The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 315

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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 (315)
After Belkain’s departure, the air in Wolfheim had subtly transformed.
The Northern Region’s wind remained bitterly cold, and the Training Ground was just as chaotic as ever.
Yet the tension flowing through it had become entirely different from before.
“Again!”
Crash!
With the sharp command, the sound of shields colliding reverberated through the air.
“Too slow! A single beat of hesitation means death!”
The Instructor’s cry tore through the atmosphere.
The new recruits of the Silent Spear Battalion clenched their teeth.
Their breath came in ragged gasps, yet no one stopped.
Or rather, they couldn’t stop—that was the more accurate assessment.
The training had grown harsher, but the senior Squad Members pursuing it with such grim determination made it impossible to falter.
‘I’m going to die…!’
‘When does this end…?’
The arm gripping the Shield felt as though it might tear away from the socket.
With each passing moment, the impacts came faster and harder.
With every successive blow, consciousness threatened to slip away.
But then.
“Enough!”
As Bartell, who oversaw the training, cried out, everyone stood in place, breathing heavily.
Bartell spoke.
“Training ends here for today. Everyone wash up and prepare for evening meal.”
“Yes…! Understood!”
With a loud affirmation, the dismissed Squad Members hurried to wash away the sweat and finished their evening meal.
The grueling day had ended.
And inside the Barracks.
“Ahhhhh…!”
“Uuuhhhhh….”
Terik and Bran collapsed onto their Beds as though their legs had given out.
They could barely maintain their own bodies.
Despite having showered, sweat continued to pour from their heated skin.
Their Muscles throbbed as if being torn apart, and they lacked the strength to move a single finger.
But then, Marron trudged over to Terik’s side.
He was in a similar state, yet he still found it more comfortable to remain beside his peer amid the lingering chaos.
Marron sat on the edge of the Bed, breathing heavily.
“It feels like… the training has gotten even harder.”
His voice was barely audible, as though even speaking was a burden. But Terik, lying face-down, turned his head slightly to look at Marron.
“Ugh… I have no strength left to move. I’m confident I could fall asleep in three seconds right now, seriously….”
At those words, his younger peer Bran laughed weakly.
“Me too.”
“Same here….”
In that moment, all three of us wanted nothing more than to collapse without a single thought.
But then it happened.
“Everyone, attention.”
As the door opened, a low voice cut through the Barracks like a blade.
The air shifted instantly.
Kamarkan, Platoon Leader of 1st Company’s 3rd Squad.
The moment he entered, those lying down reflexively pushed themselves upright.
Straightening their backs, they sat on their Beds.
The gasping breaths from mere moments before vanished in an instant, replaced by perfect posture.
Kamarkan slowly swept his gaze across the Barracks.
“I am well aware that the current training is proving somewhat arduous.”
His words were measured.
Yet the weight they carried was far from light.
“But understand this moment.”
He paused briefly.
“This is the happiest and safest situation you will experience in your military life.”
The Barracks fell silent.
Everyone felt the meaning behind those words.
Kamarkan.
He too had changed.
When he first joined this Unit, he had been violent and rough, like a raging storm.
But now, he bore the gaze of a Commander responsible for an entire Squad.
Kamarkan continued.
“This remains classified for now….”
His voice dropped even lower.
“But it seems something has occurred in the Northern Region.”
In that instant, the eyes of the veteran Squad Members gleamed sharply.
They understood what Kamarkan’s words implied.
Though they had been training peacefully in the territory for some time, the Northern Region had always been a place of constant warfare.
Kamarkan pressed on.
“It is possible…that we may soon be called to deploy.”
The moment those words fell, the air in the Barracks hardened like stone.
The new Squad Members swallowed involuntarily at the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Gulp.
But the veteran Squad Members bore sharp gazes, as though they were prepared to march onto the Battlefield at any moment.
Kamarkan looked at them and spoke.
“So throw yourselves into training with all your might. Improve from yesterday, and strive to learn even one thing more.”
His gaze swept across the newcomers.
“I’ve only just gotten to know these soldiers… I don’t want to lose them already.”
The Barracks fell silent.
No one spoke.
Only the subtle sound of each person’s breathing echoed through the space.
And within that silence, everyone felt it.
Something was approaching.
All of Wolfheim.
“….”
A strange tension began to spread.
* * *
Beneath the slate-blue sky, the wind descending through the Gorge cut far more sharply than it did during the day.
Torches swayed in the breeze, casting long, distorted shadows, and beneath them the soldiers moved with frantic urgency.
Yet at the heart of the Preldior Camp.
The air within the Command Tent hung heavier than anywhere else.
A Map lay spread across the Table.
Beside the red Flag pinned upon it, a blue Flag stood at a distance, marking a position.
Belkain gazed at the Map, his eyes fixed upon the Gracekal Mine.
‘What has happened to those bastards…?’
From the moment he heard the Scout’s report returning from the Gracekal Mine, a strange sense of déjà vu had begun to creep over him.
As if from long ago….
An unease he seemed to have experienced somewhere before, that something.
Though he could not pinpoint its cause, his mind seemed to issue a warning.
The Kar Tribe’s movements—different from anything before.
This was no situation where he could make any decision lightly.
“Commander.”
An Officer who entered the Command Tent bowed his head as he spoke.
Belkain lifted his gaze.
“When do the reinforcements arrive?”
A brief, measured question.
“According to estimates, in five days, sir.”
When the ten thousand troops dispatched from the Capital arrived, combined with the forces stationed at Preldior, they would number sixteen thousand.
One might argue such a force was somewhat excessive, yet from experience, he knew that when considering the variables that arose in the Northern Region, this number was far from abundant.
Belkain nodded, then questioned the Officer before him.
“What became of the Soldiers who survived from the Reconnaissance Unit?”
“That is….”
A moment of silence descended upon the Command Tent.
The Officer’s expression hardened, and Belkain’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
That silence already spoke the answer.
The Officer, after a pause, replied carefully.
“…We could not save them.”
At that single sentence, Belkain’s eyes shut tight.
“I see.”
In that moment, the final image of the surviving soldier flashed before him.
Bearing fatal wounds across his back and the rear of his thighs, barely clinging to life… struggling to convey even one more word.
And then losing consciousness after pouring out the mission he had to accomplish.
To reach this place, he had burned everything he had.
Belkain slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze had turned cold and sharp.
“Claw.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Once this battle ends….”
It was an order delivered low, yet unmistakably clear.
“First, extend condolences to the families of the Reconnaissance Unit members.”
“Understood.”
“And especially to the bereaved family of the soldier who returned and made his report—Claw, you will go to them personally.”
That command carried meaning far beyond a simple instruction.
It was to honor his responsibility and remember the nobility of his final moments.
At that order, Claw nodded with resolute eyes.
“I will do so without fail.”
Belkain’s hand resting on the table clenched, forming a tight fist.
And as Belkain’s gaze fixed upon the Gracekal Mine, fury descended into his eyes.
Belkain spoke.
“The moment the Army arrives, I will advance our forces into the Gracekal Mine. And.”
His voice sank low.
“Not a single one will be left alive.”
At those words, the Officer and Claw fell silent, watching Belkain.
It had been a long time since they had seen Belkain consumed by such fury.
Belkain, Supreme Commander of the Empire.
His wrath began to spread across the Northern Region once more.
* * *
The Lord’s Castle of Wolfheim.
The Office, enclosed by thick stone walls, was silent.
The light filtering through the window was faint, and only the sound of wind blowing from outside occasionally swept through the space.
At that window, Arteon stood gazing outward.
With arms crossed, Arteon remained silent for a long while.
Though his gaze was directed toward the window, his eyes seemed to look beyond it, sinking deep into thought.
Lost in contemplation, he stood motionless.
But as a knock came and Isaac entered the Office, Arteon turned his head.
“Unit Commander.”
“Did you find out what I asked you to investigate?”
“Yes. The gathering point has been decided as Preldior, and the number of troops dispatched from Central Command is said to be ten thousand.”
“Ten thousand… How many soldiers were already stationed in Preldior?”
“Approximately six thousand.”
That made a total of sixteen thousand.
By the scale of military forces, it was by no means an insignificant number.
At Isaac’s response, Arteon turned his gaze silently toward the window.
But at that sight, Isaac spoke quietly.
“Do not worry too much, sir. Supreme Commander Belkain is with us, after all.”
Though lightly offered, the words carried a clear intent to comfort.
At that, the corners of Arteon’s mouth lifted ever so slightly.
“Is something written on my face?”
“Yes, sir. It reads ‘worried.'”
At Arteon’s words, Isaac smiled faintly. But Arteon soon exhaled a sigh.
“Hah.”
A brief breath escaped, yet his heart remained unsettled.
The Kar Tribe.
That name held profound significance for me.
Yet now, what troubled me was not mere emotion.
“Those who have remained silent all this time… the fact that they suddenly move like this troubles me.”
His voice fell low and heavy.
Isaac’s expression hardened as well.
That the Kar Tribe, driven back to Preldior, was moving again meant…
‘Either they have recovered from the damage they sustained…’
Or.
‘They have confidence in fighting once more.’
Arteon’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
The feeling that something was being overlooked weighed heavily on his heart.
Soon, a brief silence settled over the Office.
With that silence, I considered various scenarios, yet no satisfying answer emerged.
But then.
Arteon turned his head toward Isaac and asked.
“By the way, who is the commander of the troops being dispatched from Central Command?”
Isaac answered immediately.
“A warrior who was newly rated as 6-Star, it is said. His name is… Piolak Beurin.”
“Beurin?”
Arteon paused for a moment.
The name Piolak was unfamiliar, but I had heard of the Beurin household before.
My past life.
They were a prestigious martial family within the Empire, renowned enough that word of them reached even my ears in the Northern Region.
Yet something felt unsettling.
‘…Beurin.’
A thought flickered through my mind for a moment.
A noble house that had produced warriors of great merit to the Empire throughout history.
And if someone had reached the 6-Star rank, their ability as a warrior would be formidable indeed.
An inexplicable sensation continued to gnaw at the corner of my heart.
An unease I could not articulate.
Arteon closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
“…If it’s that person, there should be no problem.”
With those words, as if to convince myself.
Swish.
Arteon’s gaze fixed toward the Northern Region where Preldior lay.

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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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