Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 511 92 Act 2_3

...

The Herder's reinforcements really did arrive.

Because the barbarians spared no effort to inform the Paratu People of this fact.

With the arrival of reinforcements, the Herder's army morale soared. They arranged their troops on the southern and northern highlands, with the chieftains all but wishing the Paratu People would come down so they could count each head one by one.

This was, of course, a psychological tactic, crude and simple to the extreme.

But it was indeed effective, as even the most obstinate Paratu person could no longer deny it: the barbarians' reinforcements had truly come.

And the reinforcements of the Paratu People? There was no news of them for the time being.

The White Lion burned two-thirds of the bridge forest, and Alpad also set a fire that turned the White Lion's timber source into ash.

It is exceedingly difficult for trees to reproduce and thrive in the wilderness; a forest may need centuries of time and various fortuitous coincidences to grow, but destroying them is much easier.

The fire Alpad set burned for two days and a night.

If the White Lion wanted to get wood again, they would have to go a hundred kilometers away.

But the Paratu People suffered heavy casualties as well: half of the cavalry squadrons were beaten so badly that they lost the ability to fight, and almost no one was without injuries; the long-distance raiding caused greater losses of warhorses than of personnel.

It is said that Alpad has already sent away the cavalry squadrons' banners and the Fifth Legion's eagle flag.

The cavalry that could still fight were reorganized into nine squadrons—this was a first since the establishment of the legion.

Auxiliaries could be disbanded and reassembled at will, but for the Standing Army, which had a stronger sense of belonging and honor, reorganization was tantamount to the destruction of an honorable collective.

The Paratu People began to consolidate their forces, and the bridge forest camp also received orders to withdraw.

All the usable trees were felled by the logging teams, and the remaining shrubs and saplings were set ablaze.

Afterward, Colonel Robert led everyone to dismantle the bridge forest camp and retreat to the main camp.

Winters' team returned to Jeska's company, and Bard's hundred-men squad was now commanded jointly by him and Mason.

Bard regained consciousness, but he began to run a fever again.

After examining him, Father Caman concluded that Bard had a linear fracture in his skull. His medical advice was brief: rest.

The entire Paratu army contracted to the camps at the Southern Highlands, Northern Highlands, and the main camp.

Sekler and Alpad also knew that they could no longer count on the auxiliaries, so all three camps were defended by the Standing Army.

The auxiliaries were all put to work building bridges, with Jeska's company also assigned to the bridge construction headquarters.

The White Lion's fire rafts had destroyed the bridge, which was originally over 110 meters long, down to less than fifty meters, and the remaining bridge piles also needed to be reinforced.

The Paratu People were pushed to desperation, almost working day and night to repair old bridge piles and drive in new ones.

Meanwhile, the White Lion also launched attacks on the fortresses atop the southern and northern highlands.

There was a siege on the mountain and bridge construction below. Those building the bridge could hear the clash of battle from the slopes, and those on the slopes could hear the sound of the piles being driven.

The torment in the hearts of the Paratu People was indescribable.

It was already too late to build the bridge piles, beams, and deck step by step. In a moment of desperation, the engineer officer had a stroke of genius, proposing "No need to erect beams, just use bridge piles to secure float boxes and rafts, creating a 'floating bridge'." The idea was immediately adopted.

The Paratu engineers stopped building beams.

After driving the wooden piles, they directly secured float boxes, rafts, and boats to the piles. With some roughly laid planks, people could just manage to cross.

The speed of bridge construction greatly increased.

And the battle on the slopes once again proved an unbreakable truth: humans learn all things slowly, except the art of killing, which they learn the fastest.

The Paratu People had never imagined what the White Lion had learned from them.

The Paratu People had blasted the walls of Bianli City three times, and now the barbarians, mimicking them, had begun to use blasting against the Paratu camps.

Their first attempt at blasting, unsurprisingly, produced fireworks.

The second did as well.

The third, too.

At first, the Paratu soldiers were mocking the barbarians, but soon no one could laugh any more.

With practice and continuous improvement, the Herders gradually mastered the knack, and the power of the blasting increased more and more.

The speed at which the barbarians absorbed military technology was so fast that it instilled fear in the hearts of the Paratu People.

The spread of military technology was a hundred, a thousand times more terrifying than the mere circulation of weapons.

Any Paratu who witnessed this scene would no longer question the strategy of suppression that Paratu had employed for the past thirty years. They would only regret not having choked the White Lion's throat more forcefully.

The sound of blasting that was heard almost every day was the best whip, harshly lashing on the backs of the Paratu sappers and auxiliary troops, spurring them to give it their all.

The progress on the bridge was incredibly fast, and it crossed the center of the river again within only two days.

At this point, it didn't matter whether one was Venetian or Paratu Person, or if there were regional biases and clan distinctions, everyone was in the same boat. Lose this battle, and nobody would survive.

Winters also felt as though a blade was pressed against his back, which is why he, just like the lowest-ranking soldiers, picked up an axe and worked feverishly.

The only thing that brought him solace—Bard's fever had subsided.

Father Caman had watched over Bard for one night, and by the next morning, Bard's fever had miraculously broken. However, due to the significant blood loss, he remained very weak and needed rest.

As the bridge piers were now less than fifty meters from the opposite bank, the last thing anyone wanted to happen, happened.

Along with the thunderous sound of blasting, tons of earth mixed with human fragments flew into the sky.

The camp was like hit by a rain of mud, and the bloody mire even spattered near Winters' feet as he was sawing wood.

Winters saw first one man fleeing from the Southern Highlands towards the camp, then two, and finally, troops began fleeing in groups down the hillside.

Even the supervisory forces could not stop this rout.

Without a word, Winters spit twice into his palm and continued to saw the wood with his head down.

In the morning, the camp in the Southern Highlands was overrun.

In the afternoon, the barbarians had pushed their heavy guns onto the Southern Highlands, bombarding the bridge.

In the evening, Lieutenant Colonel Jeska, Winters, and Andre were called to a meeting at the legion's headquarters.

Colonel Laszlo, Lieutenant Colonel Robert, and the surviving Centurions under their command were also there.

Colonel Laszlo was still as calm as a dead man.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert's cheeks had been pierced by a heavy arrow, three of his teeth knocked out, and his wound was stitched with cotton thread.

He couldn't speak, but he nodded at Winters.

Beyond them, there were two Centurions with their heads shaved and red cloth tied around their left arms—officers from the Death Camp.

These were all the troops that Paratu Army had left for one final fight.

Sekler wasted no words and directly informed all the officers present, "Retake the Southern Highlands fortress, tonight. Win and live, or lose and die."

...

In the darkness, Montaigne's century had fully assembled.

Under the dim moonlight, Winters looked over each of his warriors.

Among them were the soldiers he had brought from Wolf Town, boys that had been added from Blackwater Town and Saint Town, as well as farmers and laborers from other Newly Reclaimed Lands.

He could call each man's name and recognize every face.

The battle, the campaign, even the war had reached the moment that would decide life or death.

Winters didn't need to say much; he trusted them, and they trusted him.

Winters' eyes were sore, but the tears swirled in his eyes, stubbornly refusing to fall.

"Scatter, darkness. Fall, stars." A phrase echoed in Winters' mind as he slowly recited, "At dawn, we shall be victorious!"

The cold wind brushed past everyone's clothing, while the Styx flowed silently.

Winters was the first to step into the night: "Move out!"