Chapter 250

The fundamental factors that determine the outcome of a battle are the number of troops, individual combat abilities, and the overall morale of the army.

Even if a brilliant strategist employs extraordinary tactics to attempt a reversal, at least one of these factors must be met to secure victory.

If you’re outnumbered, morale is low, and the quality of your troops is lacking?

Instead of pondering impossible strategies, it might be better to draft a fancy surrender document.

This time was no different.

—

“For Randenburg!”

Nigel’s spear shot out like an arrow, piercing the necks of enemies one after another.

Though the power might be somewhat lacking, her spear technique had a precision that others could hardly follow.

“The gods are watching over us! Fight with all your might!”

Richard, clad in holy armor, charged like a chariot.

The enemies’ swords bounced off helplessly, and the ensuing barrage of holy spears tore them apart.

“We can’t be pushed back by the easterners! Witness the spirit of the north!”

Duke Pailoon’s knight, Richard, swung his saw-toothed greatsword in all directions.

True to the northerners who rarely use cavalry, his horsemanship was somewhat clumsy, but that didn’t make it a weakness.

The harsh northern climate had forged each knight into a truly resilient warrior.

A dozen cavalrymen, torn to shreds, flew through the air, scattering blood and flesh.

Richard’s sword didn’t just cut through enemies; it ripped them apart brutally.

Even a grazing blow would tear off entire sections of flesh, and entrails caught on the saw-teeth were pulled out like ropes.

Those caught by his hand didn’t die peacefully; they screamed in agony, forced to live through the pain.

Thirteen masters displayed unparalleled martial prowess, dominating the battlefield.

Fighting alone was one thing, but master-level knights charging alongside allies were each worth hundreds of medium cavalry.

The masters of Ernst’s army, who were supposed to stop them, fell like barley at harvest time to a single woman.

“Ahhh!”

The tide of battle turned in an instant.

The exponentially growing disparity in numbers meant Ernst’s troops were now fighting one against five, no, ten enemies.

Of course, that’s impossible.

“How are we supposed to beat these guys?!”

A cavalryman, venting his frustration, was skewered by spears and torn apart.

Within less than ten minutes of the chaotic battle, the screams echoing across the battlefield were only from Ernst’s side.

“We surrender! We surren—”

Before the knight could finish, several swords flew in, dismembering him.

The time to accept surrender had passed. All that remained was annihilation.

The situation was no longer a battle but more like a hunt.

There was no anomaly.

The two thousand medium cavalry that had surged like a wave were shattered like foam.

…The real problem starts now.

“Uwaaaah!”

Despite the annihilation of knights and medium cavalry, the conscript soldiers still charged forward, armed with nothing but a single spear.

Four thousand of them.

It was a human barrier that seemed to fill the horizon.

In reality, it was more like a sandcastle that would crumble at the slightest touch.

Their faces were pale with fear and despair, yet they showed no intention of surrendering.

It was an incomprehensible will to fight.

The reason the rear lords’ troops were advancing was understandable.

If they stayed still, they’d be killed by their own side’s arrows, so they had no choice.

But why were the conscript soldiers at the front, who wouldn’t even be hit by arrows, still trying to fight?

Even though they knew they would die!

…We had to find out why.

Before Leopold gave the attack order.

I ran towards them.

“Medium Cavalry! Return to base! Replenish your lances and regroup! Archers, prepare to fire!”

“Paladins, follow Sir Median! We must stop them!”

Two distinct orders followed.

A moment that starkly highlighted the difference between knights and paladins.

===

The conscript soldiers gathered by Isabella.

Every able-bodied man had been rounded up, so among them were children without even a beard and middle-aged men with graying hair.

Running aimlessly without formation, they were a pitiful sight, hardly deserving to be called soldiers.

Their bodies were clad in nothing but crude padded clothes and hand-me-down, worn-out armor, with only a single spear as their weapon.

The only training they had received was how to thrust a spear forward.

There was no one who valued themselves over family, no one with the mental fortitude to resist a death order.

Those who did had long since been weeded out.

Since they were weeded out.

The remaining ones were no different from slaves bound by the fear of the witch.

Or perhaps they were the kind-hearted ones who valued their family’s safety more than their own lives. But now, it’s impossible to tell.

They ran endlessly towards the field filled with corpses.

With faces full of tears, screaming like banshees.

Their breath reached their throats, their trembling legs seemed ready to give way, but they couldn’t stop.

Those who slowed down even a bit collided with the people behind them, turning into minced meat.

It was impossible to break away to the side and surrender like the cavalry.

The moment they tried to turn sideways, they would immediately be trampled by the crowd.

“Uwaaaaaa!”

A scream resembling the howl of a beast.

Screams beget screams, and the mournful roars of forty thousand shook the world.

It was a horrifying outcry.

—-

When they first advanced, they surely had the intention to save their families.

But by this point, their minds were completely empty.

The battlefield looming close. The fear of death.

Their bodies, struggling even to breathe, were dizzying, robbing them of reason.

Panic.

They ran, forgetting their purpose and losing their sense of reality.

They were like wind-up dolls, only capable of running forward.

Even if they collided with Leopold’s army, they would probably charge with their bodies rather than thrusting their spears.

In front of them, a woman on horseback blocked their path.

They had eyes and ears, so they knew who she was.

The descendant of the Twelve Knights, Median.

The strongest knight on earth who defeated the Empire’s greatest swordsman.

But no one could think of her as a knight.

To the conscript soldiers, who were mere peasants, she didn’t even appear human.

In their eyes, Ai-shan Gi-or was a monster, writhing with blood-red tentacles, exuding a ferocity that seemed ready to burn the entire world.

A massive, pitch-black something, its form unrecognizable.

That was how Ha-shal-leur appeared to the conscript soldiers.

Like a dragon from ancient legends, a calamity that destroys castles, burns cities, and collapses canyons.

Such a thing stood before them.

With the flames of Up-hwa blooming brilliantly.

Crimson flames spread like a curtain.

The hellfire that would melt anything it touched blocked their path.

Even if they had lost their reason and were running towards death, no one would charge into a visible pit of fire.

Avoiding the heat of the flames is an instinct of living beings.

…The problem was, they couldn’t stop running themselves.

The leading conscript soldiers disappeared as if sucked in.

Then the next row, and the next. Like dominoes, the ranks of conscript soldiers collapsed as if self-destructing.

Like lemmings rushing towards a cliff.

They finally stopped only after thousands had been trampled to death.

======[Ha-shal-leur]======

……

It was an utterly gruesome sight.

[ …I told you it was impossible. ]

The idea of using Up-hwa to stop their charge.

There was no other way, so I tried it… but the result was horrifying. Even the approaching holy knights were shocked.

Blood flowed like a river from the thousands of trampled bodies.

Pieces of intestines were scattered across the red river.

The stench was so thick it stung the nose.

Yes, I understood in my head.

That this was the best possible method.

As Hersela said, there was no way to stop a charge of this scale without sacrifice.

In fact, ending with just a few thousand might have been the best outcome.

If we had tried another method and failed to stop them, many more might have died.

But still…

Was this really the best?

…I don’t know.

[ Why are you agonizing? Those trampled to death were doomed anyway. Rather, you should be proud of stopping them with minimal sacrifice. What’s important is what comes next. ]

‘…Right. That’s true.’

Hersela offered comfort that wasn’t quite comfort.

As she said, this is no time to grieve. We’ve stopped them for now, but who knows when they might charge again.

Before that, we need to somehow make them surrender or persuade them.