Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The heavy double-headed axe swung down with a vicious wind, splitting the shield and the man's hand in two. Then, the spinning axe blade severed three heads in a single blow, the blood spurting out staining half of his body red.

The soldier, whose thigh had been severed in half, screamed and fell to the ground. Then, a heavy iron boot stomped on his neck, snapping it. His final scream was cut short, like a chicken with its neck broken.

The chainmail protecting his body was easily torn apart, and half of his body, shoulder, and arm were covered in sticky, hot blood as he rolled to the ground, where he lost his last breath in the chaotic trampling.

The chaotic and ferocious swords scraped sparks against his scales, at most bending the plates before failing to achieve their goal. Each of his strikes destroyed shields, severed limbs, and brought forth naked, gleaming blood, effortlessly exchanging the lives of his enemies in a completely unreasonable manner.

The legion's soldiers were in high spirits, cheering wildly as they pounded their shields and brandished their weapons. Following the vanguard, they swiftly routed the chaotic enemy forces, capturing wall after wall and tower after tower from their grasp. Their armor soon lost its shine, and their weapons ceased to gleam, instead being covered by a thick layer of blood.

The fiercest and most powerful among them were the soldiers wielding heavy weapons. Their movements were also the simplest: under the cover of their comrades and shields, they would raise and lower their weapons, retract and thrust, retract and thrust, reaping enemy lives with mechanical movements, chopping bones, severing limbs, and efficiently smashing heads in this crowded and narrow space.

This was the most brutal and bloody meat grinder. Even elite heavily armored soldiers could be killed in the blink of an eye if they were not careful. The imperial soldiers' reckless and fierce offensive, while terrifying to the enemy, also caused them to suffer increasing losses. But fortunately, this was only temporary. As more walls and areas were captured and more imperial troops were deployed to the front lines, the defenders began to retreat step by step until they were driven off the walls in despair.

Arka let out a heavy breath, his whole body slightly unsteady. The hot sweat seeping from inside his helmet soaked through the lining, and the double-edged long axe in his hand was so slippery from being soaked in blood that it would have almost slipped in his hand if it weren't for the leather-wrapped handle.

The defenders' morale finally collapsed, and more imperial troops were entering the city... They would then spend some time clearing out the remaining enemies and preparing for the enemy's counterattack.

He frowned and gripped a sharp arrow lodged in his shoulder—an arrow fired from a heavy crossbow that had shattered the armor at a weak point and was almost piercing his joint, bringing with it terrible pain. He hesitated slightly, then gave up.

It shouldn't hurt the bones... I made this judgment based on my own experience, and stood up and took a deep breath.

"This is still the simplest..."

Let me organize my thoughts today.

The author needs to carefully plan the next developments. They're a bit dissatisfied with the previous arrangements and want to thoroughly conceive the upcoming war sections. The overall situation also needs careful consideration. Taking a break today T^T

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Chapter 326 Second Line (2)

All he needed was courage and loyalty—this had always been Alka's belief. He wouldn't allow himself to think about anything else; his role was simply to protect that adult, and he asked for nothing more.

Therefore, he never considered things like commanding troops; that was not his concern. His job was simply to protect the flag and the commander. His task was the simplest and most important.

That's why he never realized he would feel so lost and helpless when it came to commanding an army...

He had enough experience, enough knowledge, and enough determination... He knew that if he were determined to command an army, he could do a pretty good job, at least without making any mistakes, but deep down he felt that this was not his duty.

He wanted to decline, since there was no shortage of experienced commanders in the army, but the man told him that a commander was qualified as long as he could prevent the troops from making any mistakes, and that he could not be just a standard-bearer and guard captain forever; he had higher expectations for him.

So he eventually came here with Marcus, arriving at this crucial place on a large ship—if they could control this place, the formidable Assele army, which had been holding the southeast valley, would instantly become a lion with a noose around its neck. They would split and fall into chaos amidst fear, hesitation, and doubt, and then be wiped out by the iron hooves of the empire.

This was a pre-arranged plan, requiring no personal wisdom from him. The tasks and difficulties were all clear at a glance... but the pressure he had to bear was equally unimaginable.

They appeared to be a dangerous and deadly dagger held to the enemy's neck, but they were also putting themselves in an extremely dangerous position. If the Asel people mobilized their reinforcements in time, or if their frontline troops failed to destroy the Asel army's defenses in time, they would be in a very dangerous situation.

Therefore, they had to be fast, steady, and without any mistakes. They had to achieve their goals in a very short time. That's why he couldn't tolerate the slightest disadvantage on the front line and personally went into battle to break through the enemy's formation. Marcus acquiesced to his actions because they had no time to waste and had to do everything they could.

He was as good at it as ever, and he did it beautifully as ever. Watching the fleeing enemies and the gradually falling city, Arka pressed his blood-stained battle axe against the city wall bricks and looked up at the northern sky.

The mission is half accomplished. The next step is to hold this position firmly, like a mountain blocking a river or a chopping board for meat, to hold back the enemy and prepare for the decisive blow from the northern army.

"Come on, all of you, come on, die here..."

He lifted the blood-soaked axe, the thick, sticky blood clinging to the soles of his boots, leaving a red footprint with every step. Meanwhile, below the city, the legion had already begun its mobilization.

........................

"It's time to close the net."

Thesolius put away the parchment he was presented with, and calmly uttered these words, while his advisors standing behind him frowned slightly in confusion:

"But sir, the detachment has not yet sent any clear news of capturing the city... Wouldn't launching an attack at this time be too reckless?"

"Perhaps we can wait a while longer, and it would be more prudent to advance after we have definite news?"

“Then it will be too late.” Tersolius did not turn around, but simply waved to the side, and immediately a guard went to relay the order:

"Two days have passed since this letter was sent, which is the fastest speed a ship can travel. I believe that the city is now in their hands. We cannot hesitate. The commander of the Assele is not an incompetent man. Delay will only lead to unforeseen changes. We must act immediately without any mistakes!"

Once the order was officially issued, everyone had no more hesitation or doubt and went to arrange and deploy according to their duties. In the blink of an eye, only Tersolius, his personal guards, and a few others, including Tarina, remained on the hillside.

"Get a good rest tonight, Doctor, and you two too. For a long time to come, we won't have the chance to set up camp for an extended period. Once the army launches its attack, there will be no turning back. We must keep moving forward and completely crush them."

Tersolius’s voice remained calm and composed, like an unchanging mountain rock... but Colin noticed that his hands were gripping the fence tightly in front of him, his fingers tearing off bits of the remaining cedar bark, and his shoulders were as hard as iron.

This led her to a conjecture that surprised even herself, a conjecture she almost thought was an illusion:

"My lord... are you... are you nervous?"

As soon as she said it, even she found it absurd—how could Thesolius, who hadn't panicked even in that near-death situation, be panicked now that he commanded tens of thousands of troops? It was his enemies who should be fearing and confused!

For a moment, she even felt a pang of regret, feeling like she had done something foolish again, and right in front of him...

Just as Colin was feeling uncertain, a calm voice came from in front of them:

"Yes, I am nervous."

The voice was so calm, as if admitting to a friend that one had just eaten lunch, without any extra emotion, only a sense of routine that had become commonplace over time.

That's why they didn't even react immediately, and even pondered its meaning for a while before being overwhelmed by surprise.

"...I think I misheard something...Doctor?"

Karila scratched her ears in confusion, while also trying to find a small stick to probe them. Upon seeing Talina, she instinctively looked to her for answers.

After her initial surprise, Tarina quickly calmed down and, after a moment's thought, spoke:

"Sir, are you worried about Marcus and the others?"

This time, Thesolius paused slightly, then nodded gently with his back to them:

“That’s right, and it’s not just the two of them, but also the 2 troops. I am genuinely worried about them…”

"Their position is of utmost importance. If the Aselans can mobilize reinforcements in time, or if their navy breaks through our blockade, Alka and his men will be surrounded... I don't regret sending them, and they certainly have the capability, but ultimately, I can't help but worry about it..."

"Of course, this worry is just a bit of whining... After all, I can't completely control my emotions. Even if I know I've made the right decision, I'll still hesitate a little, but I won't show it to others."

"After all, it's the Aselians who should be fearful and confused now. They have far more to consider than I do. My worries are actually a luxury of ease... How could they possibly expect such a thing?"

Thesolius took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs. After three breaths, his eyes became cold and calm, like two pieces of obsidian in winter.

"If nothing unexpected happens, Samir, the father of our prisoner and commander of the Assele Legion, should be in a terrible predicament. He should no longer be thinking about how to gain benefits and repel us... but how to escape."

........................

The delivery of messages is time-sensitive, especially in this era. After the messenger had driven two horses to their deaths and was nearly unconscious from exhaustion, he finally delivered the message to the army at the front. The army's commanders dared not delay and immediately dispatched fast horses to continue sending the message forward. Of course, in this process, the army's commanders were not the only ones who received the message immediately.

Samir was much more relaxed than he had been a few days earlier – after all, although the situation was still worrying, it had at least stabilized, and he had room to maneuver, so he could eventually improve the situation.

Just as they said when they first discussed strategy—they already had what they needed most. As long as they controlled the Southeast Valley, they could either resist the imperial invasion or continue to seize the land of the Hols. Once they got there, they had already achieved their initial goal; the rest would just be icing on the cake.

So even though his army had effectively split apart, even though many of his lords had become disloyal to him, and even though his daughter had fallen into enemy hands, he remained calm and composed.

The Imperial army lived up to its reputation. Even the most fortified cities were on the verge of collapse in their presence, but through constant maneuvering, he managed to halt the enemy's advance and block the Imperial offensive.

Just like using rotten wood to stop a piercing knife, no matter how sharp the knife is, it will eventually stop... and when it pierces too deep, that's when it breaks.

But now, he has to consider a question... how did he end up in this situation? How did things suddenly deteriorate to this extent?!

While his army was repelling the Imperial attack, their retreat had been silently cut off! His previous composure vanished instantly; overwhelmed by shock and fear, he abruptly stood up and overturned the table in front of him.

"How did the Imperial army get there? Did they fly there? The entire estuary of the Us Sea is under close surveillance by our fleet! There's been absolutely no news from the border with Asri, so how did they suddenly appear?!"

At this moment, his mind was churning like a pot of porridge, with all sorts of chaotic thoughts vying to emerge, and all sorts of incoherent guesses almost bursting out of his mouth. He had completely lost his composure.

This was so strange, so terrifyingly strange… their retreat was cut off, and a powerful enemy lay before them. What they had thought was an impregnable defense of the valley had now become a pocket, trapping them tightly inside—a dire situation for any army, one that could be described as utterly hopeless.

He racked his brains trying to figure out the reason—not to solve anything, but because the intense shock and unease drove him to find out what was going on.

When the messenger, limp and exhausted, was dragged before him, he finally learned a strange message from him:

"The Imperial army came from the coast... most likely they were transported there by ships."

"It came from the sea... If it came from the sea, it could only be the river in the north..."

His brows furrowed at first, then his eyes suddenly twitched upwards, and his whole face contorted into a ferocious expression.

"What on earth are the Hols doing?!"

Chapter 327 Second Line (3)

The fleet from the north delivered the Imperial army to their rear!

The moment he received this definite news, Samir thought about many things, and he instantly realized that the Hols must have done something about it.

...The only outlet to the sea in the north is the river within their territory, and it is absolutely impossible to hide such a large army from them by transporting it into the sea through the river, even if they lose control of the area, since their fleet is still at sea!

But they remained unmoved after receiving this news, not even sending a messenger to warn him, allowing the Imperial Legion to appear behind him and lock him firmly in the southeastern valley...

This judgment made his veins bulge, and he almost recklessly summoned his legions to make the Holsteins pay for their stupidity and greed—he could guess with his toes what those guys were thinking; they just wanted to hope that he and the Empire would both suffer heavy losses so that they could reap the benefits! They never wanted to give up the Southeast Valley in the first place.

After all, this land was originally where they resisted Asel, and the southern fortresses also blocked the iron hooves of the Sand Kingdom. They certainly did not want this land to fall into Asel's hands.

This so-called aid war was full of exchanges of interests and intrigue from the very beginning... No, wait!

Samir, consumed by rage, suddenly restrained himself with reason. He realized a crucial point: would allowing his legion to be encircled and annihilated by the Empire truly benefit the Hols? Wouldn't that make the Empire's iron hooves completely unstoppable? Wouldn't they just suffer the same fate as before?

If things really come to that, what difference will it make if the Asher people's support never came at all?! They will still be ruled by the Empire, and their king and nobles will still die under the legion's sword.

So what would be the best-case scenario for them?

...His legion would certainly retreat hastily after receiving a well-timed warning, and it would be a full-scale retreat. He couldn't possibly spare a force sufficient to deal with the enemy in the rear when facing a powerful foe, not to mention that it was still uncertain whether he could even command a portion of his troops...

Most importantly, the timing of this warning must be just right, so that the empire doesn't actually cut off his return route, leaving tens of thousands of troops in dire straits, nor does it allow him to prepare in advance and calmly repel the enemy. It will only disrupt his current arrangements, preventing him from easily taking control of the Southeast Valley.

If everything really develops in this direction, it would be perfect for the Hols. The two nations would fight to the death here, with heavy casualties, and the southern kingdom, which was almost destroyed, would have a chance to breathe and recover...

A jumble of thoughts clashed in his mind, making him almost unable to stop pacing back and forth in the tent. Various speculations and immense pressure were forcing him to make a decision as soon as possible, while at the same time he was constantly issuing orders to summon his advisors and noble generals.

This guess seemed reasonable at first glance, but after a moment's thought, he discovered many flaws, which made him extremely anxious... There were simply too few channels to obtain intelligence. The Imperial cavalry controlled the entire plain, making it extremely difficult for their messengers to move. All communication with the Hols was carried out by ships—and now he was truly tasting the bitter fruit of this.

His attention was temporarily diverted when a figure suddenly entered the tent guarded by the soldiers. He looked at the figure with a neatly trimmed beard:

“Adanso, I remember I asked you to handle something else.”

“Yes, my master… but there is someone I must let you see.”

The tall, thin middle-aged man stepped aside, while two Alphalis clad in brass-scaled armor grabbed the shoulders of a frail man and dragged him inside.

Samir frowned, looking at the man who was as weak as a dead dog. His gaze lingered on the man's sharp ears for a while.