Chapter 107: For the Empire (3)
Henry’s eyes widened in fear as he stared at the two monstrous constructs descending the hillside, praying to Sigma in his heart, please don’t come here, don’t come here, go to another position.
Fortunately, it seemed the construct had heard Henry’s prayers; one of the monstrous figures walked slowly toward another position. The scorpion crossbow launched arrows wrapped in oil, exploding against the construct like fireworks, leaving behind only a burst of sparks without any real effect.
Unfortunately, the remaining construct was slowly making its way toward Henry’s position.
Thankfully, it was moving particularly slowly; the first force rushing towards Henry’s position consisted of an army of mixed giants and trolls along with several greenskins.
Henry suddenly felt that his earlier prayers had been quite ridiculous; perhaps the construct hadn’t arrived yet, and as a mere mortal, he would have already been turned into pulp by the giants and trolls.
“Whip!”
A sharp sound streaked overhead, and Henry saw a dazzling beam of light striking the giant’s chest, creating a large, charred hole on one side. The giant let out a long wail and dropped the massive wooden club it had been wielding, falling to the ground.
Unable to resist, Henry turned to look back and saw two armored steeds on a small hill, pulling an elegantly decorated carriage. The carriage housed a strange device made of blocks of glass, resembling a lance, and still glimmering with residual light.
He had never seen or heard of such a weapon; it must have been a secret weapon.
But before Henry could feel happy for long, as the giants and trolls surged forward, the miraculous weapon still hadn’t fired its second shot. Just as Henry was able to see the color of one giant’s teeth, the second beam finally shot out, but this time it missed slightly, only hitting the giant’s arm and severing one hand.
The giant, in pain, became even more enraged, dragging the massive club and rushing toward Henry’s lines.
“Steady! Steady!”
Henry raised his shield in front, bending down, a tactical maneuver taught by the army, but how much use would it be against the giant’s sweeping strikes?
“Sigma!”
The veteran halberdier in front shouted Sigma’s name, planting their halberd firmly and aiming the spear tip at the charging giant.
The giant savagely swung its massive club.
“Boom.”
The front row of halberdiers bent low and were sent flying; broken halberds crashed onto Henry’s shield, along with another halberdier.
Henry was knocked staggering; his comrades pushed against his back, preventing him from falling. A low groan of pain came from beneath him, and when Henry looked down, he saw a halberdier with a mangled arm and a deep dent in his side, nearly half of his body crushed.
The lamellar armor on him was of no protection. He was still alive, albeit temporarily, mouth bleeding as he murmured, “Mercy… mercy…”
Henry tightened his grip on his trembling sword and lunged, stabbing it into the opponent’s throat.
The battle right in front of him was devastating, as the halberdiers charged at the one-armed giant, poking and slashing, but only leaving insignificant wounds. The giant went berserk, wildly smashing the massive club. The orcs surged forward, attacking the scattered halberdiers.
A massacre unfolded before Henry’s eyes. As the standard-bearer had his head cleaved off, the remaining halberdiers could no longer hold their position and began to flee.
“Prepare! Advance! Advance!”
The sound of a battle horn rang out.
How could it be possible? To use his short sword against a giant nearly three stories high?
But military orders were like mountains; Henry, standing in the front row, had to move his feet forward, trudging ahead.
The orcs charged at Henry, brandishing knives and axes, screaming as they came.
Henry raised his large shield to meet an orc leaping down to deliver an axe blow. The axe sliced through his shield, exposing a small section of the blade. With a short sword in hand, Henry thrust it securely into the orc’s chest, knocking him down. The orc tried to get up, but Henry quickly slashed again.
He also helped a nearby comrade chop off the head of an orc.
The comrade turned to him, saying, “Good job, Skarly’s sword—”
“Thud!”
The massive club came crashing down, flattening the comrade entirely. Henry saw his comrade’s helmet, crushed and identical to his own design.
The club lifted, sweeping toward Henry.
Henry hurriedly raised his shield, and an enormous force knocked him down. Luckily, he was close to the club; otherwise, it wouldn’t have just been a simple knockdown.
A wailing sound entered Henry’s ears as he lay on the ground, witnessing his comrades being flung into the air and rolling on the ground.
Before he could get up, a greenskin charged over, stepping on his shield, raising an axe high, and roaring, “Eat my axe!”
Henry quickly thrust his sword through the greenskin’s calf, knocking him over, abandoning his shield, and flipping over to pin down the greenskin, stabbing the sword forcefully into his throat.
Screams rang out, “Ahhh!”
Henry had no time to reach for his shield; he saw the one-armed giant grabbing a comrade he recognized by the legs, swinging and smashing him against the shield wall, until the screams stopped. Then, as if tossing out trash, he flung the dead comrade aside.
In a surge of anger, Henry raised his sword and shouted, “Come fight me if you dare!”
Unfortunately, the one-armed giant heard his voice, turning its arrow-pierced face toward Henry, opening its eyes and striding over, brandishing the massive club.
Henry immediately regretted his words.
No, no, don’t come over, don’t come over… What an extraordinary team, hurry and come here, there’s an injured giant.
His mind was sluggish, simply holding his sword in place, desperately wishing the extraordinary team specializing in hunting monsters would arrive.
But the line was so wide, and the enemy so numerous; how could the extraordinary team get here in time?
The giant prepared to swing the club forcefully, and Henry was so scared he almost shut his eyes. Suddenly, the giant let out a cry of pain, kneeling on one knee as a sergeant with a crooked mouth climbed up onto the giant’s shoulder, grabbing its hair with one hand and stabbing his short sword directly into the giant’s single eye.
The giant wailed in agony, reaching for the sergeant. Miraculously, the sergeant managed another stab into the giant’s neck artery before jumping to the ground.
The battered giant, unable to withstand the damage, finally collapsed dead.
Henry almost cried out, shouting, “Sergeant!”
“Very brave, Skarly Sword Saint,” the crooked-mouth sergeant called out, “You distract its attention for me.”
Henry screamed, “Crooked-mouth! Watch out!”
The crooked-mouth sergeant quickly turned to see the towering construct stepping towards him, its shadow engulfing the entire position. The construct raised its blood-soaked foot to stomp on the sergeant.
With a trembling voice, the crooked-mouth sergeant cried out, “No… no… Sigma!!”
Henry was surprised to find he could hear the sergeant’s cries, and even more astonished that he was already starting to run backward.
A thudding sound came from behind him, and Henry was almost knocked to the ground as he glanced back.
The construct raised its foot, and no miracles occurred; no one stood up in the footprint.
Henry fled backward with the other retreating soldiers.
A battle-priest clad in armor, head shaven and shining with steel, planted a flag amidst the fleeing soldiers, shouting:
“Soldiers! Stop! Anyone past this flag will be executed without mercy!”
He lifted a glowing hammer and crushed a soldier who had crossed the line. The fleeing soldiers halted, and Henry stopped as well.
“Whip!”
Another beam of light streaked overhead, hitting the construct, causing a pile of stones to fall, crushing humans and greenskins below.
“You will rest here for ten minutes, then return to the battlefield immediately,” the battle-priest of Sigma ordered. “You must hold back the greenskins following the construct! Someone will deal with the construct!”
Henry understood; they had to endure the trampling of the construct and fight the greenskins.
Groups of properly armored halberdiers and sword-and-shield soldiers advanced alongside him toward the construct.
Among them, a hundred-man spear squad aimed their weapons at the fleeing soldiers.
Henry swallowed and shouted, “Understood!”
The battle-priest raised his glowing war hammer, making his shining bald head even more blinding, and shouted, “Forward! Victory will be ours! For the Empire!”
The soldiers shouted in unison, “We are the descendants of Sigma!”
The orderly formations of the Empire advanced toward the nearby bloody slaughterhouse.
…
…
Jima floated two meters above the edge of the cliff, surveying the grim battlefield.
Her vantage point was excellent, allowing her to see the full scope of the battle.
She observed the giant swordsmen engaging in combat with the black orcs, saw half-griffon knights attacking from the flank, converging with the dwarves guarding the hilltop to seize several runic catapults. The knights used dimensional space bags to bring in oil and stone bombs, bombarding the greenskin army with the runic catapults.
She also witnessed the Empire’s secret weapons—five carriages, allegedly named “Light Magic Vehicles,” capable of firing horrific beams, targeting the giants and the constructs.
But these small victories on the battlefield didn’t have much impact on the overall situation.
The Light Magic Vehicles were destroyed by a greenskin warlord known as Beasts, mounted upon a wyvern, smashing two of them. The remaining three vehicles’ firepower was nowhere near enough against the constructs that had already infiltrated the Empire’s rear.
To Jima, it seemed that even with all five intact, it would be futile; the greenskins not only had constructs and giants, but also a large spider.
The Empire was on the verge of defeat, and miracles were not happening. The remaining two constructs were wreaking havoc in the Empire’s rear, grinding fresh flesh like the minions of a blood god. The greenskins surged toward the disordered lines or the demoralized humans, mercilessly slaughtering.
At this point, the Empire’s army was like a person with a massive gaping wound in their abdomen, with two constructs still bouncing around inside.
Jima shook her head, having no intention to call for George, instead holding her binoculars and searching for Jenna.
Below, the Empire’s army pressed all their infantry forward, led by the battle-priest, toward the constructs. Even the fleeing soldiers were driven back to the battlefield.
Jima suddenly understood the intentions of the Empire’s army.
The constructs stopped scattering the formations, and ordinary soldiers sacrificed their lives to attract the attention of the constructs, allowing the extraordinary ones in the Empire’s ranks to swarm against the constructs like ants. Then, with their bodies and blood, they could delay the greenskins behind the constructs, giving the remaining Light Magic Vehicles a chance to take down the constructs.
This was the only way the Empire had left; it was the only option, even magic would fail, as the battlefield had frequently employed army-grade spells, making it increasingly difficult to cast in the future, thus relying solely on the flesh and blood of the soldiers.
“Useless,” Jima muttered, shaking her head. “Though sacrifice is the foundation of the Empire, what chance is there of winning?”
As her words fell, one of the constructs finally collapsed, and the falling stones buried both the humans and greenskins fighting below.
At the same time, a beast riding a wyvern more than four meters high smashed the last Light Magic Vehicle, the wyvern biting the controlling mage in half.
Around the last construct lay a sea of corpses, the greenskin tide closing in fast, threatening to drown the Empire’s army.
Even though the situation was dire, Jima didn’t rush to save Jenna. If she forcibly pulled Jenna away at that moment, she knew Jenna would likely blame her. As the saying goes, it’s better to arrive late than to arrive poorly.
She intended to wait until the Empire’s army was completely defeated, until the greenskins rode war pigs and savagely harvested fleeing human lives; then it would be time to act.
The definitive sign of the Empire’s comprehensive defeat would surely be the moment the Emperor fled on his steed.
Jima’s gaze locked onto the Empire’s Emperor, already mounted on his lion griffon named Death Claw, darting around like a firefighter, sometimes trying to restrain the beasts with wyverns.
After waiting for over ten minutes, he showed no sign of escaping.
“Why hasn’t he fled yet?”
Jima was certain he could see the entire battlefield from atop Death Claw; anyone with military knowledge could understand that the Empire’s defeat was inevitable.
So why hadn’t he escaped? What was he waiting for? Once his Death Claw was injured and couldn’t fly, he would surely face death, as the beast-warriors would not spare the Empire’s Emperor.
…
…
“Do you dare to kill my soldiers?!”
With a roar of fury, Henry, who had narrowly escaped death, saw the last construct on the battlefield collapse. He lifted the shield he had picked up and shielded himself from the spreading dust.
As the dust settled, Henry saw from a distance the Empire general with arms hanging down, standing atop the giant mask of the construct. The general was covered in dust, and it was difficult to distinguish the black, white, and red feathers on his helmet.
Henry recognized him; it was the general who had recruited him into the army.
But there was little joy in his heart.
So many had died on the construct; the general was surrounded by layers of corpses, and the number of greenskins was hardly diminished.
The Empire general raised his magical sword and shouted, “Soldiers! Gather together!”
Henry joined the remaining Empire soldiers, converging toward the general amid the dust stirred up by the construct.
The dust obscured further sights; the setting sun cast the entire cloud of dust in a blood-red hue as distant sounds of continuous roars, pleas, and screams became numbing.
The formation stopped; Henry halted. He no longer recognized the comrades by his side; they were surrounded by corpses, mostly human.
Henry looked at the general standing atop the construct’s remains, a flicker of hope rising within him.
So many had died; victory should be upon them soon.
Distant sounds of hooves echoed. A frightened riderless warhorse charged through the dust, escaping toward Henry. Behind the horse, a massive figure became increasingly clear; when Henry discerned it, his numbed nerves jolted with fear.
He had never seen such a huge, towering spider, and beneath the giant spider were greenskins riding war pigs!
“Charge!”
The Empire general cried out, before being bitten by the giant spider and thrown into the sky, its mouth open wide to catch him.
As for whether it caught him, Henry couldn’t see because he had already turned to flee.
Behind him came the terrifying sounds of armor being crushed and cracking.
Henry was gripped by fear; the riderless warhorse ran past him, and he grabbed the reins, mounting the horse, only then realizing he had never learned to ride and could only allow the frightened horse to carry him away.
Behind him, the sounds of countless people being trampled and slaughtered by hooves resonated. Henry didn’t dare look back; he lowered his head in shame, feeling his hand touch his sword, only deepening his humiliation.
He still wanted to be a Sword Saint, yet here he was, a coward fleeing.
Henry drew his short sword and threw it back with all his might.
Behind him came the sounds of pigs falling and a chorus of astonished cries:
“That kid killed the boss!”
“Get revenge for the boss, boys!”
“Feed him to the spider!”
Henry struggled to turn his head and saw a large group of war pigs and giant spiders leaving the fleeing soldiers to chase after him. He felt like crying but could only vow never again to hurl swords randomly.
As long as he could survive.
