Chapter 319: Chapter 242 Avton Battle (Part 3)
In just three short hours, the initial forty-thousand-strong “First Defense Line” army was now reduced to just over ten thousand.
They were mostly personal guards from various families in the North, tightly bound to the war chariots of the northern nobility, with many of them holding titles of knights.
They knew that surrender would not bring them any benefits; in fact, their fate would be even more tragic, implicating their families as well.
Among them were over three thousand Heavy Armored Cavalry from the Boske Duchy, nearly seven thousand elite Spear and Shield Soldiers, and more than two thousand archers.
However, they suddenly realized that not only had the frontline crumbled, but the Ashen Kingdom’s vanguard troops had already broken through the fragile defenses at the pass, infiltrating the duchy’s interior from the flanks, appearing like ghosts behind them, completely surrounding the remnant force of ten thousand stubborn soldiers.
This was no longer just a battlefield decision error, but a complete crushing in terms of speed, intelligence, tactics, and even the entire military system.
...
—When the northern nobles were still indulging in the dream of defending the natural barriers, the Ashen Kingdom’s troops had already, through land and air coordination and the cooperation of the “Nocturne” intelligence system, swiftly completed the encirclement of this army. They even used psychological warfare to cause the enemy’s morale to collapse before the battle started.
They intended to fight a war of annihilation.
Looking at the menacing legions ahead, then turning around to see the eyes glowing eerily behind them,
finally, Roland Boske fell into utter despair. He stared blankly into the distance, shaking his head continuously.
“No, it’s impossible,”
“Things shouldn’t be like this,”
“I should have won a glorious victory, and then, leveraging this victory, defeated my brother to become the rightful heir of the Boske House…”
In such a dire situation, he was already somewhat incoherent.
It wasn’t until his adjutant reminded him that he barely snapped back to reality.
“Sir, what… what should we do?”
From afar came the overwhelming voice of the Red Dragon, filled with a sense of oppression. However, at this moment, the voice seemed to carry a trace of frivolity, which made Roland even more furious, yet he had no solution.
“Time is running out.”
“Ten.”
“Nine.”
“Sir, what should we do?”
“Damn that evil dragon! How dare he treat us this way! And those despicable beasts!”
“When the war is over, I will kill them all!”
As the countdown approached its end, the pressure became increasingly heavier.
Under this immense pressure, Roland had completely lost his sanity, resorting to cursing.
Even within the army ranks, the elite private soldiers raised by the nobility, and even the officers who held knightly titles and were granted land, some could not withstand the pressure and fled the battlefield.
Even the soldiers remaining in the trenches trembled, drenched in sweat, having lost the will to fight.
On the Ashen Kingdom’s side, the eyes of Goblin and Ogre troops were already gleaming with ferocity. They could not wait to tear the enemy apart, to relish the rare thrill of slaughter. More importantly, they sought to achieve military merit on the battlefield, aspiring to become noble Dragonblood Nobility.
As for failure?
That was never within their consideration. It could only be regarded as a cold joke, one that could be published in the humor column of the Kingdom Daily.
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“I’ve already given you a chance. It’s just a pity that you didn’t cherish it.”
That voice was exceptionally calm, as if stating the most ordinary fact.
“So… crush them.”
Instantly, with the Red Dragon’s final command, the entire wasteland seemed to boil.
“Crush them!”
“For the Ashen Kingdom!”
“Fight for the great Red Dragon!”
The War Drums of the Half-Goat People pounded rhythmically. The screeches of the wyverns were chaotic and harsh, while the war cries of the Goblin and Ogre troops were as fierce as blazing flames. The heavy sounds of cannon wheels rolling across the ground echoed.
This chaotic mix of sounds, representing the kingdom’s military might, resonated across the wasteland, causing the surrounded enemies to tremble with fear.
In the rear Ogre Cannon Battalion, the Ogre Bighead, who served as the artillery commander, was about to issue the order to bombard the enemy camp when he was personally stopped by the Goblin Marshal Dolores.
“Hold on, there’s no need to waste artillery shells here. If we end this too quickly, it won’t be fun.”
“They haven’t tasted blood in a long time.”
Dolores looked at the seemingly sturdy human defenses in the distance, a sinister smile spreading across his face.
In fact, Dolores had more than these considerations. He also wanted to keep these artillerymen as a trump card until the end, not giving the Northerners a chance to respond in advance.
This so-called “war” was more like a routine infantry drill. He hadn’t even deployed the Drake Riders nor activated the Wyvern Legion, only sending those soldiers armed with semi-automatic rifles to charge forward.
Roland stared intently at the advancing formidable troops, sweat pouring down his forehead in large drops, his face contorting with fear.
“Stop them!”
“Hurry, you fools, get to the front!”
However, after multiple reminders from the adjutant, he finally calmed down, starting to think of corresponding tactical countermeasures based on the battle knowledge he had learned since childhood.
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Roland, with eyes full of gloom, watched the enemy closely, but he suddenly realized that they didn’t launch a cavalry and spear and shield soldier charge as anticipated. Instead, they put their most vulnerable riflemen at the front to charge.
This was undoubtedly a tactical contempt from the enemy, but it also gave Roland a valuable opportunity—an opportunity to achieve results.
As the commander of this war, he naturally studied the Ashen Kingdom’s army through magic images.
Those long poles known as “rifles” were powerful long-range weapons, but their drawback was that they required a long time to reload, leaving them unable to respond to an enemy charge during this interval.
And he had three thousand of the finest Heavy Armored Cavalry under his command, enough to tear through these vulnerable riflemen.
With that in mind, Roland skillfully mounted his horse, donning his helmet adorned with lion’s mane.
“Summon all cavalry, prepare for a collective charge!”
“Have the archers cover us.”
“Yes, sir.”
The herald hurried to the cavalry position to convey the commander’s orders, while the adjutant also donned his full body armor.
“How dare they underestimate me like this.”
“I will make them pay.”
Roland gritted his teeth, unable to suppress a cold sneer.
He knew that after losing most of his troops, this might be an unwinnable war.
But he wanted to teach those who dared underestimate Roland Boske a lesson and make himself a figure worthy of being recorded in the family genealogy, even in the history of the North.
“The lion of the Boske House, even in death, will bite off your arm.”
He lowered the heavy faceplate of his helmet, thinking fiercely to himself.