novelraw Chapter 227: Abyssal Holy War - Continent's Barrier (3)
Chapter 227: Abyssal Holy War - Continent's Barrier (3)
Chapter 227. Abyssal Holy War - Continent's Barrier (3)
Center Army, the main force of the Francia Revolutionary Army.
"Urrah!"
As Nicolas Nere struck with the butt of his musket, the head of the Drone he hit broke off and flew spectacularly into the air.
"Don't fall back, Revolutionary Army! Defend the formation with your lives!"
"Yes, sir!"
Spurred on by his thunderous shout, the Revolutionary Army's Line Infantry surged with momentum, thrusting their bayonets, aiming for the Drones' heads.
Among them were Drones that penetrated the center of the Line Infantry, felling several Revolutionary Army soldiers in an instant, but when a woman in black clothes somersaulted with an agile movement and drove her dagger into its head, it collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
"By order of the 7th Confidant, Shandra! Aid the King's brother!"
"For the King!""Al-ardho Akbar!"
"Waaaggghhhh!"
Soon, massive Orcs began to charge, showing off their valor by sending Drones that tried to break through or penetrate their square formation flying.
As the Revolutionary Army and the army of Iberica built up momentum and broke through.
"Those muscle-brains are sticking out too far! Too much valor is poison! Tell that Nere general to fall back and get below the trench line!"
In the rear, Damien De Millbeau was busily issuing orders as he watched Nere's vanguard.
"Draw them all into the trench line to fight! If it's going to be melee combat anyway, it's better to be where the rockets can't hit!"
"Understood!"
The staff officer had just run off with the orders when Giselle Davi burst in.
"Commander Millbeau, Your Excellency!"
"What is it, Lieutenant Colonel Davi!"
"The 7th Regiment is being pushed back! We need reinforcements!"
"Aaargh, this is driving me crazy! Deploy the 9th Regiment!"
"Understood, Commander, Your Excellency!"
As Giselle Davi ran out, Demian glared at the map with bloodshot eyes.
It was Giselle Davi, of all people, so her assessment of the unit's situation must be accurate. The reinforcements were necessary.
However, the reserve units he could use were already being rapidly depleted.
He had no sense of time because of that damn purple sky, but his pocket watch showed that about 12 hours had passed since the battle began.
A fight between the tireless, endless Drones and humans who eventually tired and ran out of stamina.
This was completely different from a battle that ends when the exhausted side retreats.
Pierre de Lafayette had strictly limited the deployment of reserve units, saying they must not commit all forces, in order to preserve stamina through rotations.
Demian understood the reason in his head, but the situation forced him to face these monsters—which seemed overwhelming even with all his forces—with limited troops and a tight margin.
Easy for him to say!
In the end, Demian tore at his hair and screamed.
"Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have come here!"
Not that he had a choice, anyway.
In any case, nothing good ever comes from getting involved with that Lafayette fellow!
*
Left Flank, Germania Imperial Army encampment.
"Hah!"
The man once known as Gilles de Lionel.
Jill von Leonhardt sent a Drone's head flying with a single sword stroke and charged forward, cutting down more Drones in succession.
The extremely efficient, concise movements of a superior knight, contrasted with his flamboyant military uniform and cape, captivated all eyes in an instant.
"Hoo..."
Jill let out a light sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Then he looked back at the Imperial Army soldiers who, until a moment ago, had been in crisis and were now standing awkwardly.
"Th-thank you, General Leonhardt."
"It's nothing. Get yourselves together."
A general's uniform and cape are a bit restrictive, but they certainly draw attention. A worthwhile inconvenience.
Jill cut down another Drone rushing from behind and flicked his sword clean.
Jill raised his sharp sword and shouted.
"I am with you! Fight resolutely!"
"Waaaahhh!"
"L-long live General Leonhardt!"
"Long live the Imperial Army!"
The Imperial Army, which had been on the verge of collapse just moments ago, raised a roar with renewed vigor, firing at the charging Drones and thrusting their bayonets.
Jill smirked.
He may have led the military reforms of the Germania Imperial Army and accepted the position of Commander-in-Chief for the expedition, but in the end, those reforms were just imitations of the so-called Revolutionary Army and Krafte Army systems, slightly modified to fit the Imperial Army.
It was just that the Imperial Army was in such a mess that even that had a significant effect.
In any case, the command ability of the excellent young officers raised by that reformed military system was no different from his own, so he was out fighting on the front line.
There were those who were concerned, but no one tried to stop him.
Because everyone on this battlefield had either experienced firsthand or heard of the legendary performance of Pierre de Lafayette, the seemingly reckless Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary Army.
The influence of a Commander-in-Chief who fights alongside his soldiers on the front line without sparing himself, and who has the skill to back it up, can dominate the front.
Above all.
Having lived for a long time as a knight and a mercenary, this was more comfortable for him.
Jill casually turned his gaze to the front line of the Revolutionary Army, which held the center.
Even though the attacks were clearly concentrated there, they were holding out well, with reserve units being appropriately deployed wherever they seemed precarious.
Jill smirked.
Truly, Damien De Millbeau, renowned as the ‘Master of Defense’ and the ‘Guardian of Dilrus’.
He was pathetic in the meeting, but now that he's in a real battle, he's managing to get it all done somehow.
When he was the Acting Lord next door, he was just a petty man who got whipped by the Saintess Queen while trying to raid the Lionel fief, but now he's somehow become one of the continent's renowned commanders.
"How time flies."
Speaking aloud, Jill burst into laughter without realizing it.
Then again, he too had never imagined he would become the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army and fight alongside his old enemies.
Gilles de Lionel recalled Pierre de Lafayette, his mortal enemy and, at the same time, the object of his admiration.
The image of him chatting with Pierre as the lord of a neighboring fief, the image of Pierre showing only his back as he broke through the enemy position while Jill was a mercenary and a member of the Revolutionary Army.
And even the image of him burning with a fighting spirit bordering on obsession, refusing to give up even when faced with unavoidable death.
Jill re-gripped his sword and stepped back onto the battlefield where the Imperial Army was fighting for its life.
He had told Pierre de Lafayette that he would be watching him.
He had declared that he would punish him if he were to eventually fall to corruption.
In that case, both Gilles de Lionel and Jill von Leonhardt...
...must be qualified enough not to be shamed before him.
'I do the best I can.'
Knight, mercenary, and foreign general.
The man who had lived a tumultuous life charged forth, intending to embroider the battlefield with the sword that had been with him his entire life.
*
Right Flank, the Krafte Army's encampment.
The acrid battle smoke from the black powder unique to muskets was thick enough to fill the battlefield, but the sound of gunshots never ceased.
"13th Line Infantry Regiment, commence retreating fire! 6th Light Infantry Regiment, provide cover!"
"Fire!"
Rat-a-tat-tat-
As the muskets fired in unison, the charging Drones fell in droves, and the infantry who had finished firing immediately fell back to begin reloading.
Simultaneously, the next line fired and retreated again, and even the Drones that rushed into the gap were methodically picked off by the scattered light infantry with aimed shots.
Unlike the Revolutionary Army and the Germania Army, which had already entered melee combat, the Krafte Army was strictly maintaining a gunfight.
General Scharnhorst watched the spectacle from atop his horse on a hill.
The Krafte Army, once called humanity's most elite and powerful military, had been defeated and had collapsed.
The Orcs of the Iberian Brotherhood possessed a prowess in melee combat and breakthrough power that they couldn't dare to match.
They didn't possess an overwhelming cavalry like the Revolutionary Army, nor did they have a knight who boasted absurd valor like Marquis Lafayette.
Nor did they have the same sheer numbers as the Germania Imperial Army.
However.
Nevertheless, they had a doctrine they prided themselves on as being superior to that of any other nation.
A doctrine reformulated by the countless generals and officers of the Army General Staff, who put their heads together to find the most efficient way to operate the army, even if each individual soldier wasn't the strongest.
If the first row fails, the second row takes over. If the second row fails, the third. And if even that doesn't work, the light infantry steps in.
This fluid, harmonious movement, like a musical performance, was only possible because they were them, because they were the Krafte Army.
Whizz-
Whistle-
Rockets, once again making noise as they flew in from the fog, struck the encampment, and screams erupted.
But the Krafte Army was not just taking it.
"Transmit coordinates!"
The moment General Gneisenau's order fell, the men stationed next to each battery, who were staring into the fog, immediately transmitted it to the Artillery Corps and—
"Adjust elevation, left 13, estimated range 700!"
"Elevation adjustment complete!"
Each battery adjusted their cannon's elevation to the angle and range received from their designated Schützen and looked to their general.
"Counter-bombardment, commence!"
"Fire!"
"Feuer!"
On General Gneisenau's nodded command, the Krafte Army's artillery pieces spewed fire in unison.
This was on a different level from the sort of counter-bombardment fired based on guesswork just to suppress enemy firepower.
This was the result of the Schützen—the most famous skirmishers and snipers on the Central Continent, possessing superhuman eyesight and concentration—mobilizing their naked eyes and telescopes to pierce through the fog and catch the tiny glint of light from the rockets within.
It was a counterattack based on estimated coordinates, possible only for the Krafte Army, which operated the most skilled and systematic Artillery Corps on the Central Continent.
And as a result, the number of rockets pouring down on the Krafte Army's left flank was indeed steadily decreasing.
"However, General. If we keep firing like this, our ammunition consumption..."
To his chief staff officer's suggestion, General Scharnhorst replied with a wicked smile.
"Ah, don't worry about that. Our great rival, His Excellency Marquis Pierre de Lafayette, said the supplies were fully stocked and told us to use them as we please."
It's not their money anyway, so if there are supplies, isn't it enough to achieve victory by pouring everything we have?
"Yes, I understand!"
Marquis Lafayette might clutch the back of his neck when he finds out after the battle that the Krafte Army was responsible for half the total ammunition consumption, but...
Anyway, as long as we win, we win.
"Do not tarnish the name of the Krafte Kingdom's army, my men! Bring out everything you have and offer victory to His Majesty Heinrich!"
"Jawohl!"
*
On the earth stained purple, the battle continued for over a day.
On the earth where the sun had completely set and even the purple light had faded, the battle continued under the torches lit by the Allied Forces.
Even in the morning, when a chilling dampness from the thick fog made one's body tremble, the battle went on without cease.
However.
That was all.
They were relentlessly driving the Drones forward and launching rocket bombardments.
Even then, once the continued rocket bombardment allowed us to roughly predict their range and impact area, and a proper counterattack began, centered on the Krafte Army's artillery, even their rocket bombardments became increasingly infrequent.
Just endless Drones rushing in ceaselessly, waging a constant war of attrition, with the occasional surprise deployment of a machine gun.
Even those were dealt with by artillery fire as soon as our skirmishers spotted them with their hawk-like eyes, or if it was urgent, I would ride out myself and snipe them with my bow, so the sacrifices from machine guns were fewer than I'd feared.
"It's time for the rotation, Your Excellency the Marquis."
I was sitting, warming myself by a bonfire, when I looked up at Gaston, his armor completely covered in blood, and spoke.
"You've worked hard, Gaston. Rest for a while, even if it's brief."
"Haha, my wife is fighting on the front line. How could I say I've had it hard?"
Right, Shandra was rampaging on the front line.
I let out a small laugh.
"Right, then I suppose it's about time I head out again..."
As I picked up the sword I had set beside me and stood up, Gaston looked at me for a moment and asked.
"Are you tired, Your Excellency the Marquis?"
"Well, a little. More than that, the situation is weighing on my mind."
The war situation isn't that bad.
The Drones swarming in day and night are certainly overwhelming, but since this was a fight against Drones from the start, we anticipated this and are fighting in rotations, having divided our forces.
Even so, with a fight raging right in front, it's hard for the soldiers in the rear to rest easy. The burden on the units deployed to the front is also heavy.
Still, we can avoid a situation where we deploy all our units to the front from the very beginning, only to have them fall one by one, exhausted from days of continuous battle.
It's a fight to protect the gate, anyway. We just have to hold out until then, so if we continue like this, there shouldn't be a problem.
It's not like there haven't been precarious moments, but each time, Gaston and I lead the cavalry and the Paladin Order out to smash them, buying time for our allied forces to regroup.
"We've been holding on somehow until now, but..."
Hearing Gaston's words, I shook my head.
"There's no way it'll end just like this."
The opponent is Paimon. A cunning and crafty demon who has lived several times longer than I have.
There's definitely some move, something even I would find difficult to imagine.
The moment I thought that.
I felt a vibration from underfoot.
"Your Excellency the Marquis!"
"I felt it too!"
A vibration.
Rhythmic and mechanical.
A vibration.
A feeling similar to the thud- thud- of the Drones moving in unison, in step...
A vibration.
...from underfoot?
A vibration.
The enemy is Drones. Puppets that need no sustenance or rest, moving only on Paimon's command.
This is their island.
If so, they could have prepared this in advance.
Don't tell me—
The moment I thought that, parts of the ground bulged up here and there in the darkness.
Another vibration.
A mechanical and rhythmic vibration, and the ground bulging up a little more.
I immediately gathered all the mana I could and shouted.
"All troops, wake up! It's an enemy attack! The enemy is underground!"
Along with the vibration, tens, hundreds, no, thousands of hands burst up through the dirt ground all at once.