Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The sun had reached the edge of the mountain peaks, casting a bright, blood-red light. It illuminated everything in the forest as if it were soaked in blood, but soon it would set completely, releasing darkness to engulf the earth.

But now, the waning sun still hasn't set, and it's still trying its best to prevent the cold and loneliness of the night from encroaching on this forest. The birds and beasts of the night in the jungle are also preparing to become active. Everything seems so natural and ordinary, but for the people living on this land, some things have already changed... unpredictable changes.

Chapter 403 Exposure (3)

Dense brambles are a nasty thing, especially for those traveling through the forest. They not only snag clothes and tear flesh, causing excruciating pain, but they also cunningly and maliciously hide in seemingly harmless thickets. Only when your hands and feet venture deep inside do you realize what awaits you, and then you curse endlessly amidst the sharp pain.

Normal people would choose to avoid these areas and walk on the cleared paths. But if they really have no other choice, most would carry a machete or similar tool to clear a path for themselves... Only one type of person would rush in recklessly and joyfully—that is, someone who is being chased and forced to flee for their life.

Urtbandora was an ordinary mercenary from the Western Kingdom of Sarudu, at least ten years ago. He was one of the most unsuccessful and down-on-his-luck mercenaries, who would scrimp and save to repair his armor, drink watered-down sour wine, eat black bread mixed with sawdust, and even have to borrow a grinder from a tavern to polish his blade.

All of this changed during a massacre that followed... These desperate guys, with their audacity, decided to rob a caravan on the road, even prepared to leave no survivors, but little did they know that it was actually a caravan used by the Holy Order to transport experimental subjects.

So they naturally became the targets of the massacre, and even their corpses were not wasted, but prepared to be used later. Only he was the first to kneel down and beg for mercy when he saw that the situation was not good, and he was even the first to chop the axe into the back of his teammates' heads.

This also gave him an opportunity, an opportunity to become a test subject—if he could survive, he would not only live, but also immediately gain unimaginable power. At that time, he obviously had no choice.

The experiment was incredibly painful. His limbs were cut open with sharp blades, his internal organs were turned inside out, his nerves were removed and stripped away, and he was given all sorts of drugs to drink and inject. He suspected that he might have gone mad at that time, but not very obviously.

But in the end, he survived and naturally believed that he had become a being beyond mortals. He did not resent the insect masters who tormented him, but was instead grateful to them for bringing about such an extraordinary transformation.

From then on, he devoted himself to the Holy Order of Knowledge, and grew increasingly contemptuous and disgusted with those mediocre mortals, even taking pleasure in torturing the experimental subjects... But he never imagined that one day he would be driven to such a state by these mortals.

The dense thorns tore at his clothes and ripped his flesh. The vicious thorns even pierced his flesh and broke off the branches because of his movements, but he dared not slow down his movements even a little. He desperately tore and slashed with the sharp blades that grew from his wrists, allowing himself to continue to move through these desolate bushes.

Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

A shrill screech, like the cry of a bird, came from the side, and he was terrified. He desperately burrowed into the ground, and then two or three vicious crossbow bolts, about the length of a middle finger, forged from steel, with sharp blades and blood grooves, grazed his head and pierced the tree trunk next to him. Thin copper plates served as stabilizing tails, and could also cut off a person's fingers like blades.

A black figure wearing a bronze mask emerged from the bushes beside him with a grin on his face. He couldn't see the expression on the other person's face, but the bronze mask had an exaggerated and mocking smile, revealing the coldness and stiffness of metal, which made people even more uneasy.

Those three crossbow bolts were fired from the opponent's hand crossbow, which was only the length of a forearm. Their power was not as amazing as that of a crossbow bolt that could be drawn with both hands, but with the sharp blade and barbs, they were enough to easily pierce the flesh, sever ligaments, and bring extreme pain to the target. As long as they struggled slightly, the blade and barbs on the crossbow bolts would gleefully tear apart more flesh.

This weapon is not designed to kill the target, like thorns that are hooking at his flesh; it is more about torment and pain, to render the target immobile and helpless.

Even if one of these crossbow bolts pierced his joint, he probably wouldn't be able to take a single step...

The parasite inside his body gave him superhuman endurance and agility, but he had no intention of fighting it. Instead, he took advantage of the moment when the creature was cocking its crossbow to scramble out of the bushes and plunge into an even more remote ravine, enduring the pain of thorns scraping against his body again and again.

He dared not stop, and absolutely could not stop, because he knew that the empire's hounds and jailers were hunting him down. Even if he could kill the pursuer, he would be caught in this terrible net because of the delay, and then he would truly be doomed.

But he wasn't running around aimlessly—he wasn't like those fools in the Grain in Ear season who would plunge headlong into a place they knew nothing about and act recklessly. Before actually taking action, he had carefully studied the surrounding terrain and his escape route, so he knew very well that if he continued along this ravine, he would reach a river that flowed through the forest. The flow wasn't too strong, but it was enough for him to slip in and escape.

However, this process was also extremely painful. Thorns were everywhere in the barren mountains, especially in this place with piles of rubble where other plants could hardly grow. He dared not open his eyes for fear of being scratched by the thorns that were everywhere.

The dense and thorny forest provided him with considerable protection. As long as his pursuers did not dive into the thicket with the same recklessness, no one could outrun him... just as a person who cherishes his boots cannot catch a thief who dares to wade through the mud.

He gritted his teeth and forced his way through the dense thicket of thorns, his clothes torn into rags, revealing the tough leather undershirt underneath. The exposed skin was covered in blood, a truly gruesome sight.

But he ultimately achieved his goal. After crossing the last stone, he heard the sound of rushing water, and a refreshing mist of water rushed towards him.

Having calculated the distance, he leaped up without hesitation, passing through the last layer of bushes. His boots immediately felt the pebbles on the riverbank, and before him lay a clear and wide river.

Once he plunges into the river and goes downstream, he can climb ashore at any point downstream, making it extremely difficult for his pursuers to catch him.

Without a moment to hesitate, Urtbandora plunged headlong into the river—or rather, did half of the action—before turning around without hesitation and viciously stabbing downwards with the sharp blade in his hand.

Ding! Ding ding ding!

Bone and steel collided with a crisp, melodious sound, followed by a relentless barrage like a sudden storm. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he desperately parried the rain of sharp spikes, trying to prevent the weapon, capable of easily piercing through his chainmail, from piercing his chest as well.

Fast! Terrifyingly fast, so fast that it's impossible to think, as fast as standing in a raging storm, except that every drop of rain is sharp steel, a vicious grim reaper, where the slightest carelessness will cost you your life, and the slightest flaw will cost you dearly.

He quickly realized that if he continued to parry like this, his throat would be torn open and his chest pierced by the vicious spikes. But his opponent pressed on relentlessly, making it impossible for him to escape. In desperation, he bulged his throat and spat out a white-green acidic liquid with a fierce expression.

The gray figure in front of me was only wearing a short garment that covered his body and limbs, with only his two eyes showing. He had no chance against this terrible strong acid liquid. In an instant, his eyes would be blinded and his face would be corroded!

He eagerly anticipated the scene—the enemy screaming and howling under the corrosive acid, easily killed by him. He had done this countless times in the past for fun, without exception.

After all, who can withstand such a blow? And without prior intelligence, who can defend against it?

...As it turns out, such a seemingly clever pause often leads to disastrous consequences.

The gray figure suddenly blurred rapidly in front of him, then appeared five steps away. The sour liquid splashed onto the stones, but did not touch the fibers or flesh. However, a sharp and intense pain pierced his shoulder blade from behind.

"!!——"

He looked down in shock, only to see a blood-stained tip emerging from under his armpit, precisely piercing his ligaments and bones, locking his shoulder blade tightly!

His panic vanished in an instant; almost instinctively, he tried to escape the dangerous situation using only his two legs—given his superhuman jumping ability! ...

呲!

Two more sharp cones were taken from his belt and calmly pierced the ligaments of his knees, as easily as a butcher slaughtering pigs and sheep.

Having suffered such a severe blow, he could no longer stand and fell to the ground in a rather disheveled and unwilling manner, only able to watch helplessly as the two gray figures slowly approached.

He didn't even realize that another person had circled around behind him! And the guy who made the first move was just trying to draw his attention!

In an instant, he understood everything that had just happened, but it was too late, because the surrounding jungle began to ripple, and the copper-masked jailers filed out. One of them grabbed a long iron clamp and grabbed his neck, forcibly dragging him up from the ground like a dead dog, and then tied him up with ropes.

Only after confirming that he was unable to move did the gray-clad henchmen approach and draw their weapons. The armor-piercing spikes, forged from fine steel, were completely free of blood; all the blood dripped from their sharp tips onto the ground. The henchmen showed no sign of pride in this, and just as silently as they had arrived, they left from both sides.

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

Without hesitation, Dorsyat discarded the crossbow in his hand. The moment the order to take action was given, he threw the crossbow into a crevice in the rocks next to him, to prevent this thing that had just been useful from slowing him down.

After the plan for a long-range sniper was finalized, he, with the best marksmanship among the three and the parasite in his eyes, naturally took on the task. And indeed, he proved to be capable of handling such a heavy responsibility, but in the end, fate was beyond his control.

The target was a full 150 paces away. At that distance, a person wouldn't even be larger than the tiny notch used for aiming, making it extremely difficult to hit accurately... But he still seized the moment when the target paused by the well, and the crossbow bolt struck the man's head with perfect accuracy.

At that distance, the crossbow bolts fly in an arc and are extremely susceptible to the wind. His success at the time even shocked himself... The joy that followed turned into the frustration of failure before it could even fully unfold.

For some reason, his target suddenly straightened up and raised his head, causing the crossbow bolt to hit his chest instead. Surprisingly, the chest was already pierced by armor, rendering the bolt, which had traveled too far and had reduced power, useless.

When their first attack failed, he knew there would be no more chances. Without any hesitation, the three of them decided to split up and retreat... In short, they would have to rely on their own abilities to escape on their own.

He couldn't escape towards the area closer to the other two, lest he implicate them if he made a mistake. So the best direction was the cliff to the due south!

Without any hesitation, he jumped off the edge of the cliff, and then, just half a second later, turned and reached forward, accurately grabbing a protruding rock. The impact of the sudden fall made a crisp scraping sound on his shoulder, and the parasite inside his body also began to wriggle, enhancing his endurance and strength.

The fingers moved slowly to the sides. Then a curved bone spur emerged from the gap between the middle and ring fingers, as thick and sharp as an eagle's talon, with fine serrations at the bottom for cutting flesh.

He inserted the bone spike into the crevice between the two rocks, twisted it slightly, and it became firmly stuck. He stretched his muscles and bones, slowly shifting his position until he found a new foothold. Then he moved to that spot and, following the protruding rocks and the recessed footholds, he quickly climbed down the cliff at a speed that was beyond the reach of ordinary people. Below was the private hunting ground that used to belong to the Holstein count. The dense forest and complex environment were enough for him to hide comfortably.

Although the situation became critical, he remained calm. Like the other two, he had planned his escape route in the world... Who would have thought that he would dare to climb down the cliff empty-handed?

Chapter 404 Preparing for War (1)

The cool mist began to seep silently into the fibers of clothing. In this damp and cool morning, the mist was everywhere in the forest, soaking the damp soil and leaves, leaving a layer of moisture on the surface of steel, posing a hidden danger to those who did not take care to maintain their weapons, and also making those who did not wrap themselves in blankets taste the bitter fruit.

In this western land, because there are no mountains to block it, the sea breeze from the west can always blow across the entire land without restraint, generously spreading moisture to every place. To some extent, this has created the perennial damp and cold climate here, and has also caused the lords here to suffer from joint pain.

This kind of pain is not limited to the poor and the lowly. Even noble lords who enjoy fine wine and meat all day long suffer more from it. Medicine can only relieve the pain temporarily. Some people are so badly injured that they cannot walk. When they rest, they have to deliberately place their joints, hands and feet on soft leather chairs. Even the slightest movement will make them feel a burning pain in their joints, as if they are being dug out by a dagger.

So their rooms always had fireplaces burning from morning till night, using the flames to dispel the occasional fog, allowing them to comfortably curl up in thick animal skin blankets.

Diyul had suffered from this kind of torment in the past... Although their lives were not so comfortable that they could eat meat and fish every day, they were still much better than ordinary people. In addition, they had been active in coastal cities for many years, and almost everyone had some problems with their hands and feet. They would become numb, sluggish and painful when it was too cold or too damp.

His problem was a bit more serious than his brothers'. In those freezing seasons, his right wrist was almost immobile, and he could feel an abnormal hard lump at the joint when he touched it.

But today, the chilly fog had no effect on him whatsoever, as it was all kept out by the thick, warm wool blanket, leaving his hands and feet warm and dry as if they had just been baked by a fireplace.

It wasn't until the first rays of the morning sun shone on their camp that Diyur calmly lifted his blanket and got up, taking a deep breath of the damp, chilly morning air. He then began to fold his blanket, rolling the fine, soft wool fabric into a small bundle that he could carry directly on his back.

This was allocated to them, the mercenaries, by order of their current commander. It was all thick, soft, high-quality wool, which provided warmth immediately when wrapped around the body. Even the sleeping area, if closer to the fire, would cause some to sweat profusely.

This kind of blanket is definitely not cheap... Diyul didn't know exactly how much it cost, but he knew very well that he and his men would never have been able to afford it in the past. Just by looking at the fine stitches and the sturdy and durable cotton edging, he knew that it was definitely a top-quality item, even good enough to be laid on a lord's bed.

Compared to these blankets, the blankets they used to use on marches suddenly became rags to wipe their feet, and they could sleep soundly even on nights after it had just rained, living under those felt tents without fear of wind and rain.

Now, none of these mercenaries have any doubts about their original decision. On the contrary, they all praise the wisdom of their leaders and are very excited about the preferential treatment they have received.

The Imperials' generosity exceeded their most optimistic expectations. Even these mercenaries, who were usually neglected, were treated the same as the Legion soldiers. Clothes, shoes, headscarves, socks, belts, blankets, ropes, tents... It can be said that they received the same treatment as the Imperials in every aspect of their lives, and they were quite comfortable living in the cold and damp mountains.

In addition to the large sum of reward they received earlier, they now receive a monthly military salary from above, which is far more profitable than working for Redbeard, not to mention they don't have to be driven to their deaths.

If there was anything they were dissatisfied with or uncomfortable about, it was probably the strict discipline that suddenly descended upon them... After voluntarily surrendering to the Empire and deciding to serve the Imperial Legion, they legally became members of the country's army, and thus naturally began to be subject to military law. Military judges also began to use whips and execution axes to make them understand the consequences of violating military law.

So their past leisurely life vanished in an instant. Every day, military officers would repeatedly explain the military rules to them. First, the rules were passed on to the centurions, platoon leaders, and captains, then the higher-ranking officers would teach the lower-ranking officers, who would then teach the soldiers. They would also be frequently checked and whipped. If they could not answer three times, they would be dragged out and whipped, and their superiors would also be punished.

Once they were familiar with the military laws, the military judges would show no leniency if they violated them... During this period, those among them who couldn't break their old habits, who tried to go out and have fun, or even who tried to rob a caravan on the road to earn some extra money like the soldiers here in the past, were all pinned to wooden stakes and beheaded, no matter how much they begged for mercy.

Not to mention those who cheat, violate curfew, drink all night, make noise, and fight—this was not a problem for them in the past, after all, what mercenary doesn't do these things? But now it will really bring whipping and punishment. Some people are even afraid of being beaten. They will tremble with fear when they see soldiers carrying whips and whose armor is edged with red leather.

Under such strict laws, some mercenaries soon couldn't take it anymore, constantly complaining, and quite a few even wanted to run away. Anyway, they had already received their rewards, and they had done a great job. Next, they would just take their money and go home. Why would they want to be supervised by anyone? Although they were paid a lot and the treatment was good, if they had to suffer like this, they would rather go back to the old days when they could do nothing all the time.

Diyul knew things might get worse, so he immediately contacted several other mercenary leaders and had them gather the guys who wanted to leave. Using some of the experience and methods he had accumulated over the years in this line of work, he finally managed to bring these guys back to their senses.

He knew there were bound to be short-sighted individuals among his men, but he never imagined there would be so many! Each and every one of them only cared about the money they had just received, completely unaware that compared to their future gains, that sum of money was nothing at all!

Those who plotted this from the very beginning knew exactly what their goal was—to gain status and wealth, to rise above others, and to break free from their current lowly position! And if they wanted to achieve this, what better way was there than to become a member of the Imperial Legion? What better opportunity could they have?

They had already received considerable preferential treatment for their previous contributions in surrendering to the empire. If they could make further contributions in the upcoming war and climb the ranks... or even think further ahead, after the empire conquers this land and the local nobles are purged to establish a new ruling institution, would these meritorious officials be ignored?

All of this is far beyond what that sum of money can buy. Those guys couldn't even tolerate a moment of restraint. They gave up as soon as they got a little taste of success, just like a very hungry mouse that was fed with straw. They couldn't even see the heavy wheat at the end of those straws.

The vast majority of those who had given up were persuaded by them, and many were even glad that they hadn't acted rashly and run away. However, there were a dozen or so reckless guys who were determined to leave. As for them, Diyul and his men didn't waste any more words on them. After reporting the matter to their superiors, they dealt with them secretly.

With a major battle imminent, they didn't even think about who would let them go now, or what if they betrayed them?! ...So when they insisted on leaving despite our repeated attempts to persuade them to stay, they were already doomed. Either we would take action, or the Empire would. It was better for them to take action themselves and at least show their loyalty to General Natamus, the commander of the Empire.

In such forests, corpses are always easy to dispose of. They don't even need to be buried too deep. As long as they are a little far from the camp, various wild animals will come to help. And the bones that have been gnawed clean will have no way of finding out who it belongs to, and will eventually just stay with the forest.

The remaining people became much more obedient. Under the management of the Empire, they gradually adapted and lost the unbearable feeling they had before. After all, someone had pointed out the goal to them, so most of them were naturally motivated.

Now even their camp is no longer as chaotic as it used to be. Under the reprimand of the officers sent by the Empire, it has been planned neatly and orderly, with roads and drainage ditches, as well as toilets and garbage pits. It is clean and tidy. With a few bloody heads hanging at the edge of the camp, it immediately has the feel of strict discipline, making it clear to anyone who looks at it that this is a military camp.

Everything was quite satisfactory to Diyul. The only thing that puzzled him was that they had been waiting here for far too long. He had thought that the Imperial Army would launch an attack immediately after the rallying cry, but a whole month had passed since the road was opened, and the entire army was still motionless, hiding in a valley in the mountains. The army was training every day, but no orders to attack had been issued.

He wasn't worried that the Empire would return empty-handed. After all, the current situation was that the enemy was completely unaware, with a blade pointed at their back. A single strike would easily annihilate this western gateway that had been blocking the Empire's path. No general could resist such a temptation. Besides, such a large army wasn't meant to be hidden in the mountains for two months; that would be a complete waste of money. Even if the goal was to intimidate the enemy, they should at least be brought out and made visible.

During this time, he had also been gathering information about the empire's internal affairs, increasing his understanding of the country he would be serving in the future. Therefore, he also understood better what kind of person Natammus was... If such a hero were to back down because of some insignificant setbacks, then he would have to wonder if he was dreaming.

Without a doubt, the commander of the Empire's western legion was brewing a plan that would tear off the most flesh and blood in one blow, and he sincerely looked forward to being able to taste the delicious flesh and blood that he had never dared to dream of before, in order to soothe his restless heart.

He couldn't wait to see those once high and mighty lords drown in mud and blood, falling headlong from their noble seats, their heads bleeding profusely, while the places they vacated would be taken by more capable people, like himself...

Thump thump thump! Thump! !

A dull thud came from the side; it was the sentry on night patrol tapping a thick plank hanging from a tree branch with a wooden mallet, urging the soldiers in the camp to get up... This thing was originally made of copper or iron, producing a crisp, noisy sound enough to wake even the laziest and sleepiest man from his bed. But now, to avoid creating too much motive before it was even started, they had to use wood instead, and if that wasn't enough, the officers had to use their initiative.

Upon seeing this figure, he knew what he had to do. He quickly went to the tents next to him and called out the former mercenary leaders one by one. Before long, their camp became lively, and soldiers could be seen everywhere fetching water to wash up.

The flag in their camp was a simple red banner with a unique number embroidered in gold thread, and no other markings—meaning they were a newly formed unit that had not yet earned any honors. However, their shields were uniformly painted with the image of the Imperial double-headed eagle, signifying their current affiliation.