Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

He was a master hammer user; it was almost an instinct flowing in his blood. When he swung the hammer down, he felt his blood boil, and a strange sense of exhilaration surged through his entire body. He would never deviate even by the slightest bit; the force would penetrate his armor and reach his bones like an awl.

He still remembers the first time he killed someone with a hammer—not as a soldier killing an enemy, but as a traveler hammering a bandit who was trying to rob him—he smashed the helmet so hard that it was embedded deep into the skull, and an eye popped out of its socket, pulled by bloody nerves.

His actions at the time were no different from those of a blacksmith, except that hammering iron on an anvil was to create something, while hitting someone's head was to destroy them completely.

The left-hand strike triggered the opponent's parrying weapon, but this was merely a feint. With a flick of his wrist, he spun his warhammer, slamming it heavily onto the opponent's shoulder, then smashing it upwards, shattering the opponent's jaw.

Watching the other man's body fall indifferently, Luca retreated again... This was the fifth person to die at his hands today, and he intended to kill many more until all the rebels who were trying to disrupt the country were wiped out.

He had a hard life, but there were good parts to compensate him. He would never allow a group of ambitious rebels to destroy it all, and if more heads needed to be smashed to stop them, he would do it without hesitation.

incite!!

As the sharp sound of the bronze whistle rang out, the order to rotate was given again. He panted as he put away his shield, covering his vital parts, and then slowly retreated to the beat of the drums, retreating like an iron wall with his comrades beside him. At the same time, new, energetic comrades advanced through the gaps between them, shoulder to shoulder with them, shields clashing against each other, taking over the battlefield.

This was something he had done countless times, something he knew by heart, almost ingrained in his bones. He knew he had a quarter of an hour to catch his breath, drink water, and then he would step forward to take over, grinding down his opponents bit by bit like a constantly turning iron wheel until they were defeated.

But in this ordinary and routine process, he suddenly trembled, his eyes fixed on a soldier who brushed past him, his lips trembled, and he frowned as he watched the soldier's stiff steps.

He didn't recognize the young man, but he could tell at a glance that the other man was in a bad state, probably because he was nervous and uneasy because it was his first time on the battlefield... This was an unavoidable process. Soldiers always have to see blood for the first time and kill for the first time. It's just that his luck wasn't too good. The first time he had to face soldiers from a legion that were almost as elite as him.

Soldiers who successfully navigate this process become more elite and outstanding, accumulating valuable experience, while those who fail become the enemy's experience and gains.

Driven by some inexplicable feeling, in the instant they brushed past each other, he raised his hand and patted the other man's shoulder heavily, then steadily and forcefully patted him twice more before continuing to retreat as ordered by the military... At that moment, he sincerely wished that this young man could get through this ordeal and hoped that he could gain his own courage.

Just like him back then... every soldier of the Empire has to go through this ordeal.

………………

The moment I truly approached the battlefield, smelled the pungent stench of blood, and saw the piles of corpses and the struggling wounded, I truly realized the weight of the word "war." I couldn't help but waver, but this wavering could not go against the tide of history, and the fear of violating military law ultimately overwhelmed it.

In the instant of their shifts, the young Imperial soldier suddenly felt someone patting his shoulder from behind. The pat was heavy and steady, and it was repeated three times. The sensation traveled through the armor plates and bones on his shoulder, making his heart skip a beat.

What does this mean? ... He couldn't help but think about it, and then immediately realized that the other party wanted to convey something to him, but because of the ambiguity of the expression, it was ultimately difficult to understand, but it had already made him forget the wavering he had just experienced.

Forward, they formed a new line, replacing the phalanx that had just rotated out. He and his comrades stood shoulder to shoulder, maintaining a distance that wouldn't interfere with each other's weapon swings. Every second they became more and more adapted to the battlefield. Arrows flying overhead struck each other's formations, creating loud sparks on the armor plates or piercing through weak points.

He met his opponent—a young man who wasn't particularly burly, but was sturdy enough, with a dark complexion. Underneath his identical nasal helmet, the young man's lips were tightly pursed, and he looked braver and more composed than him, as he approached.

The only difference between them might be the plumes on their helmets; his was a fiery red, while the other's was as black as smoke. The double-headed eagle on his shield hadn't even been wiped off yet, and he was already standing there, ready to fight him.

An arrow flew through the air, clanging against his shield. Almost instinctively, he bent over and stepped forward, catching the impact of the shield. Just as the immense force was about to knock him over, his comrade behind him firmly grabbed his shoulder, providing support and preventing him from falling directly to the ground.

Now their shields were pressed together, and the lines on each other's faces were almost visible. He quickly realized that this guy was stronger than him and was almost using brute force to press his hand against his chest.

The next moment, without hesitation, he swung his iron staff and smashed it down on the other man's head. The man seemed to be taken aback, but with considerable experience, he turned his head and used the thickest tip to block the blow. The tip of his staff inevitably slipped off the pointed structure—he had lost the optimal angle of force, while the other man continued to press down.

He was almost at his wit's end... but the halberd thrusting from behind immediately changed the situation. His opponent dodged in a panic, which gave him a chance to catch his breath. He instinctively used his shield to cover his left side and then slammed the iron staff heavily into his vulnerable ribs.

With a bang, the armor plate was bent by the hammer, and his head was buzzing... The opponent's battle axe struck his helmet at the last moment, but it was too late. The heavy blow hit his ribs, and he lost most of his strength.

Despite his slight discomfort, he continued his attack, striking the man's knee with his staff and slamming his shield into his face, knocking him to the ground. He then stepped forward, raised his hammer, and prepared to smash the man's face.

At that moment, the young man clearly saw the fear on the other person's face... It was so real, so familiar... But after a moment's hesitation, he gritted his teeth and slammed the iron rod down heavily, destroying the other person's entire mouth in one blow, crushing flesh and teeth into a pile, and then blow after blow... until only a convulsing corpse remained on the ground before he stood up.

His comrades grabbed his belt and dragged him back into the fray. He didn't have time to reflect on what it felt like to kill for the first time, because he was about to face his next opponent. He had no time or energy to overthink things.

Only the iron rod in his hand was dripping a thick, red liquid, desperately trying to irritate his fingers...

Chapter 493 Battle (10)

The casualties were as high as he had expected, which did not surprise Tersolius. After all, they were facing the true Imperial Legion. Even though they had betrayed their past cause, their training, equipment, and strict discipline remained unchanged. Anyone who came to fight them would inevitably pay the price.

Of course, his opponents had also suffered heavy losses. Only a small portion of them were killed in the carnage after the formal engagement, while the majority were slaughtered by catapult and ballista ammunition, and they were still under heavy fire. Some were struck by flying stones, their bones broken, while others were impaled on the ground by ballista arrows that were like spears.

The nomadic cavalry of the Kiel were watching them menacingly from both flanks, but the Imperial light cavalry met them head-on without hesitation. Under the cover of a barrage of arrows, they calmly engaged them and crushed them with their disciplined ranks, preventing these ambitious wolves from ever getting close to the rear of the army.

The army's formation remained perfectly organized, with constant and orderly rotations, operating as efficiently as a machine. Their enemy was not yet weakened to the point of affecting their combat effectiveness. The meat grinder at the front, due to its extremely high armor coverage, was destined not to be decided in a short time. Currently, both sides were bleeding each other dry, and it was only a matter of who would break down first.

Of course, their own intact ballistae and catapults were not just for show. If the two sides were like toothpicks stabbing each other in a meat grinder, then their output was at least equivalent to a small dagger. At this moment, they had already caused thousands of casualties, and the number was still growing.

And this is his core tactic this time... The knowledgeable Bivis brought him a great surprise. He almost immediately realized what kind of effect this extremely precise war machine would have. It would give him an opportunity to kill the enemy forces without restraint. To be precise, given the right conditions, he could use these machines to defeat an army.

For this reason, he mobilized all the stockpiles in the nearby cities and conscripted more auxiliary soldiers to transport these highly destructive weapons, all in order to make a name for himself at this moment... And these behemoths made of fine steel, brass and hardwood did not disappoint him at all, and at this moment they were still stirring up countless bloody storms in the enemy's ranks.

He would trade crossbow bolts and stone projectiles for the lives of the enemy's elite armored soldiers—he would accept any offer, as many as the enemy had, until they dared not trade anymore. In other words, as long as this situation continued, he would eventually win. Even the most resilient army would find it difficult to withstand such an attack for long.

Of course, this is on the premise that he can firmly maintain the defensive line, prevent it from being breached by the enemy's superior forces, and prevent the catapult and ballista positions from being threatened.

Although his enemies reacted a little slower, they ultimately made the right decision: to use heavy phalanxes to advance and entangle his lines, minimizing the damage from catapults and ballistae, and hoping to overwhelm his defenses with more men and more elite heavy infantry... Once they succeeded, even he would have to gather his troops and retreat as soon as possible, otherwise he would squander all the resistance forces that could be assembled during this period.

Despite his skillful troop deployments keeping the front lines steadfast and relentlessly grinding down the enemy forces like a meat grinder, the teeth of this meat grinder were inevitably being damaged, and it was risked that they would break down sooner or later if this dragged on... But fortunately, he did not intend to rely solely on infantry and archers to win this war.

Four hundred heavily armored cavalrymen had been waiting in the mountain hollow for a long time. The huge hooves of the Passatrian warhorses were impatiently pounding the ground, their armor plates were as bright as snow, their blood-red helmet plumes slid on their helmets, and their gleaming spears were arranged like a jungle.

These were undoubtedly the most expensive, elite, and powerful warriors on this battlefield. When they charged, most opponents could only desperately face trampling and spears. Only the most determined elite heavy infantry could compete with them. And now he was waiting for an opportunity, an opportunity that would completely destroy the rebel lines.

To create this opportunity, he needed to wait for Carila and Colin's collaboration to take effect... and now that time has come.

As the military order was given, the command flags surrounding his central banner waved continuously, and the bugle sounded three times in succession. At the rear of the army, a square formation that was ready for battle also waved its flags in response. A helmet wearing a golden laurel wreath flashed by, followed by a group of long axes and heavy halberds raised high, as sharp as blades just taken from a whetstone.

………………

The black longbow in her hand had an astonishingly strong draw weight, a huge challenge even for a strong adult man, but she had already used up two whole quiver of arrows with this bow, and had lost count of how many enemies had been shot through their eye sockets and weak points in their armor, becoming part of the pile of corpses on the ground.

Even with thick leather finger guards protecting her fingers, at this moment, the index and middle fingers of her right hand were still bleeding, red, swollen, and painful. Every now and then, she would shout orders to the flag bearers behind her, directing the archers under her command to change their targets and use a dense barrage of arrows to create continuous sprays of blood and sparks from the collision of armor plates in the enemy ranks.

The current battle situation is not yet so intense that it is difficult to manage, so both sides still have room to send the wounded to the rear. However, the cruelty and bloodshed on the front line have already opened Colin's eyes.

Only now did she truly realize how different the opponents she was facing this time were from those before... In the past, neither the Hols, the Ashers, nor the Kurists had ever possessed such an elite heavy infantry group. Their infantry lines were basically weak and easy to bully by the Empire. Only soldiers from the Imperial Legion could contend with them and fight so fiercely and intensely.

With both sides heavily armored, ordinary swords and blades could no longer be relied upon to inflict real damage. Only spears, halberds, long axes, warhammers, and flails could be considered effective. Their most proficient heavy arrow volleys had to be aimed at vital points such as the face and armpits to succeed. Even if she wanted to kill an elite heavy infantryman, she was destined to expend considerable effort. If it weren't for the orderly rotation of the front ranks, some new recruits would probably have succumbed to the torment and bloodshed and begun to waver.

The sight of this slow, brutal slaughter was making her teeth ache. The screams of the wounded soldiers being transported down, filled with fear and pain, were also jarring. To make matters worse, the passage for transporting the wounded happened to be right next to her, which even caused her to miss her target. One of her arrows grazed the head of a standard-bearer under an enemy centurion's flag, and with the force still lingering, it burrowed deep into the soil.

"Damn it, when will that barbarian make a move...?"

She muttered a cautious complaint, and at the same time subconsciously looked up and glanced back. But in that one glance, she saw the scene of orders being issued around the central army banner. She immediately felt a jolt and knew that it was time to prepare to take action!

"Give me the signal to wave the flag and tell those guys waiting behind to hurry up! Time to get to work!"

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

The human neck is actually very difficult to cut. The structure is complex, consisting of hard bones, flexible tendons, the trachea, blood vessels, skin, and muscles. People who are not familiar with it can easily get the blade stuck in the bone, resulting in an awkward and messy cut.

If it's a heavy, sharp longsword or axe, it can ignore the bone and cut through the flesh along with the bone. But for a short knife or dagger that isn't heavy enough, it requires extremely high skill to use a thin blade to cut through tendons and flesh in a quick and clean motion.

She could do it easily, not because she had any particular preference, but simply because she had to... In the past, she would just make a quick cut and leave her target with a slit in the head, leaving a gaping wound that went straight through the skull. Even if the target survived, the deadly poison on the blade would take their life afterward.

However, those who have been parasitized by the alien insects are difficult to kill for this reason... To be precise, the insects may not die even if the person dies; the head must be cut off to be considered safe.

Since receiving the Emperor's orders, she has cut off countless heads of "Turiars," but none of them were her true targets. The Holy Order of Knowledge has spared no effort in supporting the Empire's rebels, preparing countless decoys alone, which has forced her to gather clues little by little and slowly investigate.

At this very moment, not far away, the rebels were fighting against the legion commanded by Tersolius. Tens of thousands of people here knew that Turias was in the army, and countless eyes had seen him... but she was still hesitant.

She remained suspicious, and her suspicions only deepened... The ordinary soldiers of the rebel army were unaware of the cultists' methods. When they saw that face, they felt reassured, believing it must be the emperor they were nominally going to support. So, as long as that face was there, whoever stood there would have a similar effect.

Compared to the so-called targets she had killed before, this one was far too ostentatious and conspicuous. It was like a target used to attract attention, making no attempt to conceal itself and exposing itself directly to everyone's eyes. If she were to actually make a move, she would probably only be able to cut off another fake head with worms inside.

Yes, even if the target is in the middle of a large army, it is not entirely impossible for her. As long as she seizes the opportunity, she can still put the sharp blade in her hand into his neck. The only concern is that this is a trap, specially designed to lure her. Once she fails, she will not be able to escape.

The dense foliage among the trees provided perfect cover, allowing her to move silently like a shadow, leaping between treetops and branches without disturbing even the birds. Only the long, sharp blade held upside down on her wrist occasionally flashed a faint green light as she rapidly approached the side of the battlefield.

A small squad of Kiel nomadic cavalry, having been defeated and fleeing into the jungle, had suffered more than half their casualties and lost their will to fight. She passed over them without even looking, and no one noticed. Whenever her toes landed on the soft treetops, a thin layer of black mist would spread out, swallowing up all the sounds.

He moved through the jungle like a hawk folding its wings, concealing his murderous intent. His fingers unconsciously tapped on the hilt of his knife. As the blade sliced ​​through the leaves, it silently cleaved them in two. He was getting closer and closer to the rear of the battlefield, rapidly approaching the rolling steel.

Whether it's a trap or not, she has to go and check it out for herself...

………………

This is not a trap—Turias knows this very well. He himself is standing here, or rather, it would be impossible for him to gather such a large army if he were not here. After all, he is still everyone's nominal emperor... even though this emperor is still living in a tent, still boredly watching flies lick the blood off the tent, and hasn't even entered the capital of the empire.

Regardless of the circumstances, even if it's just used as an excuse, everyone has to give him some face. They're all in the same boat, which is why this army was able to arrive here safely.

At this moment, the development of the battle had already made him feel uneasy... The casualties caused by the bombardment of catapults and ballistae just now were already alarming, and the casualties suffered in the subsequent engagement were equally numerous... At this moment, he was still thinking that he could change the situation once the army truly pressed forward.

But once the battle actually began... they discovered that the heavy infantry group, despite having a numerical advantage, was unable to overwhelm the enemy, or even gain the upper hand. The two sides fought back and forth, and the number of soldiers killed or wounded by close-quarters combat, crossbow bolts, and arrows steadily increased. The enemy's catapult positions remained unassailed, and they continued to hurl stones and fire crossbow bolts at their reserve troops.

He could hardly comprehend how Tersolius had managed to do it! Although he was used to seeing that guy create miracles, the fact that this miracle had actually happened to him still unsettled him... He knew the situation around the capital all too well, and he knew very well that the legion was most likely newly recruited... But now they had managed to hold their own against the army he had assembled after only a dozen days of training? Not to mention a complete rout, they hadn't even shown any signs of wavering.

Has Thesolius's ability really reached this level?! He can achieve this effect simply by standing here?!

Chapter 494 Battle (11)

A shield covered in thick cowhide is a weapon of considerable weight. Its purpose is not merely to block enemy swords and spears. In the hands of an experienced veteran, its power is in no way inferior to a warhammer. A sudden swing of the shield can always have an unexpected effect. Soldiers wielding swords and shields are always adept at both offense and defense.

Those who are new to using shields may not realize this; in their hands, the shield is merely a tool for protection, like armor, rather than an aid for striking, swinging, or assisting in close combat. However, if they are lucky enough to survive a few battles, the accumulated experience and lessons will show them the benefits of using shields this way.

His opponent was undoubtedly a veteran with ample experience and knowledge. Although his physical strength had declined, his agility and ferocity had not diminished in the slightest. His shield always protected him perfectly, and his pushes and collisions at crucial moments always had a miraculous effect. His warhammer, with its steel spikes, was covered in blood and had smashed countless heads.

Even though he was wearing heavy armor, he was unwilling to take a hit from that hammer... After all, this wasn't some one-on-one duel arena. The blunt force from that hammer could easily expose a fatal flaw, and even if he managed to kill his opponent, he might be killed by the opponent's comrades. So he didn't plan to rush forward recklessly. Instead, he quickly made a hand gesture, calling two skilled members of his squad to come with him, ready to cleanly and efficiently kill this veteran who had already killed several people.

The enemy almost immediately realized their intentions. They put away the hammers they were swinging to smash the enemy's head, and silently retreated back into their ranks, leaving their original positions. Their eyes under their helmets were cold and sharp, flashing with a cruel and cunning light.

He almost immediately sighed helplessly, knowing his plan had failed, and stopped advancing—they would be the ones to die if they went up now. In such a large formation, whoever broke away from the line first would be the first to die, and would die as worthless as straw.

Just when he thought the stalemate, exhausting and bloody torment was about to continue, he suddenly heard three horn calls in the distance, followed by a strange cheer that exploded from all around. The cheers were so loud and intense that he couldn't make out what they were saying, but a strange unease quickly began to spread in his heart. His heartbeat quickened abnormally, as if a hole had been opened in his heart and a wet, cold earthworm had been put inside.

This unease didn't torment him for long. Before long, he understood what the loyalists had been shouting... When the magnificent and majestic golden laurel wreath appeared before him, he realized that the Imperial Champion had arrived!

The so-called Imperial Champion naturally refers to the latest... that renowned killing machine who followed General Tersolius in his campaigns across the north and south! Her exploits of ravaging enemy troops in the south had already spread throughout the army, and seeing her in person now startled him instantly. He felt his hands and feet turn cold, and his heart trembled with fear.

Almost as if in response to his panic, the next moment the ranks before them shifted, and from among them emerged countless armored warriors wielding long axes and heavy halberds. The band pressed down in unison, and gleaming blades immediately flew up and down, while heavy hammers and flails began to whip up shattered steel and flesh.

In an instant, their lines were torn apart, leaving them bloodied. The killing efficiency of this elite armored warrior was far superior to what they had seen before. The first hundred-man square formation had already suffered considerable losses, and after being charged, it was scattered in all directions. The sounds of heavy weapons tearing through iron armor and smashing helmets were incessant. The corpses of the dead and wounded piled up on the ground, and the number was increasing at a visible rate.

Of course, he couldn't escape either... First, a long axe struck his helmet heavily. Although the helmet didn't break, blood was already flowing from his scalp. Then, in this dazed state, a warhammer struck him heavily in the temple. His vision blurred and he fell to the ground... In the last moment before he completely fell into darkness, he saw a tall figure calmly walking by with a long axe, urging his armored soldiers to surge like waves, crashing against their defenses.

………………

The weight of the armor plates she wore exceeded her usual limit, but it was far from hindering her movement. She remained agile and swift, quickly closing in on the front of the formation. A heavy arrow with a chisel-like tip was already nocked on the bowstring, bobbing with each step.

The elite troops she had gathered were doing the same thing. Each of them carried a high-quality longbow and heavy arrows with such strong draw that even ordinary men would find it difficult to pull them, yet they could be used hundreds of times without losing strength. The heavy armor they wore was in no way inferior to that of the heavy infantrymen fighting at the front. Although they were all sweating profusely, they were far from being exhausted.

The longbows wielded by these incredibly agile mountain people were no longer the simple kind of bows of the past, but heavy bows drawn from the armory of the imperial capital, bows that ordinary soldiers could not use at all. Their ends were curved upwards like snake tails, and when they stood upright, they were almost as tall as a person. Even heavily armored soldiers had to be careful when shooting arrows at close range.

And so they quickly closed to a distance that was extremely dangerous for archers, and then without hesitation began to execute the tactics they had planned beforehand—drawing their longbows to their fullest extent and then shooting heavy arrows at the faces of the enemy soldiers not far away!

This tactic worked immediately. After all, no matter how strong the armor is, the face is always a difficult place to protect. It is a place where people need to breathe, have a field of vision, and even make sounds. At this distance, those of them who are already skilled archers can almost all hit the eye socket!

In an instant, the enemy's officers and standard-bearers were caught in the crossfire, precisely targeted and killed by concentrated fire. Meanwhile, the elite armored soldiers led by Karila launched fierce attacks, tearing apart and killing the enemies whose officers had been eliminated. The front line visibly began to falter.

The cooperation between the two forces was almost immediately effective. The originally tough enemy formation was now being ravaged and torn apart, and their previously stable morale immediately plummeted.