Chapter 584: Act 331 – The Battle of Saintly White XV
What is this? Magic? All the frontline commanders of the Northern Allied Forces were astonished enough to stop all their actions, but no one, including Viscount Von Dogen, had reacted yet. Successive flashes had already erupted one after another within the Brule infantry battalion.
Boom! Boom! Boom! A storm of explosions instantly enveloped the entire frontline. The Brule infantry were encountering landmines for the first time on the battlefield of Vaunte, a terrifying weapon of death. The disintegrating crystals, shallowly buried beneath the grass, released all their latent energy upon impact; the terrible shock not only uprooted the grass but directly struck the infantry above.
The iron shoes of the Brule infantry were deformed under the impact, causing bones to break violently upwards along with their owners; the breastplates instantly caved in, pulverizing everything inside, be it bones or internal organs.
After five or six infantrymen were launched into the air, most of them came crashing down as cold, lifeless corpses.
In an instant, the Brule infantry battalion lost nearly one-fifth of its combat strength. But the more severe blow was to their morale—they had yet to engage the enemy and were already facing catastrophe. The cheering among the Northern Allies seemingly choked to a halt like a duck grasped by the throat upon witnessing this scene.
“This… is what you created from those magic furnaces?” Princess Grifian observed from a distance, silently calculating in her heart: “The core value of the magic conduction devices is substantial, but those crystals don’t seem very cost-effective in terms of lethality. Nonetheless, investing without considering the cost on a crucial battlefield can indeed yield remarkable results.”
Brendel nodded. To be honest, both he and Antinna had not slept a wink that night due to this. Finally, because the number was simply overwhelming, Antinna alone could not handle such a massive workload, and he had to activate a large blood ritual alchemy array to assist.
For that, he had sacrificed quite a bit of blood.
However, he noted the expression on the half-elf princess’s face and could roughly guess her thoughts. But he didn’t mind; at this moment, this was not the full power of the disintegrating crystals—the best was yet to come. He didn’t create these disintegrating crystals just to use them as landmines.
He turned back, looking at the battlefield from a distance. The explosions continued, and a land dragoon perished in this round of blasts as a disintegrating crystal blew off his ground dragon’s right foot, throwing him off its back. This poor fellow broke his spine in the process and died on the spot.
“Stop! Stop!” Viscount Von Dogen was startled as well; he quickly tightened his reins and shouted, “It’s a trap!”
But this viscount was undoubtedly deserving of his historical reputation; he immediately found a solution. He ordered the Brule infantry to halt and spread out, then continue advancing in skirmish formation—this skirmishing tactic had existed since the Year of Celestial Conjunction (1st. 321) when Earl Atania led the White Lion Infantry against the concentrated arrow fire of the lionmen, and even earlier, the Cruz had employed a similar tactic, so it was not exactly a novel invention—however, he applied it here, catching the Northern commanders’ attention.
“No wonder he’s a genius from the Union.” Viscount Finn couldn’t help but compliment near Earl Victorkin. The earl himself was quite pleased; at least it proved his choice was not a mistake, and having a discerning eye is a virtue of nobility.
But before his words had finished, as if to contradict him, the battlefield erupted in an even brighter flash. The violent explosions coalesced into a single wave, shaking the entire valley.
Viscount Von Dogen gaped at everything happening before him; the fierce explosions tore up the grass, sending blood-soaked dirt swirling around him like a rain of mud. He wiped his face, the sticky sensation bothering him. In his mind, the princess’s side had barely had half a night to set up their defenses and lay traps—where was that much time? He believed they were just bluffing, trying to buy time.
But to his surprise, he had miscalculated slightly; Brendel’s “traps” were not as complicated as he imagined. In fact, he and Antinna had merely taken some leftover scraps and casually made them, tossing them into the grass.
Yet these haphazard creations were bringing significant trouble to the Northern Allies.
Brendel watched as the Brule infantry halted once more, feeling a wave of secret delight. There were no international conventions in this world; he could use any type of landmine he wanted, and he felt no psychological burden at all. Furthermore, this killing device was making its debut on the battlefield, indeed yielding unimaginable results.
If the Northern Allied Forces wanted to continue pushing forward, they would have to pay a severe price. The true role of the landmines was to deter enemy morale; losing one or two troops before even contacting the enemy was an ominous sign in this fantasy world of Vaunte.
Of course, they could take their time and clear the mines. After all, he and Antinna didn’t bury those disintegrating crystals too deep; they could still be found with some careful searching. However, that suited him just fine—he wasn’t pressed for time, and it would be best if this battle dragged on for a week or half a month; by then, the battlefield would no longer be under the Northern nobles’ control.
However, the Northern Allies obviously understood this and were not planning to give Brendel that chance. After a brief pause, Viscount Von Dogen commanded the Brule infantry to move forward again, still in skirmish formation.
This was purely filling the pit with lives—
The Brule infantry immediately stirred restlessly, but it was quickly suppressed. Viscount Von Dogen coldly ordered his cavalry to kill a few disobedient soldiers, after which the infantry began to move forward reluctantly once more.
At this moment, the heroic rallying shout of “I shall hold the spear first, you must follow me to victory! Long live Erluin! Long live the King!” had turned into a ready-made joke, and morale plummeted.
Viscount Von Dogen glared fiercely northward, his expression dark as iron.
Yet nonetheless, the Northern Allies finally began to push forward again. Amidst the booms of explosions, the Brule infantry were continuously losing men. Eventually, these disciplined troops could no longer hold and broke down; the lower-ranking soldiers cried out, desperately wanting to retreat, but the glinting spears still drove them forward.
This scene reminded Brendel of the Cruz Empire driving their slave soldiers into battle. However, the Cruz drove their enemies and captives, while the Erluin today was driving their own compatriots.
He watched this scene coldly.
Behind him, Princess Grifian tightly bit her lip.
The first Brule infantry battalion finally collapsed utterly, or was completely doomed; this battalion not only lost its organization but also its spirit. Everyone understood this; the future Brule battalion would likely no longer recognize the title of the first infantry battalion.
That would be a nightmare lingering in everyone’s minds.
But this nightmare was still ongoing. Viscount Von Dogen replaced it with the second battalion, and in that moment, the young man seemed to become a cold reaper guarding victory, mercilessly filling lives into this preordained triumph. All he needed was the final result.
As for the sacrifices, they were merely a number now.
The advance of the Northern Allies finally showed results; the second Brule infantry battalion came within just a mile of Brendel’s main position. Behind them, the Northern Allied main forces began to advance as well. Brendel could even see the cavalry mobilizing in the back.
However, at this moment, the advancing Brule infantry encountered a devastating counterattack.
Everyone heard a ‘whoosh’ as if the air had been evacuated, darkening the sky. Viscount Von Dogen instinctively looked up and saw a dark rain of arrows rising over Machinko Mountain and Villeco Mountain, pouring down upon them. The advancing Brule second infantry battalion seemed to hit an invisible wall, and their neatly formed ranks immediately collapsed in several places.
“Finally, we engaged the enemy!” A surge of excitement flashed through Viscount Von Dogen’s heart. He quickly turned and shouted, “Order the Highland infantry to attack Villeco Mountain immediately. Seize that mountain top! Brule infantry, continue pushing forward!”
The knights behind him immediately raised their flags.
On the other side of the river valley, a flag was also raised. Viscount Finn took a glance and rode forward amid a circle of knights, a fellow knight raised a horn and sounded it.
The distant sound of the horn resounded throughout the valley.
The Highland infantry of Finn’s battalion began to break away from the main formation; thousands of gray-clad infantry swept across the rocky riverbed like a flood—before them, the light infantry of Brule had already ‘paved’ a safe path for them—allowing them to charge unimpeded towards Villeco Mountain.
Unfortunately, the attack was not as smooth as expected.
As the second Highland infantry battalion had just entered the dark pine forest, they heard a hissing shout from within the woods: “Sarko—!” If they understood the Naga language, they would have realized the meaning of this phrase.
“Throw—!”
Saneer opened his mouth, the shrill shout pierced through the woods. The Naga warriors hidden in the pine forest had already seen the human figures reflected in their yellow eyes, uniformly raising their spears, and flung them downwards.
A chorus of screams echoed through the woods.
The seventh squad of the second Highland infantry battalion, leading the charge, was almost entirely covered by this wave of spears. The centurion, Sir Raphael, was killed on the spot, with only about a third of the one hundred fifty infantrymen surviving.
“Airm!” Saneer immediately commanded his kin to lower their spears, as the Naga honor guard simultaneously leveled their spears, with the front three rows forming an iron jungle.
The third, fourth, and ninth squads of Highland infantry had already crossed past their comrades; centurion Brode and his colleagues were overseeing the battle in person. As soon as he saw the weapons in the hands of the gray fin Naga warriors, he realized something was wrong—crescent-shaped spears, Naga honor guard! But by this time, retreat was already too late; everyone could only watch helplessly as the two different races’ armies collided.
A synchronized dull thud echoed, like the sound of spears piercing chain mail. Brode instinctively looked up and saw the first row of Black Blade Legion soldiers get thrown back, colliding against rocks or getting caught up in tree branches.
The Naga honor guard pressed forward, breaking through the lines of the Highland infantry like thin paper; the third-tier troops displayed overpowering strength against the first-tier forces. Brode saw the Naga honor guard clear away the human soldiers in front of them almost instantaneously, while the rear ranks of Naga were in synchronized motions taking out their second short spears.
This was the last image he would ever see.
…
The forest lay in shambles, filled with the bodies of human soldiers nailed to the ground.
Saneer looked up. Brendel had probably informed him about the composition of the Black Blade Legion. Currently, they had shattered nearly half of the human battalion, but that was enough.
“Collect the bodies of our kin, clean the battlefield, we retreat!” He immediately issued orders to all his subordinates in the Naga language. Brendel did not intend to get too entangled with the Black Blade Legion over these two mountains; the Royal Knights Academy’s officers had originally planned to turn this into a meat grinder, but in his view, engaging in such a battle was truly not cost-efficient.
However, could relinquishing these two mountain tops really secure the central position?
A hint of doubt flickered in Saneer’s yellow vertical pupils.
When Viscount Finn arrived at Villeco Mountain, he beheld this hellish sight. Within a mere quarter of an hour, the second Highland infantry battalion had lost a full five squads and four centurions—he had not faced such a dire loss even when surrounded by the lionmen at Toas.
Moreover, though that knight captain had vowed they had ultimately shattered the enemy—the gray fin Naga—after an arduous battle to seize this mountain top; Finn was not a fool and could clearly see that the Naga had retreated voluntarily; otherwise, how could his men have not recovered a single body?
Never mind that.
The viscount grit his teeth; completing the task was all that mattered. He wouldn’t actively go to Earl Victorkin for punishment over these trivial reasons. “Immediately clean the battlefield and report our victory to Earl Victorkin!” Finn ordered sternly.
He couldn’t help but lift his head, looking at the center of the battlefield, feeling a sense of unease creeping up on him. This battle was too strange. Why had the Naga chosen to abandon the high ground voluntarily?
And on the other side of Machinko Mountain, a similar scene was unfolding. Baron Konstantin could scarcely believe as he watched the ‘pseudo-White Lion Legion’ and the young officers ride off, nearly obliterating his battalion.
“They’re retreating?”
“Is it Martha above, are you protecting us from the skies?”
“Thank the heavens…!” Baron Konstantin collapsed to the ground, nearly in tears.
Viscount Von Dogen quickly received the news of Machinko Mountain and Villeco Mountain being captured. At that moment, he finally breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Although he encountered some trouble, victory was finally within reach.
“It seems the Princess intends to give up the southern high ground, attracting the main force of the League to attack the central position? Hoping to cover the flanks? No, this must be to lure them in… Truly arrogant.”
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind, but his gaze gradually became feverish and warlike. However, since the princess dared to expose her weakness, how could they let such an opportunity pass? The enemy foolishly believed their central position to be impregnable, but Viscount Von Dogen did not think that Earl Ouding’s private troops could be relied upon.
“A single blow to crush their fantasies.”
He raised his spear.
The horn sounded long.
…
The wailing of the horn echoed once more. The Northern Allies ceased their layered advance; instead, they seemed to have mobilized entirely. With both Machinko Mountain and Villeco Mountain falling to the enemy, they could finally fully deploy from the front.
With enemies approaching from three sides, Earl Victorkin finally committed over four battalions of troops all at once. The dark mass roared like a flood sweeping over the hills, but this flood surged upstream, launching an all-out attack from the riverbanks, creek, forests, and fields.
Banners flew high in the wind, and the scattered explosions of disintegrating crystals were quickly drowned in the ocean of soldiers.
At this moment, everyone’s faces turned pale; the enemy was simply too numerous. After losing Machinko Mountain and Villeco Mountain, whether the central position could withstand the pincer attack from three sides was a question with no doubt in the answer.
Could they rely solely on those private troops?
Brendel finally showed signs of concern on his face. He was not worried about whether his plan would go awry, but rather whether the private troops under Earl Ouding could withstand the immense psychological pressure. If they collapsed at the first touch, it would all be over. But he had only this one chance, and he had to lure the enemy’s main force here.
“Hang on—”
Brendel internally shouted but instinctively drew his sword. Despite not having engaged yet, he already felt the noble private troops’ formation beginning to crumble; he could wait no longer, and he had to stabilize morale. He held the Sword of the Earth high; the ‘Grip of Bahamut’ on his arm transformed just like it did in the game, perfectly merging with his sky-blue armor. The metallic gauntlet resembled the claw of a blue dragon, exuding a majestic aura.
Behind him—
In the archers’ position on the hillside, the noble archers had finally received the command. They simultaneously drew arrows from their quivers and nocked them onto their longbows—each arrowhead was replaced with shiny gray crystals.
Beth watched these longbowmen, unable to shake her head, slower to act and their forms unstandardized. These noble private troops were utterly useless, and there were too few of them; over a thousand archers, nearly half of whom were ‘temporarily transferred’, could these people really make a difference?
She had her doubts.
However, the commander himself had said straightforwardly that as long as they could shoot arrows into the enemy ranks, it would be enough. Beth looked at the dense mass of the allied troops below and thought this shouldn’t be too difficult; it hardly required aiming.
“Ready—”
She too raised her shale longbow.
“Fire—!”
……(To be continued. If you like this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your votes, your support is my greatest motivation.)
