I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Chapter 247: Abyssal Holy War – Final Resistance (6)

Episode 247. Abyssal Holy War – The Final Resistance (6)

A wall of spearheads, filled with an ominous black energy, rapidly approaches.

The sheer sight of the Demonic Cavalry's might is overwhelmingly intimidating.

Our own Cuirassiers drew their swords and began to charge to meet them.

In a head-on charge between lances and swords, the lance has the absolute advantage. …But that’s a tale for battles between humans.

It's obvious at a glance that the lances they carry are no ordinary things. On the other hand, the lances we use are made to be broken, meant only for the clash, so a head-on charge could never be an even fight.

That’s why I judged it would be better to strike them down with swords imbued with mana, and I placed those most skilled with mana at the front.

And just as I thought, those bastards have realized this is a desperate measure.

The enemy heavy cavalry, charging swiftly, are visibly brimming with momentum, their lances pointed forward.

But did they really think I'd bet everything on a desperate measure and engage in a frontal confrontation?"Morelle!"

"Yes! Hyah! Go, go!"

Jerome Morelle and the Chasseurs quickly broke away, beginning to peel off toward the right flank.

The charging demons flinched, and their conversation could be heard unfiltered.

"Captain!"

"What should we do?"

"Ignore them!"

"But if we do, our flank will be..."

It seems that getting flustered by a sudden situation is no different for humans or demons.

I knew it the moment I saw. At least Baal isn't here.

If not here, is he with Gaston?

I did have a separate plan in case Baal was there and we were outmatched, but he needs to do well.

In any case, while they were in disarray, the Chasseurs galloped diagonally and raised their carbines toward the naturally exposed flank.

"Aim— Fire!"

The Chasseurs' carbines fired in unison, and a hail of bullets rained down.

A considerable number were blocked by the demons' magic barriers.

But not all of them could be.

"Kuaargh!"

"Aargh!"

Because the order to ignore them had been given, those who had already exposed their flanks and weren't protected by a magic barrier screamed as they were hit by bullets.

Perhaps because they were demons, however rotten, and heavily armed, fewer than I expected were unhorsed even when hit squarely by bullets.

Still, that was enough.

"Damn it, kill those guys first!"

"What are you talking about? The order was!"

"If our flank is attacked like this, we'll all die anyway!"

The combat power of the Chasseurs and the firing of their carbines aren't much of a threat on their own.

From the front, they couldn't even dream of breaking the demons' magic barriers, and if they got close, they'd be slaughtered in an instant.

But for that very reason, it had managed to get under the demons' skin.

They fundamentally believe they're stronger than us, and they actually possess that power.

Despite that, when was the last time they had any real combat experience? 400 years ago?

Even if the demon race has long lifespans, there can't be many among them who have fought in such a large-scale war.

How good could the organizational power of such guys be?

Furthermore, would such arrogant bastards really have learned any military lessons from watching human wars?

"We'll strike those wretches! Follow me!"

"How dare these inferior beings use such inferior weapons!"

As expected, a significant number of demons willfully turned their horses to follow Jerome Morelle's Chasseurs.

But those guys are heavily armed heavy cavalry, equipped with long lances.

They're a troop type that finds it difficult to change direction even with preparation, so what happens when they move so impulsively?

Some tried to stick to the order and charge forward, others tried to turn and follow the Chasseurs—everyone got mixed up, creating chaos, and naturally, the entire formation's charge speed began to slow.

It's still not enough.

"Imperial Army!"

"Alright, let's go! Go!"

Following Jill von Leonhardt's command, even the Imperial Cavalry turned to the left flank, and the demonic faction fell into utter confusion.

"Wh-what do we do now!"

"Go straight ahead! Just charge!"

"What are you talking about! If we keep going, we'll be hit by a pincer attack from three sides!"

"By Pride! What are these idiots saying now!"

It's a complete mess.

At a glance, it might look like we're also breaking our charge and dividing our forces, but our side had a prior agreement, a clear hierarchy, and are the most experienced soldiers scraped together from the entire continent.

On the other hand, those guys rely only on their racial strength and superiority in equipment, so their discipline is no different from a ragtag army of cannon fodder.

Now that I've caused confusion, I have to seize the momentum here to reduce the sacrifices, even if just by a little!

I gathered my mana and infused it into my sword along with the divine power swirling around my body.

That mad demon Baal did the crazy act of literally cleaving the air, and though it won't be to that extent—

"Haaah!"

As I swung the sword with a kiai, the mana and divine power surging in the blade exploded, washing over the front.

"Kuaargh!"

"H-how can a human—"

Only the five at the very front were cut down. Not very effective for the mana I put in...

But it's more than enough to deepen the confusion of the demons who looked down on us and to boost our momentum.

"Cuirassiers, charge!"

"Waaaaaaaah!"

As the Revolutionary Cavalry began to charge with heightened momentum, the demons became even more flustered and started to rush in individually.

"Eek, just charge!"

"For Baal!"

But with their formation tangled in confusion, unable to do one thing or another, it was a charge by inertia.

The reduced impact force of the charge was one thing...

"Die, inferior races!"

The lances surging with ominous black energy were threatening, but the cavalry, their formation and coordination a complete mess, were essentially being sequentially deployed into a charging formation designed to crush them.

"Th-these bastards... Ku-hak!"

The elite cavalry selected from the Cuirassiers began to hunt the demons, with two or three assigned to each one, one deflecting the lance while another thrust their sword.

"Kraaaaargh!"

Though our attacks were blocked by the demons' magic barriers and our own were pierced by their lances, causing many to fall, the initial charge was, at any rate, almost entirely one-sided in our favor.

"Show these inferior beings our overwhelming power!"

"Support our allies and press the attack!"

And with things as they are, we can leverage our numerical superiority.

The problem is—

"Charge! Strike the flanks of those vermin!"

The Demonic Cavalry that had pursued Jerome Morelle's Chasseurs is now returning.

No matter how strong they are, demons can't possibly catch up to the light cavalry Chasseurs, and Morelle's unit has gone to strike the enemy's center army, so this was bound to happen.

However, the demons who were charging to strike our flank were instead forced into astonishment by the sound of hooves coming from their own flank, and the words pouring from their lips.

"We praise Him—"

"We acclaim Him—"

Lances gleaming brightly with the divine protection of surging holy power.

The Paladin Order may have been mowed down by machine guns, but they weren't annihilated.

In fact, if not for the fact that only enough personnel to obediently follow my orders had survived, it would have been difficult to use them like this, as a reserved trump card.

"Ugh?"

"The Paladin Order?"

The demons were astonished the moment they saw those gleaming lances.

It seems even the ones who treated us with utter contempt as an inferior race are a little scared of divine power, huh?

"Ch-change direction—!"

Even if they tried to turn now, could a heavy cavalryman, clad in heavy armor and armed with a lance, who had been accelerating to strike our flank, really do so?

"May the holiness of the Father be upon us—"

"May His grace raise our spearheads high—"

The faith imbued in the hymn they sing as they charge.

"That we may avenge our brothers!"

The fury simmering within them erupted clearly.

"Kill them all! Our brothers in the embrace of God will be their judgment!"

"A-men! A-men!"

Struck in the flank by the Paladin Order, led by Gardolfo Eramo, the demons began to burn away with terrible screams.

*

At the moment the cavalry engagement on the flanks was at its peak.

The center of the Allied Forces, the Revolutionary Vanguard.

A single sword stroke.

With that one alone, dozens are turned into pieces of flesh that were once human, scattering blood.

Before the soldiers standing beside them could even be terrified by the carnage, another sword stroke flew, and the same horror unfolded again.

Each time the demon's twin swords danced, the soldiers forming the defense line were slaughtered in droves.

"What... is that."

Even General Nicolas Nere, a man second to none in valor, could not hide his astonishment, his eyes wide.

Typically, shock troops are deployed on the flanks to strike the enemy's side.

Using them to strike the battle line from the front is a poor strategy, and striking the main force of the center army, which would possess the greatest stopping power, is the worst possible move.

…That is military common sense.

But what if there is a being for whom military common sense does not even apply?

What if, no matter how many soldiers are in the main force, they can be crushed from the front by overwhelming power?

In that case, do tactics even have any meaning?

"U-uaaah! Stay away!"

The soldiers fire their muskets ceaselessly, but no matter how much their guns spit fire, the overwhelming magic barrier deflects every bullet.

"Grapeshot fire! That monster—"

The artillery commander who tried to stop him with grapeshot fire was cleaved in two, cannon and all, by a sword stroke Baal sent flying through the air.

The demon did not introduce himself.

He simply appeared from among the Drones at some point and began to destroy everything.

And yet, everyone knew at a glance.

The Demon King's Crown on his head, and a martial prowess for which the word "overwhelming" was insufficient.

That he was the hero of the demon race, Pride. Baal of 'Arrogance'.

The Revolutionary Army's battle line, which neither breech-loading rifles, Drones, nor machine guns could break, began to collapse because of a single demon.

Into the defense line torn apart by Baal, his Imperial Guard followed, widening the path.

Each one of them, wrapped in an overwhelming magic barrier that rendered musket bullets meaningless, was massacring the soldiers.

As the Drones began to swarm like a surging tide down the collapsed path, even the sky-high morale of the Revolutionary Army began to break.

"Hi, hii, hiiiik..."

"Do not waver!"

The moment the soldiers, overcome with fear, showed signs of collapse, Nicolas Nere shouted reflexively.

But even he, who had always fearlessly and bravely desired the vanguard, found his head filled with nothing but questions.

Against a monster like that, for whom no troops and no tactics seem to have any meaning, what in the world can be done?

Nicolas Nere stood dumbfounded, watching Baal and his Imperial Guard indifferently slaughtering the soldiers as they rapidly approached him.

An overwhelming power and terror that seemed to be the very embodiment of death itself.

Amidst the sense of helplessness that came naturally to a human, Nicolas Nere swallowed dryly.

Should I retreat?

Nere, who had thought that unconsciously, ground his teeth.

He knows nothing of the grand cause of the Revolution.

He had no interest in freedom, equality, or fraternity.

He fought for the one to whom he had dedicated his loyalty.

For the peerless genius who would lead the Francia Army, which had fallen into chaos amidst the corrupt Old Regime and the turmoil of the Revolution.

However.

—I pledged my loyalty to Commander Valliant. To now swear loyalty to His Excellency the Marquis is...

—When did I ever ask you to be loyal to me? Even those who were originally my subordinates probably wouldn't be loyal to me, would they?

Nicolas Nere let out an empty laugh at the memory that surfaced at such a moment.

—You have no need to be loyal to me. As Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary Army, I demand only one thing from you. Will you fight to protect your motherland as a soldier of the Revolution, or not?

—A soldier must, of course, fight to protect his motherland...

A retreat on this battlefield is not a simple retreat.

The defeat that would follow is not the defeat of a single battle, but the worst possible end.

The moment he realized that, Nicolas Nere roared forward.

"Revolutionary Army, hold your position!"

All eyes turned to him.

The moment he was sure of it, he took another step forward and cried out.

"Every minute, every second you hold on now will bring us victory! Nicolas Nere is here! Your general is here with you! Do not retreat an inch!"

Baal, who had been swinging his sword with an indifferent face as if simply crushing insects, fixed his gaze on him for the first time.

Those eerie, pupil-less eyes.

Instead of faltering upon meeting those eyes, Nicolas Nere drew his sword.

Hmph—

The demon sneered.

The being pulled his sword back, and his arm muscles swelled.

Nere recognized it as the preparatory stance for launching that horrifying sword stroke he had seen so many times.

Nevertheless, he took another step forward.

And, in that moment.

"Al-ardho—"

A giant shadow and a thunderous shout passed over his head—

"Akbar!"

Followed immediately by a chorus that shook the entire encampment.

CRASH!

With an impact sound like a cannon blast, a giant figure slammed down and struck the ground.

"Hm. For an inferior life form, you're somewhat useful. Indeed, I thought I'd caught you off guard, but you were prepared."

Murmured Baal, who had blocked the downward-swinging axe with his twin swords—

Kroxx bared his fangs and replied ferociously.

"Finally, the time has come to avenge my brothers' grudge."