Chapter 298
Chapter 298
Iron Emperor — Chapter 298
In the end, just as at the start, the soldiers had no choice but to set ladders against the wall and throw grappling hooks so they could climb.
"Aaaagh!"
"Throw every last one of them over!"
The imperial soldiers who somehow managed to climb up were being hurled over the side like sacks of cargo, or toppling back dead with limbs hacked off. Their bodies were being dumped into the gaps of the crumbling wall.
"Empire or whatever, not a single soul is getting past this place!"
A dozen or so figures were slaughtering soldiers with overwhelming ferocity.
Public Marquis's pupils dilated massively as he spotted the man among them brandishing an axe and bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"Why, you— Hailon!"
Sparks flew in Public Marquis's eyes.
Even if they won this battle, assaulting the capital had just been made far more difficult. How could he remain in his right mind when the root cause of it all stood right before him?
Eyes blazing, Public Marquis turned toward the rear and shouted, voice dripping with venom.
"From this moment, any man who pulls back shall find no mercy beneath the swords of the Holy Knight Order!"
"In the name of the Lord God!"
The ranks of Holy Knights in their silver armor shouted as one. Public Marquis, consumed by madness, beheaded a soldier retreating right in front of him, hacked the fallen corpse to pieces, and roared.
"Retreat and you shall face the judgment of heresy! Advance and you shall join the ranks of martyrs! Do not fear death!"
"Whaaaaaa!"
Soaked in blood, Public's eyes had turned crimson. Even his voice came out ragged.
"Be martyred!"
"Be martyred!"
Having dismounted from his horse, Public walked toward the fortress, shouting for martyrdom. Behind him, the Holy Knights formed a single-file column, following Public and echoing the cry for martyrdom.
"Be martyred!"
Along the path where they advanced chanting of martyrdom, everything—friend and foe alike—was left behind as nothing but corpses.
* * *
Hailon's axe swept from left to right as though scouring the wall, and the imperial soldiers who had poked their heads over the parapet plunged to the ground shrieking.
By now, enemy troops were charging in even as spears skewered them.
"What the hell—!"
Hailon glanced around. Everywhere, the situation was the same.
Just moments ago, enemy soldiers would let go and deliberately drop from the wall if it meant dodging a swinging spear.
Now, suddenly, they had turned into deranged lunatics with a compulsion to die atop the wall at any cost— no, into moths throwing themselves into the flame.
"Aaaaaagh!"
"Hap!"
Crack!
It happened again. Even as an axe split a skull open, they screamed but refused absolutely to retreat.
"Aaaargh!"
"Dairon!"
Dairon, who had been enjoying himself acting as Hailon's bodyguard, was now stumbling backward, his belly run through by the spear of an empire soldier consumed by madness. And that was with Dairon's ring-pommel greatsword clearly piercing the enemy's heart.
Be martyred!
"What is that sound?"
Be martyred!
The sound drew gradually nearer.
As if steeped in madness... a voice that sounded hypnotized, chanting eerily. Chanting without a doubt, "Be martyred."
"Wizard, launch a light orb into the sky over there!"
"U-understood."
Hailon stared toward the source of the approaching sound, clutching his pounding heart with one hand.
Whoosh!
The light shot through the darkness, stopped at a single point, then suddenly expanded into a brilliant glow.
What was revealed beneath the bright light.
It was a procession of demons singing martyrdom.
At the front, a man hacking down the stragglers like a madman. Saint... no, Public the Cruel.
And behind him, a single-file column of Holy Knights singing martyrdom just like Public and cutting down any soldier who fell behind.
Driven onward by their song, the empire's soldiers kept flooding into the pit of death. For them, there was no rear.
"Madness."
The scene atop the walls, illuminated by the light orb, was even worse.
Red.
Whose blood was all of this?
Something this brutal and horrific was no longer war.
The war Hailon knew always had some purpose: something to protect, or, if nothing so grand, simply swinging a blade to stay alive.
But right now, for those people, there was nothing but martyrdom.
"Public!"
A cry laden with hatred erupted from Hailon.
Thunk!
"Ghuk!"
A familiar sensation at his waist.
Hailon turned his head and looked down. A common soldier of the Holy Empire, eyes brimming with tears, had driven a blade into his side.
Maybe fifteen to seventeen years old?
Hailon smiled bitterly. Then he used his axe to send the boy's head flying.
This is war, after all...
"General!"
"The general is wounded!"
Cries from his escorts rang out from all around.
Hailon stopped the approaching guards and pulled the blade out. A jet of blood shot upward, but he pulled cloth from a pouch, wadded it up, and bound the wound with another strip.
"Are you all right?!"
"I-I'm fine."
There was no way he was fine after a blade went in and out.
Hailon let out a wry chuckle, realizing that a commander was in a position where he couldn't even say it hurt.
"Are you really all right?"
"Told you not to worry. Relay this to the remaining troops right now. We abandon the wall and fall back to the inner square to form a defensive formation."
At the order to give up the wall even though it was not yet fully overrun, the escorts' eyes flew wide.
"What do you mean? Are you saying we should give up already?!"
Baron Paul burst out from among the guards and raised his voice. But Hailon's powerful hand seized him by the scruff of the neck.
Grab!
"Ghk! Wh-why are you doing this?!"
"I am giving up, just as you said. There's no more war."
Still holding him by the collar, Hailon pointed toward the direction where Public and the Holy Knights were approaching.
"Those madmen...!"
Only then did Baron Paul and the guards seem to realize what was happening around them. Witnessing the scene of madness, none could utter another word.
Hailon released Baron Paul's collar and spoke bleakly.
"Now, even for the sake of our own survival, we're giving up on war..."
"......."
"It's time for a slaughter."
"Slaughter."
Someone reacted sharply to the word slaughter. Hailon spoke again, putting weight into it.
"Because we have to live."
With those final words, he cut down the surging soldiers of the Holy Empire and led the troops toward the clearing inside the fortress.
* * *
"Marquis Public! The top of the wall is finally taken!"
Count Turbes approached the marquis with a bright expression, his whole body drenched in blood from the hard fighting.
"Kh-huh, that's how it should be."
"M-my Lord Marquis..."
Count Turbes recoiled in surprise when Public answered in a voice like scraping metal instead of his usual gracious tone. He had been fighting inside the whole time and had not witnessed their procession of madness.
"A bath in the blood of heretics!"
"Be martyred!"
At Public Marquis's cry, the Holy Knights repeated it and once again closed in with their line of death. But now, perhaps because they had secured the wall, there were no more soldiers dying at their hands.
* * *
"Everyone, listen carefully!"
The remaining personnel numbered about four thousand.
Not a single person was uninjured. But their eyes were all still alive, and every one of them listened intently to Hailon's words.
"Morning will soon arrive. We abandoned the wall so that we could live. I emphasize once more: you must obey my orders absolutely. Shieldbearers to the front!"
"To the front!"
The soldiers bearing shields took up position along the outermost ring. Some held shields taken from imperial soldiers, their own having been shattered.
"Axemen in the gaps and spearmen behind them."
The enemy soldiers surging through the entrance were being cut down by Hailon's escorts, while the remaining troops moved in perfect order at every command to form the defensive formation.
"Archers and wizards will position in the innermost ring. Now listen well. What we are facing is not an enemy army. It is nothing but chunks of meat steeped in madness."
This was not the usual Hailon who seemed like a friendly neighbor. His cold, controlled voice was steadying the soldiers' spirits.
"Do not let your guard down after a single thrust. Stab and cut until the movement stops entirely. Just hold out a little longer. Relief forces will definitely come."
The sound of innumerable footsteps began to echo from the distance.
As Hailon's escorts also joined the defensive formation, soldiers of the Holy Empire began to pour in through the entrance that was pinched tight like the neck of a bottle.
Hailon gave his final order for the decisive last stand.
"Front line, sit!"
"Whoo-aah!"
As the entire front line dropped to seated positions, the archers deep in the interior nocked arrows and drew bowstrings taut.
"Loose!"
The touch of death flew out toward the moths rushing into the flames.
"Everyone, hold on no matter what!"
"Euh-YAAAAAH!"
At Hailon's roar, the remaining troops bellowed in a single voice. And toward them, the martyrs began to pour.
CRASH-CRASH-CRASH!
Enemy soldiers charged bodily into the tightly built wall of shields. Axes, spears, and blades rained down upon them.
Whether they were dead or alive didn't matter. Whatever came in was stabbed and slashed indiscriminately.
The living were hacked until they died, and the dead were hacked until not even the possibility of resurrection remained.
Even so, an enemy soldier with spears driven all over his body foamed at the mouth and swung his own weapon one more time.
Above Pharus Castle, where crimson blood danced wildly, the incomprehensible song continued unabated.
Chapter 99 — O Morning, How Glorious Thou Art
The horses pumped their legs as if mad, and the wagon wheels spun as though about to shatter. The hearts of the soldiers running at the rear pounded so fiercely it would not have been strange if they burst on the spot.
The rising sun.
With the radiant beams of the rising sun at their backs, they raced toward the place reeking of blood.
At the very front, Go Jin-cheon led the column.
"We're almost there! Push on!"
Yeon Hwi-garam's voice of encouragement rang out all the way to the rear of the column.
Partway here, they had left the supplies behind with a separate detachment, emptied every wagon, and were now riding everyone who could fit while making their dash.
When the soldiers running on foot began to tire, they climbed back onto the wagons, while those who got down ran until they in turn grew tired.
Every minute and every second mattered.
There was no such thing as later.
It had to be now.