brief setback with the new weapons and now dared to charge head-on.
"Aman! Lacer! Ready up! We'll crush these insolent fools!"
"Yes!"
"Leave it to us, Captain!"
Two subordinates—one large, one small—took position at his sides.
And with them at the core, Ulbuth's knights began rallying their momentum.
"For Ulbuth!"
"For Ulbuth!"
'We'll crush them spectacularly. Then turn the tide.'
Nick Marsel forcibly ignored the screams from the rear, brainwashing himself with that thought.
In the end, battles were always decided by knights—or mages.
In a world where knights vastly outnumbered mages, the knights' victory was synonymous with the war's outcome.
'Who cares about foot soldiers' weapons?'
If they could just crush the enemy knights, they could regain the advantage.
So they had to finish this perfectly from the start.
With all his might, he swung his sword at the enemy's vanguard—a blue-haired brat who looked far too young.
"Die!"
CRAAASH!
With a roar filled with killing intent, the steel greatsword in his hands shattered instantly, sending dozens of Force-imbued fragments flying forward.
This was why Nick Marsel—captain of Ulbuth's knight order, one of the kingdom's top three wealthiest houses—carried five or six massive steel greatswords instead of artifacts or mithril blades.
His unique technique—Break Wave.
He was certain this attack would shred the brat and overturn the enemy's front line.
But that expectation crumbled instantly.
BOOOOM!
A golden wave erupted from the red-haired brat, sweeping aside the fragments of Break Wave and surging back toward him.
"Impossible...!"
Nick Marsel panicked but instinctively drew another greatsword and swung.
Fortunately, his perfectly executed Force Blade split the weakened golden wave in half.
But—
SCREEEECH!
A golden Force Blade over two meters long shot from the enemy's sword, piercing his greatsword.
The momentum of the charge, the quality of the blade, and—above all—the fundamental gap in skill.
The result was pitifully one-sided.
CLANG!
The tip of his massive, beautifully crafted greatsword—wrapped in crimson Force—was severed effortlessly.
Instinctively, Nick Marsel rolled backward.
That momentary evasion prolonged his life—if only briefly.
WHOOSH!
The golden Force Blade grazed over his head.
His chest chilled as his eyes widened—
FLASH!
A golden beam shot from the enemy's blade, piercing his chest hollowly.
"Guh—!"
"Kuh—!"
"AAAH!"
The beam that passed through Nick Marsel's chest elicited more screams from those behind him, but he could no longer pay attention.
Not metaphorically—a literal cold wind seeped through his chest.
Within seconds, his consciousness blurred, and his limbs grew weak.
But the enemy didn't grant him even that brief respite.
With fading vision, Nick Marsel watched the golden Force Blade flying toward him.
'To... end like this.'
SLASH!
His head soared through the air, severed from his body.
His retinas captured the image of another crimson Force Blade slaughtering his subordinates, but his departing soul felt nothing.