Chapter 284

Chapter 284 - Time of the Decisive Battle (2)

The monster composite bows used by the Rangers had stronger tension than the existing Elven longbows.

Of course, due to the limits of the shooter's physical ability and the arrow's weight, the power fell far short of a ballista. However, the longbow arrows were superior to the ballista in ballistic stability and range efficiency.

"Arrows on the flank!"

The ballista drivers reflexively raised their shields, but their faces soon hardened. Because they intuited that it was not an ordinary attack just from the altitude, trajectory, and piercing sound of the fiercely flying arrows.

Moreover, one more thing.

"Wait a minute. What's that color?"

"It's Devil's Tongue!"

The Shadow Legion had also frequently used fire in missions like siege warfare, exterminating man-eating slime colonies, and Troll hunting. They could immediately distinguish between an ordinary fire arrow wrapped in oil cloth and a fire arrow sparked by an alchemical catalyst.

'I have to dodge.'

The driver holding the face shield knew instinctively he had to dodge. However, the sense of duty instilled by countless training sessions and camaraderie prevented him from leaving his spot. The ones who saved him were the veterans.

"What are you doing, retard!"

"Dodge!"

Bam! As they kicked their backs, the young drivers fell forward, and the others dodged on their own. Immediately after, arrows fell on the ballistae they were operating.

Shatter!

With a sound like breaking pottery, the bursting catalyst reacted with the outer flames. The fire spread as if being painted on in an instant.

There were also several who tried to protect the ballistae with a strong military spirit, but the results were horrific.

"Heuaaaaaah!"

Because the flames that slid over the shields dug into their arms, chests, and necks.

"Get down! I said get down!"

"Damn it! It won't go out!"

Those around them tried hard to save their comrades rolling in pain, but it was useless.

"Ah, hot!"

Instead, trying to extinguish the fire only resulted in more victims catching fire. When an auxiliary soldier wailed with burning hands, the veterans fOrcefully pinned him down.

Squeeze!

"Ouch! It hurrrtsss!"

While one pinned the screaming subordinate, another diligently covered his hands with dirt. In a situation where they couldn't submerge them in water, this was the most effective countermeasure.

"This is top-grade catalyst."

"Catalyst or not, it's incredible accuracy. Not a single arrow stuck in the bare ground."

The ballistae that took direct hits already had fire spreading all over their wooden bodies. The veteran auxiliary troops ground their teeth at those flames.

Paaaaang!

"Here they come again!"

"Don't block it! Everyone dodge!"

The terror of burning pain was too great to endure with military spirit alone.

"What are you doing! Protect the ballistae!"

A centurion and his adjuncts pressed the artillerymen and stepped forward directly holding shields. They were commanders with the mindset deeply rooted that superiors should lead by example in such matters.

Fwooooosh!

"Kuaaaaaak!"

"Save me!"

And even they became human candles and rolled on the ground, so no one tried to block them after that.

"No arrows missed this time either."

An old auxiliary soldier muttered as if fed up. Even if a ballista was a large target, hitting it from that distance was by no means an easy feat.

"Counter-fire!"

"It's out of range!"

"It must be an illusion! Then how are those bastards shooting us? Just fire!"

The few remaining ballistae and legion shooters fired arrows at the location where the Rangers were, but not a single shot reached them.

"Unquenchable fire is scarce. Set your targets carefully. Even if it looks like it's burning wildly, if the bowstaves or torsion springs are intact, you must confirm the kill."

Homi's cold voice harbored mystery. It wasn't just a voice but seeped into the Rangers' minds as an image.

It was easily overlooked because she usually preferred to remain a squire and mainly handled beasts, but this was the reason Homi possessed talent as a commander.

Being able to always clearly implant her voice into her subordinates in a chaotic and urgent battlefield. There are few abilities more excellent than this as a commander.

The continuously pouring fire arrows turned the ballistae into roasts without much interference.

* * *

With the artillery incapacitated, it transitioned into a full-scale melee of steel against steel. The Imperial faction's left and right wings, meant to support the Shadow Legion in the center, also joined the battlefield.

"Fight with all your might! If we lose here, the efforts of the past few years will all turn to bubbles!"

Taking charge of the left wing were Imperial faction lords and various mercenary groups. The latter, especially, craved the southern territories themselves as much as the silver coins.

In a sense, the creditors had been devoured by the debtors' debts. Having invested too much and tasted ruling as lords, albeit briefly. They couldn't possibly give up at this point.

"Long live the Emperor!"

"Win your freedom through this battle!"

The right wing consisted of Gaius's direct fOrces and gladiators from the Colosseum. They were additional fOrces brought in with the promise of slave emancipation and loot in the name of the Emperor.

Facing them, the allied fOrces' center was the Western Army led by Duke Leray. The right wing was the Southern Army rebuilt by Duke Robert, and the left wing was composed of mercenaries from Gord, Samur, and the peninsula.

"With the ballistae gone, there's no way we can lose. Did everyone get it? We win if three of us beat up just one guy."

"That motherfucker Gaius bet all his stakes on this battle! If we just win this, the damn war is over!"

The allied nobles were getting so frustrated just calling the Emperor by his name that they started appending curses as suffixes.

The 6 groups clashed almost simultaneously. Various armors and weapons tangled chaotically, and curses in various languages erupted.

"Samur monkey bastards! Why did you crawl all the way here?!"

"To make money, you piece of shit. Why else would mercenaries come?"

On the allied left wing, a Roman-made longsword and a Samur scimitar locked tightly and entered a contest of strength.

Screeech.

Even while the unpleasant sound of metal scraping metal continued, the Roman mercenary kept up his racial slurs. If he had been a little calmer, he would have noticed the Samur mercenary's adam's apple contracting.

"Ptooey!"

"Aargh!"

A large glob of phlegm accurately struck the Roman mercenary's eye. He had another eye, but any warrior would inevitably panic when their vision suddenly narrowed.

Thwack!

And on the battlefield, that brief opening decided life and death.

"Heuryaaaa!"

A little further away, bulky Gord warriors were swinging terrifying great axes.

Crack!

"M-My shield..."

The axe itself was an item made for splitting wood. Facing the Gord warriors, the Imperial fOrces were appalled by their shields splitting apart after blocking just a few hits.

"D-Don't come near! I said don't come near!"

"Oho! Where are you running away to? Come here. I'll give you a hug."

Gord was unrivaled in individual physical prowess compared to any nation on the continent. Ordinary infantry simply couldn't withstand them in a contest of weight classes.

Thwip!

In the meantime, light infantry with blowdarts in their mouths roamed around, sticking poison darts into the skin of the Imperial fOrces.

"Ah, stinging!"

"What the? Goblins?"

The blowdart light infantry were so small that the Imperial mercenaries were flustered. They were a Samur ethnic minority with an average height of 140cm, yet they utilized combat techniques similar to the vicious Smallfolk.

"These rat-like bastards!"

It was maddening that they roamed around without even wearing armor, backstabbing those engaged in combat.

However, they weren't having an easy fight either. A Dwarf roaming around shooting blowdarts was impaled by someone's trident.

"Kuhiik-!"

"Hahaha! He really dies making a Goblin-like sound?"

The owner of the trident was a gladiator. They were the ones who had fought lions, wolves, and all sorts of monsters in the Colosseum. They were accustomed to fighting bizarre enemies.

The gladiators wearing unique mask-type helmets handled all sorts of weapons, but those scattering nets with blades attached were particularly threatening.

"Aaaaaargh!"

Because they exerted absolute power against low-ranking mercenaries or conscripts who weren't properly equipped with armor. The attacks flying in as an area couldn't be dodged, and the moment they tried to block them, their entire bodies were gouged out.

"Here is Gamba of 8 consecutive wins!"

"Heng! I'm at 13 consecutive wins!"

"Shut up, all of you! I've knocked down 30 noble ladies in the capital!"

Gladiators swinging chains with sickles or wielding halberds laughed heartily and swept away the enemies.

The allied left wing was a chaotic jungle where various weapons and warriors tangled. Both sides were taut, making it hard to determine superiority.

"Your Highness the Duke! Viscount Fermand is requesting a line replacement!"

On the other hand, Duke Leray was surrounded by a hail of messengers, losing his hair in real time.

"Replacement when it hasn't even been 3 minutes since they were deployed? Are you kidding me? Tell him to grit his teeth and hold out longer!"

"The captain of the Stone Fist Mercenary Group has died in battle. The vice-captain took over command, but he says the unit is completely out of control. Please permit a retreat..."

"Denied! There's no way an elite fOrce like them would fall into confusion just because one captain died. He's making an excuse to run away, so ignore it. Tell him I will punish him staking my honor if he retreats."

Even though the ballistae were gone, the 6,000 legionaries were intact without much damage, and the thousands of combat-oriented auxiliary troops backing them up were also full of vitality.

Numerically, Leray's center was nearly three times larger, but they were being pushed back everywhere in the center.

"Move! I said move!"

"Only death awaits in retreat!"

Thwack!

"Urgh... S-Son of a bitch..."

Currently, the number of people summarily executed while trying to flee from the noble faction's center was easily over 50. The balance was barely maintained because they were pushing their allies mercilessly.

Meanwhile, the allied right wing composed of southern nobles was surprisingly overwhelming the Imperial faction.

-Did you think weaving togAAether utterly crushed defeated soldiers would amount to any strength? The moment we charge, they'll collapse instantly.

-Your words are correct, Sir! It has been said since ancient times that it is darkest just before dawn! Although they oppress us with numbers, our swords will overcome this! Let us strike them down and claim their territories!

The Imperial left wing, which had inwardly rejoiced thinking they got easy enemies, was greatly panicked.

"D-Did these bastards eat something wrong?!"

Because not only the knights but even the conscripts lunged at them like they had rabies.

"Bastards I will tear to death! Give me back my grandmother!"

"I will avenge my older brother!"

The anger of the southerners who had their homes destroyed and lost their families and neighbors. It was the best weapon and armor.

"Sons of bitches! If you covet wealth, just loot! Why set fires?!"

A head of a household whose rabbit-like children all caught lung disease after being kicked out onto the streets in winter poured out his resentment.

Puuuuu.

At that moment, hundreds of black cloaks fluttered along with the sound of the advance trumpet from the Imperial army.

The Black Knights assigned to the Shadow Legion. The strongest knight order in Roman, fluttering black cloaks, stepped forward to tear into the allied fOrces' flank.

* * *

Banners fluttered from the lances of the Black Knights. They bore the symbols of their respective families, the religious orders they believed in, and the knightly houses where they received education and knighthood.

"Black Knights! The Black Knights are coming!"

"Immediately tell our allied knights to prepare to sortie!"

Duke Leray, tensely on edge, sent a messenger.

'What was bound to come has finally come.'

Hundreds!

There were hundreds of officially knighted knights alone!

Including squires and men-at-arms cavalry, the number easily exceeded 1,500. Although the horses weren't even galloping yet, the vibration was terrifying since they were all heavy cavalry.

"All knights are on standby."

The reporting messenger's voice was also trembling. The allied fOrces weren't lacking in cavalry numbers, but they were inferior in skill, experience, and equipment.

But they too had hope. Duke Leray and numerous allied nobles looked in one direction. Eugene was there.

The Dark Elves dissolved the anti-ballista evasion formation, lined up in their usual linear formation, and were aiming for their next prey.

"We must stop the knight bastards' approach. Fire continuously at maximum speed without worrying about muscle fatigue."

Squeeeak.

At Eugene's command, the Elven longbows aimed at the sky. In front of them, stationary quivers were placed diagonally for easy drawing.

-Sticking arrows into the ground one by one is a hassle too. Wouldn't it be convenient if we could fix the quivers worn on the back directly to the ground? Adding a function to tilt them at a comfortable angle for the shooter to draw.

-Ooh! That is a truly excellent idea. But by what mechanism does it work?

-That's for you to figure out, Walker.

-???

Anyway, if you grind technicians, results always come out. That was the current standard quiver of the Blackhand Tribe.

"Unlimited firing commences starting from ready shooters!"

Paaaaang!

As Eugene swung his sword, countless arrows cleaved the sky and flew.

Clink, clank.

Clip, clop.

The Black Knights advanced silently without shouts or commands. But being human, they couldn't help but look up at the sky.

Wheeeeee.

1,000 arrows soaring with an ominous noise. They approached like a flock of starving man-eating birds.

Wheeeeeeosh!!!

The annoying piercing sound quickly intensified as the rain of arrows struck the Black Knights.

Ting!

Thwack-thwack-thwack.

Thump! Thump!

The sound of hail falling on iron plates rang out loudly. The knights wore transitional armor, and the squires and men-at-arms were wrapped in plate-reinfOrced coats of plates, so they endured it quite well.

However, those hit in armor joints or between helmets screamed and fell from their horses.

Puhihihing-!

Kkihihing-!

The damage to the warhorses was particularly severe. There were more without barding than with, and even if they wore it, it was impossible to cover the entire body like a human.

Hihihihing-!

In pain and fear, the warhorses wailed and reared their front legs everywhere.

"N-No..."

Crunch!

A certain squire who fell after being hit by an arrow unluckily got his head crushed under a warhorse's front hoof.

Paaaaang!

With a cheerful sound, arrows soared again.

"They're firing again already?"

The Black Knights panicked at the rate of fire exceeding common sense. Britannia longbowmen could temporarily fire up to 10 shots per minute, but the Dark Elf archers were easily capable of 15 or more.

Thwack-thwack-thwack!

"Aaaargh!"

More screams echoed than during the first volley. Moreover, the warhorses terrified by the first volley clamored during the second, colliding with each other or falling over.

"The enemies' range and rate of fire are extraordinary!"

"This won't do! Let's charge immediately!"

"Blow the trumpet!"

Along with the trumpet sound for the charge, the Black Knights who had been maintaining a brisk pace urgently increased their speed.

Paaaaang!

Matching that advance, the 3rd volley flew in.

Thump!

Smash!

Thwack!

Much greater damage occurred than before. This was because the speed of the galloping warhorses granted greater destructive power to the arrows. Iron-plated breastplates or greaves deflected the arrows, but areas wrapped in chainmail were pierced in one hit.

However, the knights shouted even louder and bravely charged, pointing their swords and lances.

"Roman Invicta!"

At the vanguard Black Knight's shout, those following behind chanted the eternal slogan as if in a chorus.

"Roman does not belong only to you!"

"Roman Invicta!"

In response, the allied knights also shouted the same slogan and counter-charged.

'What a gruesome civil war.'

Eugene realized the reality of this fratricidal war through this majestic sight.

"Yiyaaaaah!"

"Uwaaaaaah!"

30m.

20m.

10m.

5m.

3m.

The knights of both armies could clearly see everything in front of them. The lances and swords aimed at each other, the teeth and expressions of the enemy knights exhaling rough breaths, even their bloodshot eyes.

"Keuk!"

"Keoheok!"

"Buwek!"

Sounds of bursting leather bags, slaughtering pigs, and tearing flesh echoed everywhere as cavalrymen fell.

"Keuuu."

A Black Knight who fell but avoided a fatal wound stood up trembling.

"Die!"

An allied knight who had similarly fallen was running towards him, so he had to stand up quickly to survive.

Clang!

As their swords clashed, one of the Black Knight's knees gave out. Because his cruciate ligament had ruptured when he fell, rendering him unable to walk.

Clang!

After exchanging one more sword strike, the Black Knight fell backward. As the allied knight raised his sword for the final blow, despair filled the Black Knight's eyes.

Bbeo-eong!

Then a man-at-arms who appeared driving a horse from somewhere pierced the allied knight with a spear.

"...!"

The knight with wide-open eyes couldn't move. In the posture of raising his sword with both hands, he had become a spear skewer from armpit to armpit.

Thud.

The knight, who had dropped to his knees helplessly, slowly fell sideways. In the midst of that, the 2nd and 3rd waves of cavalrymen charged at each other, and the sound of breaking bones filled the air.

"Uweeeek!"

A certain fallen knight vomited blood grandly and then fell face down, unable to rise.

"Drag them down!"

As a melee ensued, those who had lost their horses grabbed the riding knights and dropped them to the ground. Everywhere, dismounted knights engaged in wrestling, continuing a desperate fight.

A knight who tripped the opponent's leg to knock them down and then drove a sword into their armpit.

A knight who took mount position and thrust a dagger through the helmet's eye slit.

A knight swinging a morning star or military pickax and wildly striking anything without such finesse.

"Aaaaaah."

A certain allied squire in a state of panic crawled between the legs of warhorses to avoid the swords and spears viciously targeting him. Or he played dead.

"Take your dirty hands off!"

The mounted knights continuously struck down their swords at the dirt-covered enemies trying to drag them down. This wasn't even swordsmanship anymore.

Numerous spears surrounded them from all directions, making it confusing whAAether they belonged to enemies targeting them or allies trying to protect them.

Executing proper swordsmanship was absurd, and the outcome was being decided by armor defense, stamina, and reflexes.

"Crush them!"

Some Black Knights riding powerful bloodline horses made their horses spin in place.

Hihihihing-!

"Aaargh!"

"W-Wait..."

As the warhorses standing side by side in the melee drew semicircles with their torsos and rumps, the dismounted allied fOrces fell like dominoes.

Crack!

Well-trained horses delivered back kicks, turning the allied knights into bloody pulps.

"Trample!"

Before the fallen allied fOrces could even rise, the Black Knights' warhorses trampled them mercilessly. This was close-quarters equestrianism passed down by the nomadic tribes who had joined the Shadow Legion in the past.

Naturally, the allied fOrces didn't stay still either.

"In your dreams!"

"Stab its belly!"

The warhorses that raised their front legs to trample harder fell sideways with their abdomens slashed to ribbons by the dismounted knights.

Paaaaang!

Even while this was happening, the Dark Elf archers' arrows continued to pour down. This was the driving fOrce allowing the allied knights to fight on equal terms.

"Aaargh!"

"Stick to the enemies! That way you won't get hit by arrows!"

The rain of arrows fOrced the Black Knights to be unable to use the battlefield broadly. Organic formation changes, swordsmanship, and line replacements were all blocked, leaving only a dogfight.

Unable to properly utilize their swordsmanship and equestrianism, the allied cavalry with greater numbers managed to hold out somehow.

* * *

"Rex. You take command from here on."

Eugene, watching the mess, cracked his neck and stepped forward.

"Is there a need for you to step in, Sir Knight? Even if left alone, they might annihilate each other, but they won't lose."

Grrr-!

Might, wanting to taste the joy of the battlefield, glared at Rex in dissatisfaction. Eugene laughed and patted him.

"It's troublesome if Roman's strength weakens too much. Think of the pillaging by the nomadic kingdoms or the uprising of the pagan army last time. In such crises, where else are the friends who will step up to fight more than Roman?"

"Mmm..."

It's someone else's fight, but it's not someone else's world. As a human being, Eugene hoped this civil war would end soon.

It was true that Roman was an arrogant and problematic country. However, he couldn't think of any other nation that could act as the shield of civilization in their stead.