Wolves and Real Combat
Scritch, scritch—
Thud thud thud thud—
Grrrr...
Awooooo~!
A massive blizzard of snow whipped through the air. It wasn't just wind-blown flakes.
It was the eerie friction of thousands of claws rending the frozen earth, clawing through piled snow.
Clouds of dirt and snow dust rose into the sky, veiling vision like fog. Terror arrived first, taking the shape of sound before touching flesh.
Out of the 500-strong wolf pack, the lead 200 charged like wild stallions, mad with bloodlust.
Their ragged breaths and starving howls pulsed like infrasound, shaking the slaves' empty bellies and quivering guts.
Thump, thump, thump.
Hearts hammered like war drums against eardrums, ready to burst.
5,000 paces, 4,000... As the distance closed, the vibrations slicing the tundra climbed through boot soles like an earthquake, rattling brains.
These weren't mere beasts.
Each was a massive boulder, a living weapon forged solely for slaughter.
"They're coming! Hold, you scum! Fall back and my blade finds you first!"
Dong-sok's sharp bellow echoed from the rear—the poison squad's enforcer—but there was no time to look.
Behind me, infantry with iron shields colder than wolves stood like a wall, eyes fixed on the slaves.
Kuuuwoooo—!
The lead gray wolf, first and largest, leaped skyward, slicing the air. Soon, wolves from every angle vaulted forward in a frenzy.
A brute at least three meters long blotted the sky, crashing into the line beside me.
It felt like a boulder plummeting from the heavens.
"Ah, aaaah! Stay back!"
The rebel slave right under the wolf and those nearby screamed, thrusting spears.
Pfshk—!
The flimsy spear tip pierced the wolf's chest, but it did nothing to halt the beast's savage charge.
The wolf snapped the wooden shaft like a matchstick and tore the slave's shoulder clean off.
Krunch! Grind!
"Aaaak! Help! Ple—"
His death cry cut short.
Human bone crumbled like a cracker in the wolf's jaws, the sound crystal clear.
Fetid blood sprayed everywhere, a fountain splattering my face.
The blood on my lips burned hot, sticky, tasting of vile death.
Shuuuuk—! Thunk!
At that instant, harsh commands from the fifth-rank officer and other commanders rang out, followed by arrows slicing air.
Crossbowmen and archers loosed their volley.
But many shafts pierced not wolves, but the necks of terror-struck slaves breaking formation.
Pfshk—! Crack!
The sound of tough muscle and bone shredding froze my thoughts.
I glimpsed an arrowhead jutting from a retreating slave's gut, twitching. This was hell—no mercy, no ethics.
A history student's first taste of the poison squad's brutality, straight from the records.
Grrrrr!
"Spears up! Fill gaps and hold!!"
The remaining 300 wolves hit the defensive line's left and right flanks. Close enough to see every coarse gray hair, every drooling saliva glob—
Boom—! Graaaaw!
A wolf the size of a mid-sized car slamming into men sounded like cannon fire or an explosion.
The raw impact returned as screams.
"Aaaak! My leg! My le—!"
"H-Help... please!"
Most front-three-row slaves' cries never finished.
The wolves' mass minced the first row into meat chunks; second and third filled with snapping bones.
True hell wasn't just wolf fangs.
When fear drove slaves rearward, the infantry's merciless pushback began.
"Push! Not one steps back!"
Rectangular iron shields battered slave backs.
Thud, thud! Slaves were shoved straight into wolf maws.
"Please! Let me back! Uwaaaak!"
Where wolves had breached to the infantry line, one slave—chest clawed open—tried tumbling rearward.
But the infantry behind impassively pinned his waist with shield bottoms, then shoved surrounding slaves forward.
The man ended sandwiched between wolf and shield.
The wolf crunched his upper body; his lower half trembled, blocked from retreat.
Riiip, shrrk~!
Skin peeling, muscle tearing—it shredded eardrums.
The most efficient, cruel tactic: humans as meat shields.
Mid-row like me fared better; the rear was worse.
Some impaled themselves on spiked barricades, blocked from entry; others crushed against wagons and stockades.
Wolves tore from front; structures and allied shields crushed from back.
Despair spread like plague.
No hope in slaying foes—just pray the wolf picked the guy next to you first. Base survival instinct remained.
Huff, huff~
Hot, bloody breath washed over my head.
Looking up, the predator's excited exhale—sure of its prey—slapped my face.
'Shit, no time to check surroundings.'
Thud—! Patter patter!
Blood clots from the wolf's jaws before me dripped from front-line slaves.
My strength failed; I collapsed. Simultaneously, arrows whistled overhead again.
Clank, clang—!
Mechanical twangs from wagon crossbows rang rhythmically.
Whiiiish~ Thud thud thud!
Ironbow arrows skewered wolves—and underlying slaves—like kebabs.
"Help me!!!!"
"You fucking bastards, we're still al—!"
Their wails drowned in soldiers' roars and drumbeats.
Slave welfare meant nothing amid cold orders: "First row, 50 paces straight shot!" "Volley longbows!"
Infantry with three-meter spears advanced behind shields, whistling—adding wolf death cries to the field.
Amid ear-splitting din, only my pounding heart rang clear.
Riiip, shrrk—!
To survive, I crawled the dirt.
"Fuck... dragged here outta nowhere, and I ain't dying like this!"
I bellowed in incomprehensible Korean, clutching my short spear like a lifeline.
Amid death rattles and cheers, I racked my brain for survival.
History-student tactics flashed—grand strategies useless now. Just raw survival hacks.
Thud, thud, thud!
Dodging stamping feet, I crawled, scavenging dead gear.
Grabbed two decent round shields, leather partially torn.
Ripped a dead slave's rags frantically into ropes.
Grind, rip—!
Tied cloth shreds to strap shields to back and chest.
Crude, heavy—but this pathetic shield armor was my sole bulwark.
Also snagged four iron-tipped short spears, belted to waist.
Throwables for hurling; best one gripped for last stand.
"M-Me too!"
"Like that barbarian—grab quick!"
Seeing my getup, nearby slaves frantically looted corpses.
Terror spread like virus; so did survival instinct.
But as they scavenged, rear infantry bellowed "Advance!", shoving us mercilessly toward wolf claws.
Dong dong dong—!
"Enemy cavalry on left and right flanks!"
"They're herding the wolves!!"
"Rear open rear! Vice-General Gong Son-muk charges!!
Thud thud thud—!
Fresh enemy reinforcements stirred the field.
But simultaneously, earth-shaking vibrations rolled in.
Empire's "flame" banner flew; 500 heavy cavalry—horses armored too—emerged.
The modern equivalent of tanks or APCs, 500 heavy cavalry charged in wedge formation.
Kaboom—! Pfshk!
It was a massacre.
Unlike us barely holding with short spears, one cavalry charge routed most of the 500 wolves sweeping slaves.
Blood-soaked warhorses thundering past, staining snow red amid heavy snorts—utterly overwhelming, deflating.
What I saw wasn't human war: bugs crushed between massive machines.
Pffft—!
"Hey, barbarian. Still kicking? Lucky bastard, heh."
The fifth-rank officer appeared, spearing my last wolf dead.
His sneering grin ended it—tension snapped, vision blackened fast.
'I... survived?'
Relief or body's limit? Darkness swallowed me.
Last scents: battlefield blood reek, cold snow touch. I blacked out, collapsing.