The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 285

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Mad Spearman of the Northern Front (285)
Upon the Border Plain near the Ermatir Kingdom.
Between gently rolling hills, black flags, crimson banners, and standards bearing azure patterns tore through the wind in a chaotic tapestry.
And across that vast expanse stretched countless soldiers.
Twenty thousand from the Ermatir Kingdom.
Fifteen thousand elite troops from the Seranello Kingdom.
Fifteen thousand heavy infantry from the Kalpol Kingdom.
The clash of armor, the snorts of war horses, and the dull resonance of shields colliding filled the border air.
Standing at the center of it all—a man.
Supreme Commander of the Ermatir Kingdom, Marcelo Belofrokus.
He was the commander who had once marched against the Empire alongside Kaerbaldt.
Gazing upon the overwhelming forces that blanketed the earth, he let out a low chuckle.
“Hehehehehehe.”
Truly, an overwhelming military strength.
‘With this power….’
He drew in a slow breath.
‘There is no possibility of defeat unless Duke Carbain of the Empire himself takes direct action.’
The Imperial Army currently mobilized numbered merely twenty thousand.
More than double the difference in troop strength.
No matter how formidable a warrior might be in shifting the flow of battle, one could not ignore such fundamental numerical disparity.
And above all, it was not merely numerical superiority that they possessed.
Rasion Mertain of the Ermatir Kingdom.
Belotian Aldion of the Seranello Kingdom.
Dorcain Lucet of the Kalpol Kingdom.
Three warriors of mid-to-late 7-Star caliber, each representing their respective kingdoms, now stood upon the same battlefield.
Not drawing blades against one another as before, but rather joining hands and gazing in a single direction.
‘No matter how formidable the Empire’s new warrior may be… there is no way to defeat all three simultaneously.’
Kaerbaldt’s swift destruction had actually proven fortunate for them.
Fear breeds unity.
If Kaerbaldt crumbled so easily, perhaps we shall be next.
That single thought had set Seranello and Kalpol in motion.
Now the three kingdoms were as one body.
At that moment, two figures approached.
The commander of the Seranello Kingdom and the commander of the Kalpol Kingdom.
“All formations are complete. The shield wall is layered threefold, and the rear archers stand ready. We can respond to the Imperial dogs whenever they arrive.”
“Cursed Imperial bastards. Launching an offensive the moment the civil war ends. Those wretches know not how to rest from war.”
Marcelo offered a faint smile.
“Three kingdoms united. We cannot possibly lose. All preparations are already complete.”
The Seranello commander let out a soft laugh.
“Kaerbaldt… foolish wretches. Had they prepared beforehand, they would not have crumbled so easily.”
“They came to us begging for alliance only after their defeat was certain, yet without a shred of desperation. I find myself ashamed to have stood alongside such pathetic creatures against the Empire.”
The Commander of Kalpol let out a derisive snort.
“Let us forget those already vanquished. What matters now is utterly crushing the Imperial forces when they arrive. Should we not show the entire Continent that the Empire is nothing to fear?”
“You speak the truth!”
“Hahahaha!”
The laughter of the three commanders echoed across the Plains.
It was then.
“Commander!”
An Ermatir soldier came rushing forward, covered in dust, his breathing ragged and labored.
Marcelo Belofrokus’s gaze turned glacial.
The soldier dropped to one knee as he spoke.
“The Imperial Army has appeared!”
The laughter ceased.
All three commanders’ eyes snapped toward the forward position.
Far in the distance, a dark line stretched endlessly along the horizon.
Dust columns rose skyward, and the rhythmic movement of organized ranks became visible.
The Imperial Flag.
Despite their advance, the unbroken formation indirectly revealed just how formidable the Imperial Army’s strength truly was.
Marcelo Belofrokus’s eyes grew cold.
The smile vanished entirely from his face.
“…Faster than anticipated.”
Yet immediately after, Marcelo Belofrokus turned his gaze to the two other commanders.
“Then let us begin.”
His hand rose slowly.
“Sound the drums.”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
* * *
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
As the drums thundered from the Allied Forces’ formation, the Imperial soldiers halted their advance.
The distance between them was approximately two hundred meters.
Had a skilled archer loosed an arrow, it would have easily reached them.
The Imperial soldiers stood firm, their expressions hardened as they regarded the Allied Forces.
Among the Silent Spear Battalion members at the vanguard, Kamarkan, of Turak Tribe descent, clicked his tongue.
“Damn… those bastards are incredibly numerous, aren’t they?”
“They seem even more densely packed than those Northern savages…?”
Several squad members shook their heads as they gazed upon the endless stream of Allied soldiers.
Then…
“Damn it… they say there are over fifty thousand of them?”
“O-over fifty thousand…?”
“W-we’re actually going to fight against them…?”
The ordinary soldiers who overheard the conversation among the Silent Spear Battalion members already wore expressions of diminished spirits.
But then it happened.
“Nervous?”
“Eh? Ah, no, sir!”
An ordinary soldier responded loudly to Isaac’s question.
Unlike common infantry, the Silent Spear Battalion already commanded tremendous respect throughout the military.
For him, being addressed by the Sub-Commander of such a unit was nothing short of glory.
Bartell of the Silent Spear Battalion spoke in response to the soldier’s answer.
“Sub-Commander, are you not nervous? There are fifty thousand of them.”
One could not deny it was a formidable number. And yet….
“What does it matter? If each of us kills thirty enemies, we’ll have killed thirty thousand. That makes the numbers nearly equal, doesn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“Hah… As expected of you, Sub-Commander. Your way of thinking is entirely different.”
Several squad members gave thumbs up.
If they each killed thirty enemies as he said, they would indeed slay thirty thousand.
The atmosphere grew quite lively. And then it came.
“Silence! Everyone quiet down!”
With the officers’ shout, the chaotic atmosphere instantly subsided.
Soon, Belkain rode forward on horseback.
To any observer, the battle appeared hopelessly disadvantageous, yet such considerations were irrelevant to him.
Belkain addressed the soldiers.
“Before us now stands a force exceeding fifty thousand strong.”
As Belkain spoke, the soldiers beheld the seemingly endless masses of the Allied Forces.
And yet….
“No matter how vast their numbers, they are meaningless. Before our Imperial Army, they are nothing but straw heaped in great piles.”
Belkain turned his body to gaze upon the Allied Forces as he continued.
“Soon, those Allied Forces will come to understand just how foolish their actions have been.”
Shing!
His sword was drawn, the sharp metallic screech splitting the battlefield.
“This very moment, all the kingdoms across the continent shall learn!”
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
As someone began striking the ground with their spear, soldiers followed in rhythm, striking the earth in unison.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Tension mounted and morale surged skyward, determination blazing in the soldiers’ eyes.
And as Belkain witnessed this sight, he roared.
“That no one—absolutely no one—can dare stand against our Empire!”
“Uaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
The moment Belkain’s speech concluded, the soldiers’ war cry erupted.
A tremendous roar as if the very earth trembled.
With surging morale, Belkain glanced at Claw and gave a nod.
Claw spoke to the officer beside him.
“Issue the order to advance.”
“Understood.”
The moment that command fell.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuuu!
A majestic horn blast tore across the Battlefield.
And at that sound, the Allied Forces soldiers standing in Formation swallowed hard, their expressions grave.
‘Is it coming now…?’
‘Come on then, you damned Imperial bastards.’
The Allied soldiers braced themselves for the imminent clash, gripping their Spears and Shields tightly.
But then.
“…What?”
“What are they doing?”
Suddenly, the Imperial Army’s Formation split left and right, creating a long corridor.
That horn blast from moments ago.
Wasn’t it a signal to Advance?
The Allied soldiers stared at the split Formation with bewilderment.
And through that gap.
Clop, clop, clop.
A single mounted man slowly began to emerge.
And the moment he appeared along the corridor.
“Uaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
The Imperial soldiers’ roar erupted loudly once more.
Watching the commander emerge amid the soldiers’ cheers.
“Is that the rumored 8-Star Warrior?”
“8-Star? Rumors are always exaggerated, aren’t they?”
“And he looks so young…?”
Three Warriors standing at the vanguard of the Allied army each spoke their thoughts.
Particularly, Dorcain Lucet’s expression twisted upon seeing Arteon’s youthful appearance.
Were they daring to mock them?
He already disliked the rumor that had inflated his reputation to 8-Star, but with such a youthful face?
With that appearance, even being generous….
“He doesn’t look like he’s even reached thirty.”
Dorcain Lucet tightened his grip on his Axe.
He felt as though he’d been mocked, and rage surged within him like wildfire.
Then Dorcain spoke to Rasion and Belotian Aldion.
“I’ll crush that Youngster in a single blow…!”
“What?”
“Wait, hold on!”
Rasion tried to say something, but Dorcain was faster.
“Hyah!”
Dorcain Lucet struck his horse’s flank and charged toward Arteon.
‘How dare you… deceive us with a few lucky victories…?’
A battlefield was not something that could be conquered by mere fortune.
What mattered most was experience accumulated over long years, forged in the crucible between life and death.
And yet now, merely….
‘A Youngster who hasn’t even spent ten years on the battlefield dares to strut about with some half-baked martial prowess.’
That arrogance and pride would sever your lifeline.
And the consequences would fall squarely upon the Empire and the Imperial Army as it stands now.
A crimson Aura began to bloom from the Axe gripped in Dorcain’s hand.
An Aura burning with fierce intensity, like flames set upon oil.
A heat that seemed to embody his very nature poured forth.
“I shall end youuuuuuuuu!”
Killing Intent erupted like an explosion from Dorcain’s eyes.
With a roar that rang across the Battlefield, Dorcain rushed at Arteon and swung his Axe.
But….
Shing!
In the moment the two clashed and passed through each other.
“…!”
“Wh-what?!”
Those watching drew in sharp breaths of shock.
Dorcain Lucet, a mid-7-Star Warrior of the Kalpol Kingdom who had clashed with Arteon.
His head had separated from his body and fallen to the Ground.
“No, this can’t be happening!”
The Commander of the Kalpol Kingdom cried out in anguish at the sight of Dorcain with his head severed.
Dorcain Lucet.
He was the strongest Warrior representing the Kalpol Kingdom, possessing the greatest martial might.
Yet for some reason, he had charged forward alone and lost his life in a single Strike.
It was a sight that defied belief even as they witnessed it with their own eyes.
Thud, thud.
Arteon’s horse circled slowly around the spot where Dorcain’s Corpse had fallen.
As the horse came to a stop, Arteon struck Dorcain’s head lying on the Ground forcefully with the flat of his Spear Blade.
Clang!
With the sound of metal ringing, Dorcain’s Severed Head flew toward the Allied Forces’ Formation.
The two remaining 7-Star Warriors at the vanguard.
Rasion Mertain and Belotian Aldion.
The two stared with hardened expressions at Dorcain’s head rolling beneath their feet.
And then.
“Next.”
A voice devoid of emotion, infused with Mana, echoed eerily across the Battlefield.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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