War of Rage (8)
War of Rage (8)
"The eastern army is doing rather well."
In the standoff with the Kruger forces, separated by a single span of horizon, Rex tugged at his warhorse's reins as it snuffled at the scorched black grain.
"This is practically a textbook example of scorched-earth tactics. We haven't seen a single intact wheat field during the entire march here."
"If the grain had been intact, we'd be preparing for a siege by now."
True to the nature of a warlike dark elf nomad, Rex had once only acknowledged direct combat ability.
But after forming ties with Eugene and fighting through countless battles, he had come to value strategic thinking as well.
The eastern lords, even after being routed and forced into hiding, had continued relaying intelligence through various means.
As a result, they confirmed that the Kruger army did not have enough provisions even to make it through the winter.
In contrast, the southern army had no such worries until spring, and if necessary, could draw upon the reserves stockpiled in the Wandering Castle's cold storage.
"One thing that concerns me is their secret weapon."
"You mean this so-called berserker?"
"They say they feel no pain, howl like beasts, and fight until death. With that, even a mob of common soldiers could easily drag down and kill a knight."
The threat posed by a knight was not solely based on overwhelming martial prowess. The terror of knowing that 'those at the front will certainly die if they stand against him' was just as crucial.
Against warriors who overcame that fear, half of a knight's power was effectively nullified.
"There's bound to be some exaggeration. From the stories, it's half in the realm of sorcery. I don't believe savage barbarians are capable of such things."
"I don't entirely believe it all myself. But the unpredictable must always be guarded against."
"Even if such a secret art truly exists, it doesn't matter."
Rex's sturdy fingers tapped his bow.
"Let's see how close those bastards can get."
If Eugene's army had been centered on infantry and shock cavalry, they would have widened the distance and conducted a delaying action.
But he had the world's finest ranged troops fighting alongside him.
That was the secret to their miraculously light casualties, even after fighting so many varied foes — human, monster, and demon alike.
'Even if they feel no fear or pain, an arrow through the heart or head will still kill them.'
Knights held the sword and spear sacred, regarding bows and crossbows as cowardly weapons.
Eugene, however, held the opposite view. He always made ranged attack the core element of his operations and built everything else around shoring up its weaknesses.
Several more days passed as they slowly advanced. Then, the horizon between the two armies vanished.
"!!!"
"They're in sight."
"Alarm! Sound the alarm!"
Dozens of banners fluttering in the wind, and the black armies beneath them, came into view on both sides.
The civil war that had plunged all of Britannia into chaos was about to meet its end.
* * *
"I heard the new southern count's army was formidable, but this is..."
The vassals of the Kruger family were overawed by the majesty of the forces arrayed across from them.
"It might be best to advise the king to retreat to the fortress, even now."
"If you go and tell him that, I'm sure we'll all cheer you on."
"Hah. The nerve of some people."
Any who dared offer such counsel now would not get off with a mere flogging.
-I am the King of Britannia. Another royal line exists over there, and you tell me to back down? What would become of my prestige then?
Eugene and Varda called themselves a comital house and were treated with the courtesies due a count at all formal functions.
Yet the people of Britannia always saw the shadow of royalty upon them.
And the worth of a royal house was derived from history. Before the name of Philamor, the name Kruger was nothing more than a rootless thug.
King Kruger was well aware of the murmuring about this, from nobles down to serfs.
-I will face them squarely, crush them, and proclaim to all the world that I am the true king.
Thus, Eugene had little reason to feel particularly grateful to the eastern army. Irrespective of whether provisions were plentiful or scarce, the two armies would have contested for supremacy here regardless.
"Dwarves and dark elves? Side by side?"
Even King Kruger, confident as he was in his hegemony, was taken aback.
"Isn't this the first time since the 1st Era? Those sworn enemies..."
His vassals were equally stunned.
Behind the Hammer Brotherhood's wall of steel stood the dark elf archers. The southern army's center was nothing short of an iron fortress.
The elves and dwarves bickered at every turn, yet ironically, their synergy on the battlefield was supreme. It was simply that no one had managed to achieve it since the 1st Era.
* * *
"I'm at ease with the right wing under Baron Lester and the marcher lords, but the left wing is the problem."
"It's deployed thicker than usual, so it'll hold out well enough."
Haind offered Eugene words of reassurance.
Worried by the left wing's lower combat strength, Eugene had issued them a large supply of good shields and long spears.
Even with many green recruits, a dense thicket of spears bristling forward like a hedgehog would not break easily.
"Never mind their skill — I'm just skeptical about how well they'll follow orders. There's nothing more dangerous than allies who won't listen."
Having a wing buckling under pressure and the battle plan going awry was one of the better outcomes. It was just as common for glory-hungry nobles to make rash moves that threw everything into chaos.
"Commanding assembled vassals has always been like that."
"I'm not one to just let it slide because it's always been like that."
If his own direct troops suffered losses because they were swept up in his allies' chaos, Eugene would find it hard to stomach.
"Tell them their numbers are large, so they should rotate ranks frequently to manage the soldiers' fatigue and fear."
"Yes, Your Excellency!"
The messenger who received the order departed for the left wing. Lester could handle the right wing, so Eugene simply raised a thumb in greeting.
The mounted archers led by Rex were positioned a short distance from the main body, preparing to harass the enemy's rear.
"Didn't you say this countless times during the briefing already?"
"I'll be sending another one in five minutes, you know."
"...You really do have a staggering lack of faith."
"If the ranks are that thick, then even if the front line breaks, they'll get tangled up in their own men, buying us time to hold."
The left wing, unaware of this exchange between Eugene and Haind, kept stealing glances at their commander.
Just as Eugene, from atop Might, could survey the entire formation at a glance, the southern army could likewise make out their great lord from anywhere on the field.
"Damn, but that's a reassuring sight."
"If the fight turns against us, His Excellency will come, won't he?"
"Didn't you see that monstrous warhorse charge? Even from hundreds of meters away, he'd arrive in the blink of an eye."
With Britannia's greatest knight as their commander, Eugene's very presence kept the army's morale and courage burning hot.
An hour passed in the standoff, yet neither army moved. Haind licked his lips, dry from tension.
"Will they come at us first?"
"Most likely. We have many dark elves with dark vision on our side. They'll want to fight while it's as bright as possible."
There was no duel of knights before the battle. Eugene suspected what devious scheme King Kruger might attempt, and King Kruger judged that if Eugene took the field, it would only shatter his own army's morale.
"The enemy is advancing!"
At the vanguard of the Central Army, heavy infantry bearing large square shields began their advance. These were nothing like the flimsy shields mercenaries or conscripts had used against them before.
Knowing full well that Eugene possessed overwhelming archer strength, King Kruger had prepared thoroughly.
When Eugene, upon Might, raised his arm, the dark elf longbowmen passed through the dwarves and stood at the front line.
"Archers!"
"Arch-ers!"
"Ar! chers!"
The vassals on the left wing echoed the call, each in their own tone, sending forward their archers bearing yew longbows. They planted their arrows in the ground, then fixed their tense faces forward.
'Will we be able to pierce them?'
They were no greenhorns, so they knew how solid the approaching enemy's defenses were.
As arrows were nocked on every bow, Eugene brought down the Blackout he had raised toward the sky.
Fwooooosh!
No shout of 'Loose!' was needed. The Hell Spirit, whose bond with Eugene had deepened through battle after battle, answered his call.
The massive axe blade cleaved the air, carrying a wave of magical resonance. The archers perceived Eugene's command not just through their ears but through a sensation against their skin.
P-p-p-ping!
The arrows loosed in unison blanketed the sky.
Fweeeeeeee-.
As the chilling sound of tearing air echoed across the battlefield, the knights of the central army also shouted.
"Testudo formation! Testudo formation!"
The great shields clustered tightly together, protecting the soldiers from the raining arrows.
A glint of interest flickered in the dark elf archers' eyes. In all their battles until now, no one had withstood their arrows so effectively.
"Half disengage!"
"Advance!"
The central army's shield wall loosened, and their pace quickened.
"Keep shooting."
Regardless, Eugene brought Blackout down once more.
The order to fire did not strictly need to come from the supreme commander, but displaying this enormous axe had meaning in itself. For both friend and foe.
P-p-p-ping!
Arrows tore across the sky, and once more, the central army met them with the testudo formation.
Even as they repeatedly loosened and re-formed their formation for speed and perfect defense, they left no openings. Their precision was on a completely different level from the rabble they had fought before.
But this time, there was a variable.
Thwack!
"Gahk!"
Soldiers collapsed within the shield wall, bleeding.
"They pierced through?!"
A central army knight looked, incredulous, at a soldier with an arrow through his arm. It was the handiwork of the designated marksmen bearing the Hydra bows.
"Gahk!"
"Ack!"
Additional shield-bearers fell here and there, but the number was not great. The Hydra bows themselves were few, and the shield wall was simply too strong.
"Ka mate!"
At that moment, shamans emerged from the central army's formation and cried out. All of them were stark naked, their entire bodies covered in tattoos.
'Those are... Ophelia's?'
Eugene recalled the elf lady in Samur who had hypnotized the small-folk.
The shamans' tattoos differed in shape from the ones on Ophelia's body. But Eugene, who carried a witch's blood, instinctively sensed that both tattoos originated from the same root.
"Drink! Draw near to the gods' embrace!"
At the shamans' cry, the burly warriors downed the liquid in their gourd bottles in one gulp.
A potent draught that nurtured ferocity and tore down the mind's barriers so that hypnosis might take hold. The Tears of the Fanatic.
The original brew used by vikings had been crude, often causing side effects such as heart attacks.
But the vikings assimilated into central Britannia were different. They had succeeded in refining the drug with the aid of settled peoples' medicine, alchemy, and mages.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Great drums set the battlefield trembling in a steady rhythm. The shamans produced a sound reminiscent of a vocalist's bass.
The distinctive drum rhythm, joined by the resonant bass of nearly twenty voices, created an eerie atmosphere.
"Owooooo!"
As if in answer, the warriors who had drunk the Tears of the Fanatic began to emit bestial howls.
Their grips contorted like a bird of prey's talons poised to strike its quarry. Some clawed wildly at the air, while others raked their own cheeks in self-inflicted wounds.
Kwaang!
Unable to contain his frenzy, one warrior swung his axe at a comrade's shield.
It was not, of course, fratricide or madness. Each man was stimulating his soul in his own way to reach self-hypnosis (Trance).
The Tears of the Fanatic they had ingested granted even the most rational cynic the conviction of a fervent zealot.
"Ooh!"
"Hah!"
"Ooh!"
"Hah!"
The central lords kept time as they roared. The shamans amplified the hypnotic effect, waving their arms in grotesque patterns.
"Gruaaaaaah!"
"Kyaaaaaaaah!"
Before long, the bestial cries the warriors had been howling transformed into something closer to a roar. It was an otherworldly shriek that could not belong to any creature of this world.
"What in the world is that?"
"Mister Copson. A-are those men even human?"
The voices of the conscripted southern longbowmen trembled. The sounds the berserkers in their trance state were making were no mere shouts.
It faintly contained the mystery of beasts within it. The southern soldiers felt as if hundreds of bears were glaring at them and roaring.
"Uwaaaaah!"
"Kyaaaa!"
The berserkers with faces like demons came charging, screaming. Every one of them was clad in full body armor and wielding large two-handed axes.
The enemy heavy infantry at the vanguard had withstood up to the fourth volley without significant damage and were closing in.
"What do you think."
Copson, his face etched with wrinkles, spoke cynically. He was an experienced hunter who had retired after working as a mercenary.
"We're fucked."
* * *
Even as the agitation on the left wing grew, the center and right wing remained unperturbed. They had fought through far too many brutal battlefields to be shaken by this.
"They've come in far enough. Rain a firestorm down upon them."
Homi, who was beside Eugene, stepped onto Sandy's back and stood upright.
Flap! Flap!
She swung a large banner, signaling the troops on standby. Her sense of balance and physical strength allowed her to wield a flag large and long enough for the entire army to see.
Cassandra's female warriors, armed with Staff Slings, rotated their bodies 270 degrees.
"Huaaa!"
"Haat!"
Adding centrifugal force to the strength of their entire bodies, they swung the poles, sending the specially made incendiary pots flying.
"What the fuck?"
"H-hold the line!"
The Central Army knew exactly what would happen if those hit, but their orders required them to maintain the close formation.
Smash!
The pots, hurled with considerable accuracy, struck the shields and shattered cleanly.
"Kuaaack!"
But the flames that spread in an instant were anything but refreshing.
No matter how sturdy a shield wall, it was impossible to block burning oil. The formation shattered immediately as soldiers scattered in every direction like cockroaches.
No matter how well trained the elite soldiers were, they could not keep obeying orders through the searing pain and the smell of their comrades' flesh burning.
"Loose!"
A rain of arrows poured down upon them. Now that the formation had collapsed, the shots took proper effect.
With the heavy sound of flesh being pierced, corpses of the Central Army fell everywhere. But their momentum and numbers were great, so they ultimately succeeded in closing the distance.
"Archers, fall back. Hammer Brotherhood, forward!"
Following the drill they had practiced many times, the dark elves withdrew to the rear. Their places were filled by the glaring dwarf warriors.
"The time has come at last!"
"Let's settle whether a Viking's axe is stronger or a dwarf's hammer!"
Eugene trusted the Hammer Brotherhood, but their opponents were still the renowned descendants of Vikings. He had thus steeled himself for casualties. Yet the result was unexpected.
"Uwaaack!"
The center of the Kruger army was being unilaterally crushed.
Crunch!
Crack!
"M-my foot!"
"My knee!"
The Kruger soldiers collapsed everywhere, clutching their shattered lower bodies.
Dwarves loathed sailing as much as the nomads who feared the sea and called it the 'River of Death.'
Because of this, the warriors of Britannia had no experience fighting against dwarf heavy infantry.
They had almost no idea how to fight dwarf warriors, whose center of gravity and striking point were low despite their tremendous strength.
"Eit!"
A central warrior seized an opening and kicked a dwarf in the chest, but that was a mistake. As if he had kicked a boulder, the dwarf did not budge an inch, and the kicker instead lost his balance.
"Insolent human! You dare kick an elder?"
A military pick came down at once as punishment, punching a hole through his thigh and sending blood spraying.
"Kuaaagh... Hk!"
The warrior, who had collapsed screaming, promptly had a hole punched through his forehead as well and fell silent.
"Damn it! How can little runts like them have this much strength..."
Dwarves, born with the power of the earth, were unmatched among intelligent races in raw strength.
The heavy infantry of the Kruger army, who had underestimated them for their short stature, had to pay a hefty price.
Of course, as it was war, dangerous situations frequently arose for the dwarf warriors as well.
"Globin! No!"
A dwarf decurion who had been struggling against a central knight collapsed after taking an axe to a gap in his armor. But the finishing blow never came.
Puk!
The central knight who had been about to bring his axe down collapsed, looking as if he could not believe the arrow lodged in his own throat.
"Keheok!"
"Ack!"
Arrows, flying just over the helmets of the Hammer Brotherhood, swept through the Central Army's front rank.
The small dwarves and the uniformly tall dark elves. Faced with this combination, the center of the Kruger army was forced into a cowardly fight.
"Hold! Time is on our side! Just hold and we win!"
Meanwhile, the left wing of the southern army was already wavering, despite the pikemen's superior reach and numerical advantage.
Half of the pike shafts had been snapped before the brutal axe-work, and many pikes lay fallen on the ground, dropped from fear and shock.
-Lord Einse is urgently requesting reinforcements at once.
-They've already departed!
-Baron Lance is requesting to rotate with the rear rank!
-Denied! It hasn't even been ten minutes since their last rotation! Tell them to hold!
-Lord Gosbeck has fallen in a one-on-one duel with an enemy knight! His son, Lord Sven, has avenged him and is leading the unit in his stead!
-...
Baron Foster on the left wing was going mad from the situation, where nothing came flying in except requests for reinforcements or tragic news. There was hardly any word of victory to be sent.
Thanks to Eugene's consideration, the left wing's numbers were one and a half times that of the enemy, which allowed them to barely endure through quick rotations.
But even that had reached its limit.
"Keuwaaaaah!"
The screaming berserkers arrived at the front line.
The southern soldiers trembled at the sight of the howling enemies' arms, which were as thick as their own thighs.
Crack!
Crunch!
As shields were shattered by the merciless axe blows, screams of sheer terror erupted.
The pikemen stabbed their spears in tearful desperation, but these too were all broken before the axe blows and failed to pierce the thick armor.
Shnk!
Hope flickered across the face of a pikeman who had, by luck, impaled the abdomen of a berserker with his pike.
"..."
But the berserker, the blood-dripping spear still embedded in his gut, simply stared expressionlessly at the pikeman.
Only rage trickled from the fanatic's lips; there was not a single trace of a groan of pain.
"Hiiik!"
Overwhelmed by that presence, the pikeman was split apart by the axe without being able to put up proper resistance.
All around, the blood-drenched berserkers were collapsing the front line indiscriminately. Even with spear wounds in their abdomens and chests, or multiple arrows stuck in them, none of them so much as blinked.
On the contrary, only their furious roars grew louder. The groans of agony belonged solely to the southern soldiers.
* * *
"Grrrrr."
"Disgusting wretches! Have you even forgotten human speech?"
Baron Lester, having cut down two berserkers and now fighting a third, ground his teeth.
Defending against the Zweihander with his longsword, he caught the other man shifting into a thrust.
'Now!'
Striking down the thrusting blade, Baron Lester swung his fist at the berserker's face. His fist was still wrapped around the sword hilt.
Puk!
The longsword's cross guard gouged out the berserker's left eye.
Being in a frenzy meant he felt no pain, but suddenly losing an eye caused his sense of balance to collapse.
Dodging the wildly flailing axe, Baron Lester's blade tip pierced the berserker's throat.
"Grrrk!"
Yet the baptism of frenzy drove him to keep fighting even with his windpipe severed.
Baron Lester kicked the berserker's shin with his steel-booted foot and brought him crashing down.
Gripping the blade, he wielded the cross guard like a hammer and crushed the berserker's temple.
Thud.
Only then did the corpse topple over, and Baron Lester twisted his face in disgust.
Even the right wing, where the elites were deployed, was having this much trouble. The left wing would likely be shattered by now.
"His Excellency's center army should be supporting the left wing."
Baron Lester, who had been looking toward his liege with worry, gaped.
There, a slaughterhouse unfolded. The only Central Army soldiers still standing on two legs were those fleeing.
* * *
The moment the fanatics, howling like beasts, reached the center, Eugene spurred Might onward.
"Follow me!"
The massive axe he raised high gleamed as it caught the sunlight, and the Wendigo's cloak billowed brilliantly. Behind him, knights pressed kisses to their swords and followed closely.
The berserkers, clad in thick armor and immune to pain and fear, had not flinched even with multiple arrows, spears, and swords embedded in their bodies.
Schunk!
But none of that mattered before an axe blade that cleaved their very bodies in two.
"There's the count!"
"Kill him! Kill him alone and victory is ours!"
Every Central Army soldier nearby charged at Eugene, and they were all swept away like wheat being harvested.
"Descendants of the fanatics! There stands the one who blasphemes your gods!"
A mounted shaman shouted in his characteristic bass tone. Every berserker nearby turned eyes shot with blood toward Eugene.
"Kill that man! Kill him and offer him to the hall of the gods..."
The shaman's heart was pierced by Eugene's javelin, and he flew about ten meters before tumbling across the ground.
"Hammer Brotherhood second rank, rotate with the third rank! The wounded are to leave the battlefield!"
Throughout the fight, Eugene constantly watched the lines and timed each rotation. At the same time, he waited for the moment to break forward himself.
'Is that one the front-line commander?'
The middle-aged man with a mustache, wearing a fine suit of armor, was struck with terror as the massive warhorse came charging in, trampling and crushing soldiers underfoot.
The charge was so swift and ferocious that there was no time to evade.
Boom!
A berserker in the path was struck by Might's forehooves and sent flying past the side of the mustached commander.
'To think a human body could produce such a sound of tearing through the air!'
Goosebumps rose on the commander's skin. Eugene had already reached right before him.
"You wretch! You'll have to strike me down if you wish to harm His Excellency!"
A central knight, a mass of a man nearly two meters tall, swung his halberd and blocked the path, but he could not withstand two exchanges.
On the first exchange, he was forced to one knee. On the second, the knight was bisected along with the halberd he had raised above his head to block.
The great warrior's soul was large enough to be caught in the fangs of the Hell Spirit.
[Kiyaaaaaaa-!]
The scream of the soul being ground to bits echoed across the battlefield. It contained a dreadful terror that could not be heard in the mortal world.
Echoes of agony that resound only in the abyss of the otherworld, unreachable by man.
It was something far heavier and more intense than the anger that had devoured the souls of the berserkers.
"...!"
"!!!"
The light of reason returned to the eyes of the berserkers who had been fighting mad with rage. The frenzy that made them invincible had been washed away by the screaming of the soul.
"Have you come to your senses now?"
Eugene's eyes, which could see through mysteries, perceived that the trance state had been forcibly dispelled.
He could see the mystery of beasts that had clung to the berserkers' souls being driven out. And in its place, terror surging fiercely.
"Euh-heu."
Trembling gazes gathered on Blackout, which made even their own two-handed axes look like toys.
"At least when you die, cry like men."
Eugene's cold voice pressed down upon them.
"Kuaaack!"
When the last Central Army knights with enough fighting spirit to charge were split in half, the Kruger army's vanguard began to rout.
"R-run away!"
Seized by fear and running back the way they had come, they were no longer berserkers mad with rage.
End
ⓒ Gusojae#1wecx