Chapter 119

Chapter 119 - Desert's Method (4)

Even though they were caught in an ambush and outnumbered, the warriors somehow managed to hold out.

"They are coming over the wagons on that side!"

"Shoot!"

The Rakshasas climbing over the wagons grabbed their faces and fell backward under a barrage of bolts. Blood continuously flowed down from shattered cheekbones and pierced foreheads.

There were many cargo wagons since they were escorting a merchant caravan. The hastily constructed wall from those saved the warriors' lives.

"The wagon decorated with yellow cloth! There will be jars of oil inside it!"

Furthermore, the wagons conveniently contained cargo useful for battle.

"Found them!"

"Brahim! Armand! Throw them!"

The strongest, muscular warriors rushed over at the captain's call.

Tension filled their thick arms, and then the oil jars flew through the air. It was aimed at the area where the Rakshasas were most fiercely attempting a breakthrough.

Crash!

Splash!

The jars shattered, and oil splattered in all directions.

The nearby veterans were preparing torches with quick wit even without the captain's order. There was a reason they had survived rolling around in wars for over ten years.

"Let's show those sons of bitches a taste of heat!"

"Burn them all!"

As several torches dropped onto the oil-covered ground, a wall of flame surged upwards.

"Ghaaaaaaak-!"

Several Rakshasas, swallowed by flames, danced the dance of death, thrashing wildly before collapsing.

The warriors cheered at that satisfying sight. The situation still remained unfavorable, but they had to raise morale and turn the tide even if done this way.

"Matûrz! Matûrz!"

Fox-faced Rakshasas with contorted expressions shrieked. As they were a matrilineal race, it was the females participating in the battle.

"What are those bitches saying?"

"It's obvious what the Sain-folk say in a war. Kill! Advance! Things like that, wouldn't it be?"

Unlike human commanders who issue orders in full sentences, the Sain-folk repetitively gave brief commands consisting of one or two words. It was easy to guess the rough meaning even without knowing their language.

Fwoosh!

Jars flew once more, and a wall of flame surged.

Thud!

Flop!

The nearby Rakshasas wailed while burning in the fire, then collapsed one by one and turned into corpses.

It was not as if their entire bodies were literally roasted by fire, but they had fainted due to their rapidly soaring body temperatures. Some died of shock because the pain was too great.

As all their outer fur burned off, their figures morphed into bodies roughly resembling humans, albeit charred.

"What's this? Was it all just fur?"

"They are skinnier than expected once you burn it all."

As the offensive shrank due to the flames, a brief equilibrium was established, affording them the leisure to crack jokes.

The Rakshasa tribe did not possess iron smelting techniques. Only a few top-ranking individuals could possess weapons or armor captured from humans. That was another reason why the warriors were able to hold out.

The majority used primitive wooden weapons obtained from nature, but they could not be underestimated because of that.

"A path opened up on that side! We need to run right now!"

"Idiot! You'll die if you go!"

A rookie mercenary attempted to flee toward a spot where the encirclement happened to have loosened.

He ran alone, shaking off his fellow comrades trying to stop him, only to hear the rapid sound of something slicing through the wind.

Thwack!

"Cough?"

He grabbed the bamboo spear piecing his abdomen and vomited blood with an expression of disbelief.

About ten meters away, a Rakshasa was just finishing its throwing posture.

Dozens of fox-faces wielding bamboo spears in the same manner glared in their direction around him.

"Raise your shields!"

Dozens of javelins flew in right as the captain's order fell.

Since everyone had sturdy shields, they were able to block without much damage, but the heavy impacts and cracking sounds gave them goosebumps.

Processing bamboo is easy work even without iron smelting techniques. Bamboo spears were the most efficient means of directly converting numbers into destructive power.

Meanwhile, the matriarch of the attacking Rakshasas issued a new directive.

Rumble!

They started holding onto the wagons together as a group and pulling them outwards.

"This is crazy!"

It certainly wasn't an impossible feat. The warriors, however, watched with flabbergasted faces at this ignorant method they would rarely consider.

The difference in numbers was too large to pull it back like a tug-of-war. They couldn't drop their shields and grab the wagons in front of enemies glaring at them, ready to pierce them with bamboo spears at any moment either.

As barricades were removed one by one, hideously grinning fox faces, filled with a craving for human flesh, surrounded them from all directions.

"If I survive today, I will definitely retire."

The warriors' captain mumbled while grinding his teeth.

"Captain. That's the last will mercenaries say the most."

A line said in their final moments by a mercenary who failed to properly grasp the arrival timing of the grim reaper. Everyone laughed hollowly at that. They instinctively felt that death was right around the corner.

* * *

Since Eugene's army consisted entirely of cavalry, their rescue was correspondingly swift.

"Hmm?"

Something caught the senses of a tribal warrior riding his horse on the outskirts of the road. Trusting his intuition, he fired an arrow toward that spot.

Krrk-!

A groan leaked out alongside the faint sound of flesh tearing.

The ears of all the nearby tribal warriors twitched as they reflexively aimed their arrows.

Two Rakshasas lying flat on the ground hurriedly got up and started to run. One was slow because it had an arrow lodged in its shoulder.

"It's a scout!"

"Kill them! Do not miss them under any circumstances!"

No matter how agile the Rakshasas were, escaping from elite horse archers was impossible. They soon tumbled over with their hearts and lungs pierced.

"Excellent work. I will reward you later."

"It was nothing."

At Eugene's praise, the warrior who first discovered them placed his fist on his chest and replied.

"To employ scouts as well, the expression 'monster warlords' truly fits them."

"They are just primitive bastards running on their feet, at the end of the day."

Hind made a bewildered face at their behavior breaking the common knowledge about monsters he learned in knight households.

Rex, on the other hand, snorted as if it was no big deal. Enemies incapable of horseback riding were practically all monkeys by his standards.

Shortly after, a battlefield where brutal combat was taking place came into view. Thanks to cutting off the scouts, the Rakshasas had not yet noticed the newly arrived army.

At that moment, a tall matriarch wearing knight-grade armor and holding a longsword shouted.

Then, the other Rakshasas moved in perfect order, grabbing the wagons erected as a wall and beginning to pull them out.

"Those people will be wiped out soon at this rate."

"Wait a moment."

"Excuse me?"

The subordinates felt puzzled at Eugene's dilly-dallying attitude despite coming to rescue them. Eugene pointed at the bamboo spears stuck in the wagons and the ground instead of answering.

Shields discarded due to being unable to pull out the embedded spears rolled around everywhere as well. It wasn't because a special technique like a pilum was applied, but simply because the power was so strong that they penetrated deeply.

"Everyone, focus on the Rakshasas holding spears at the front."

Eugene possessed no such sense of justice to suggest saving even one more surrounded warrior. Minimizing the damage to his own troops was far more important.

All his men quietly watched the battle from a distance, even as the Samur warriors were dying.

Only after observing the Rakshasas throwing their javelins several times did Eugene raise his hand.

"Did you all see? You can properly estimate their range now, right?"

"Confirmed."

"You were waiting for this."

Nodding, Eugene raised his composite X-bow.

"We will intervene. Keep our distance at least fifty percent further than usual. Ensure you never enter their javelin range."

As Eugene stood at the vanguard, horse archers draped in black cloaks lined up behind him.

"These are bastards with neither armor nor shields anyway."

"We can easily poke holes in them even if we are a bit further away than usual."

"I'll skin those things and sell their pelts in Tripol."

The tribal warriors shouted valiantly.

Hind, a small number of tribal knights, and the heavy cavalry withdrew to the reserves, ready to charge if needed.

"Commence attack! Blow the horn! It is time to engrave the sound of the Blackhand clan's horn into Samur as well!"

At Eugene's command, the horn echoed across the battlefield, and horse hooves shook the earth.

When people think of a cavalry charge, the symbolic image of knights bravely plunging into enemy lines holding spears and swords naturally comes to mind.

Putting destructive power aside, knights riding shoulder to shoulder with gleaming armor possessed a magnificence that made the viewers' hearts pound.

However, a charge accompanying tribal warriors suited Eugene's tastes far better than such things.

Twang, twang, twang!

The sound of countless bowstrings releasing simultaneously.

Swoosh!

The sound of arrows slicing sharply through the wind.

Thwack, thwack, thud!

Even the dull sounds of flesh being pierced everywhere.

It was always a spectacular sight to see dozens of enemies grab their vitals and collapse while suffering zero casualties on their side.

Flustered by the sudden ambush, the matriarch roared. Dozens of javelins flew through the sky.

The range of spears thrown purely by arm strength was obvious, however. Not a single one reached the horse archers maintaining a safe distance.

Twang, twang, twang!

As another volley rained down, Rakshasas bleeding from all directions collapsed.

Those who lacked shields and hastily raised their arms to cover their faces had their cheeks pinned by arrows penetrating through their forearms.

Furious Rakshasas charged forward recklessly, but all they could see were fluttering black cloaks. It was because the tribal warriors had already turned their horses and begun fleeing.

And once again, arrows poking out through the scattering cloaks were fired.

Kyak-!

Kehek-!

"Sir Eugene! Please give the order to charge!"

"No! Wait!"

The tribal knights, including Hind, fretted eagerly, but Eugene rejected the plea.

If the enemies were Orcs, Gnolls, or Goblins, he could have completely crushed them with a forceful charge right about now; the opponents were the Sain-folk, however.

Rakshasas holding bamboo spears still lurked everywhere. Even though the enemies' formation had crumbled, casualties from falling off horses and injuries would occur if they charged right now.

Above all, the enemies were those devoid of armor and shields. There was no need to rely on the breakthrough power of heavy cavalry for a decisive blow.

"Start by taking down the bastards holding spears or trying to pick them up!"

Next to Eugene, who was shooting arrows alongside his subordinates, Homi displayed terrifying rapid fire.

"Crazy!"

"Squire, isn't that cheating?"

While the tribal warriors fired by twisting their waists while riding their horses, Homi was squatting on the horse's back with two feet completely. This allowed her to pour down arrows regardless of the direction the horse was running.

Her long tail moved every moment, touching the horse's back and sides, flawlessly maintaining her balance.

Two quivers were inserted diagonally into her saddle for easy drawing.

Swoosh!

Swish!

Eugene could not hide his admiration at the arrows flying at a rate of almost one per second from his right side.

The young girl who once worried about being alienated from the journey due to lacking knightly training was no more.

There was only a great female warrior fascinating everyone on the battlefield with marksmanship approaching a divine art.

The Samur warriors, who had consistently remained on the defensive, responded to the rescue and began pouring out a fierce counterattack into the flanks of their enemies.

Almost all the spear-wielding individuals had fallen, and the Rakshasa's formation plunged into chaos from the two-sided assault.

Sensing the timing, Eugene issued the charge command.

"Trample them all!"

"We awaited that command!"

As Eugene drew his flail and struck at the vanguard, the heavy cavalry, surging with courage, turned into a wave of iron mass and descended upon the Rakshasas.

Crunch!

Crush!

The Rakshasas who fell forward due to swords and arrows flying from behind were directly trampled by horse hooves.

If their heads were stepped on, their skulls shattered and eyeballs rolled out. If their backs were stepped on, they spat out a grand fountain of blood mixed with organ fragments through their mouths.

Did they judge there was absolutely no chance of winning? As the matriarch's sharp cry rang out, the Rakshasas hastily began retreating.

"Halt pursuit! Halt pursuit! We stop here!"

Eugene spurred Might and blocked the vanguard of allied cavalry.

"We can still fight more!"

"Can't you see those bastards fleeing towards the forest? I do not want to willingly enter their territory. It's not like they're opponents we can get loot from anyway."

"That is true."

The tribal knights' boiling blood cooled down at Eugene's words. Weren't they in a situation where they hadn't even formally signed a contract with the city yet?

Gaining combat experience against the Sain-folk and securing the route heading to Tripol City meant their objectives were already fulfilled. There was no need to take unnecessary risks.

* * *

'The great reputation of the Blackhand mercenaries was truly not an exaggeration.'

Falcão, the captain of the merchant caravan's escorts, was astounded by the rescuing army driving back hundreds of Rakshasas without any casualties.

Considering the physical abilities of the Sain-folk combined with numerous bamboo spears, it was structured so that damage was inevitable even if a knightly order charged.

However, this rescuing army forced immense bleeding by utilizing the advantages of mobility and range to their limits, and then pulverized them with a single charge at the decisive moment.

"Thank you for saving our lives. I am Falcão, the captain of the Ratel mercenary group."

"I am Eugene of the Mayer family. I came to help after hearing about the ambush on my way to Tripol City."

Falcão vividly remembered the knight swinging a massive polearm exclusively at the vanguard, harvesting the heads of the Rakshasas.

"We will depart as soon as the rest of our party lagging behind arrives. It would be best for you to hurry if you intend to collect your wounded or supplies. You will need to leave this place before the sun sets."

"I am aware."

Falcão begrudgingly pulled up his subordinates, who had slumped down here and there.

They had miraculously survived going through a hellish siege. Everyone seemed devoid of strength in their bodies, but they had no leisure to remain relaxed.

"Captain, let us rest just a little bit."

"Anyone who wishes to face the night in this vicinity may do so."

"..."

The subordinates gritted their teeth and stood up while staring at the forest where the Rakshasas had disappeared.

A little while later, people hesitatingly arrived one by one from the road Eugene had raced down.

They opened their eyes wide at the battlefield where a conclusion was reached barely shortly after they departed, and the numerous Rakshasa corpses.

"Oh no, we are ruined!"

The merchants who had fled wept loudly as they looked at their shattered wagons and the mess of a cargo.

"Under normal customs, the Lord holds the right to claim twenty percent of the cargo, but..."

Eugene shook his head at the recruitment officer's words delivered with a troubled face.

"One should at least draw blood from a tick. Even if I take that now, I would only turn their gratitude into resentment after saving them."

"A merciful judgment."

The cargo itself comprised items incapable of generating much money, but their value fell even further after being broken and trampled. Catching mercy, honor, and gratitude definitively was better than taking pennies.

"Damn it. There's really nothing useful here."

Perhaps regretting their lack of spoils, Eugene's subordinates scattered and searched the corpses of the Rakshasas.

"One is still alive over there."

Stab!

"Kuegh-!"

Simultaneously utilizing the opportunity to finish off the bastards that were clinging to life.

"Hey, hey, take a look at this."

"Hmm? What is it?"

Everyone's eyes gathered when an armored soldier flipped over a Rakshasa corpse with his shoe.

A deceased female with an unusually bulging belly. In human terms, it looked to be about seven months along regarding size.

"It's just a monster, at the end of the day."

Nobody felt any sympathy, however. This was because if they looked up, there was the demonically distorted face of the fox tribe.

Unlike other Beastkin, their appearance bore strong traits of a beast. If Eugene's army had been defeated, those sharp teeth would have excitedly torn into human flesh right now.

Corpses with heights akin to mid-teens were also sprawled out here and there. Given the Rakshasas' faster growth compared to humans, their actual ages were likely much younger.

"I wondered why their numbers were so large, but they just dragged along anyone they could get their hands on."

Even if they were classified separately as Sain-folk, monsters were monsters after all. They were bastards completely lacking a distinction between combatants and non-combatants.

"Shhhiek-."

At that moment, a painful groan reached everyone's ears. It was the voice of a surviving Rakshasa.

"Ssssh-."

As the groans continued, nearby mercenaries looked in that direction. A mercenary stood there looking down with a troubled face, holding a sword.

"What are you doing not finishing it off?"

"Well..."

They were not totally green recruits either; everyone was a veteran. The people who gathered with puzzled faces soon understood why.

"Shhwheek-!"

A Rakshasa lay there, presumably trampled by the cavalry, with both legs broken and a large stab wound in its abdomen.

Between the legs of the creature glaring with hatred-filled eyes at the humans surrounding her. Four newly born cubs were tumbling there.

The umbilical cords connecting three cubs attached back to her womb. The fourth one had even crawled out through the mother's stomach that had been split by a sword. As if a cesarean section had been performed.

"..."

"Damn it."

Even the experienced mercenaries frowned, evidently finding this extremely bitter.

The Rakshasa mother continued to make threatening noises and bared her teeth at the intruders.

In the meantime, a fifth cub rolled out from between her legs again.

Stab!

A mercenary who couldn't bear to watch any longer plunged his sword into the mother's heart.

This was because seeing the tremendous reproductive capabilities of the enemies they had to fight told them it wasn't the time to feel something like gloominess.

Even so, he hesitated to stab the cubs that instinctively crawled up onto their mother's breasts, eyes still sealed shut, to suckle milk.

Unlike the adults with their strong beastly features and cunning appearances, they lacked fur and possessed soft flesh, looking far closer to human babies.

"They look just like dog Beastkin babies..."

A mercenary who had been close to a dog Beastkin mercenary in the past muttered. He remembered the babies that had been held in the arms of his retired comrade who had become a father.

Ultimately, it was an escort warrior belonging to the merchant caravan guarding the wagons who stained his hands with blood. He decisively sliced the cubs in a single stroke without a shred of hesitation.

"This is Samur."

He stated, flicking the blood off his blade. The desert and jungle at the edge of the continent constituted a land where one could not survive without embracing ruthlessness.