The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 316

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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 (316)
The frozen north.
Between endless expanses of snowy plains and dark stone cliffs that rose like jagged teeth.
The Kar Tribe Territory was situated upon land that ordinary people would hesitate to set foot upon.
The sky hung low and ashen, while wind howled through the Gorge without direction or mercy.
Snow dust drifting through the air blurred vision and obscured the contours of everything around it.
Within that harsh and unforgiving environment, the Kar Tribe’s Camp stood rooted as though anchored to the earth itself.
And beneath it.
More than five thousand Kar Tribe Warriors lived together as a village.
Within the largest Tent at its center.
“What is the status?”
A low, heavy voice resonated through the space.
A Kar Tribe Warrior bearing a long scar that cut vertically across one eye sat in his place.
The moment his words fell, the figure standing before him immediately bowed deeply.
“The mining operations at the Mine are proceeding smoothly, and raw materials are being gathered according to plan. At this pace, we should be able to secure a substantial quantity within the month.”
It was a measured report.
“…I see.”
Though brief, the response carried the weight of all the time that had passed.
Since the Battle of Preldior, the Kar Tribe had undoubtedly changed.
They who had always been on the offensive were pushed back for the first time, and in that process, they came to understand how much they had been overlooking.
Raw force alone, no matter how relentlessly applied, was insufficient. They had accepted the truth that sustained warfare required preparation and resources.
And now, that transformation was manifesting in visible results.
It was then that the air within the Tent settled into quietness.
Knock, knock.
A brief knocking sound echoed.
He shifted his gaze toward the entrance.
“Enter.”
With permission granted, the Tent flap opened and a man stepped inside.
He was perhaps in his mid-twenties at most, yet his eyes possessed a composure and depth that belied his years.
He approached several paces, took his position, and spoke in a low voice.
“The Imperial Army has begun to move.”
The moment those words fell, the air within the Tent grew heavier still.
After a brief silence.
“Then it is time to begin.”
He rose slowly from his seat.
The Cloak draped across his shoulders slipped down to the ground with a whisper, revealing his upper body.
His chest and back were crisscrossed with countless scars.
As though they were the record of every Battlefield he had traversed.
But what stood out even more distinctly than that was.
A soft sound.
Seven feather tattoos were etched into my left shoulder.
A mark proving I was among the strongest warriors—one of only nine in the entire Kar Tribe to bear such a distinction.
Morganteron of the Haryakunthal Tribe.
Taman of the Haryakunthal Tribe rose from his seat and looked down at the man before him with a question.
Evidence that one of the long-laid plans within the Kar Tribe had finally borne fruit.
Morganteron spoke.
“So then… what is the operation, Military Strategist?”
Until now, there had never been anyone within the Kar Tribe called a “Military Strategist.”
It made sense.
They had always hunted and fought by instinct alone.
Even what could be called tactics were merely lessons learned from surviving on the battlefield.
But this man was different.
He had graduated at the top of his class from the Baltireon Tactical Academy of the Hollendrum Kingdom, an institution renowned across the continent for producing exceptional strategists.
It was because of this man that they had attacked the Gracekal Mine, distant from the reclaimed Preldior, rather than striking at Preldior itself.
And to Morganteron’s words,
“Now we must draw those bastards onto our stage.”
A slow smile spread across the lips of the man called Military Strategist.
* * *
In the hour when dawn’s air had not yet fully dispersed, the fog blanketing the gorge was slowly scattering.
The severe cold that had persisted through the night lingered still, and soldiers gathered around campfires throughout the camp to warm themselves.
Above it all, the movement of a massive force that had just arrived threw the entire camp into bustling activity.
Ten thousand troops dispatched from the Capital.
Their orderly formation, meticulously maintained equipment, and unwavering momentum truly lived up to the name “Central Army.”
At the vanguard, a man rode on horseback into the camp.
Piolak Beurin.
Rumors of his recent ascension to 6-Star had already spread, so many soldiers turned their gaze the moment he entered.
“Hmm… is this the Preldior Camp?”
Upon entering the camp, Piolak’s brow furrowed slightly at the facilities, which were more dilapidated than expected.
But soon after, he surveyed the surroundings to grasp the camp’s layout and defensive measures as thoroughly as possible.
The disposition of the soldiers as well.
He halted his horse upon seeing Belkain, who had come to greet him, and dismounted immediately.
“Thank you for the long journey, Lord Piolak.”
A calm and weighty voice.
Piolak descended from his horse and bowed respectfully.
“It is an honor to meet the Supreme Commander of the Empire.”
Though formal, his greeting was as courteous as possible.
Though not of noble birth, he was a man who had risen to Supreme Commander of the Empire by achieving the greatest merits in recent times.
Piolak’s gaze quickly swept up and down Belkain.
It would be best to confirm directly what manner of man he was.
“Come inside. The weather in this Northern Region is far too harsh to conduct our conversation in the open.”
“Of course.”
Piolak Beurin followed Belkain toward the Conference Room Tent.
Once inside, the two men brushed the snow from their eyes with light gestures.
Belkain, now seated, spoke to Piolak Beurin.
“The Beurin Family has produced yet another exceptional warrior. I hear you’ve recently been recognized as reaching the 6-Star realm.”
“Yes, thanks to the Empire’s excellent system, one’s abilities can now be verified without stepping foot on the battlefield. Of course, I’ve already thoroughly proven myself through actual combat.”
His voice brimmed with confidence.
Had he not recently distinguished himself in small-scale skirmishes and proven his worth?
To that, Piolak Beurin continued.
“That’s what makes this so promising. To stand on the battlefield alongside Supreme Commander Belkain, the most respected figure in the Empire right now.”
“…It’s merely inflated reputation. Such fame won’t save your life on the battlefield.”
“True, but have no fear. Whoever stands before my blade will kneel.”
At those words, Belkain’s expression hardened slightly.
A noble bloodline, successive victories, and the current momentum of ascension.
Confidence in all of it was admirable, but if it tipped into arrogance, the battlefield was a place where irreversible tragedy could strike in an instant.
Belkain spoke.
“One thing you must be cautious about. The Kar Tribe, whom we dismiss as barbarians, possesses combat power far greater than you might think.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll annihilate them without leaving a single one standing.”
His words carried no hesitation, no wavering whatsoever.
Belkain fell silent for a moment, simply observing him.
There was something—an ominous foreboding he couldn’t simply overlook.
Slowly, Belkain opened his mouth.
“The Northern Region is not as simple as you believe it to be.”
The air grew heavier.
“The Kar Tribe exhibits movements that differ from the combat methods we know. Especially in this case… far more so.”
It was a warning.
Yet Piolak Beurin’s expression remained unchanged.
“I am fully accounting for that as well.”
His voice was calm, but his conviction did not waver.
“Though the environment and terrain are unfamiliar, I’ve always prepared myself to fight even in places with so many eyes watching.”
His gaze turned toward Belkain.
“War ultimately concludes through strength, after all.”
A brief silence.
His words could not be called wrong.
But Belkain knew that strength alone was insufficient.
“…Still, complacency is dangerous.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Piolak Beurin nodded in acknowledgment.
At that, Belkain rose from his seat and spoke.
“For now, you must be weary from your long journey. Let us reconvene in council tomorrow.”
“Thank you for your consideration.”
As Piolak Beurin bowed and stepped out of the Command Tent, Belkain, left alone, exhaled softly.
And the next morning.
The officers of the army, including the two of them, gathered in the Command Tent.
A map lay spread across the table.
Belkain spoke first as he studied it.
“It would be best to strike the mine head-on while simultaneously flanking with troops from this side.”
Belkain’s explanation continued as he pointed across the map.
“While the Main Force draws their attention from the front, General Piolak Beurin will drive in from the flank and shatter their Formation. Simple, but… in our current situation, it’s the most reliable approach.”
Piolak Beurin studied the map for a moment.
Given the terrain, there were indeed few alternative attack routes available.
The operation Supreme Commander Belkain proposed seemed the most effective.
And above all.
‘I can demonstrate my prowess… decisively.’
While the Main Force bought time, ultimately how decisively the troops under his command could penetrate the flank would determine everything.
That was the crux of the operation.
It was an operation that could only proceed because they acknowledged his ability to that extent.
Piolak Beurin nodded with a faint smile.
“I agree.”
“What do the rest of you think?”
“I also believe that is the best approach.”
“I share the same opinion.”
Most were in agreement.
“However… if that’s the case, the burden on General Piolak Beurin entering from the flank will be quite substantial… will you be alright?”
Someone voiced their concern carefully, looking toward Piolak Beurin.
Belkain turned his gaze to look at Piolak Beurin.
“Are you confident?”
And to that question.
“I will show those bastards exactly what Imperial warfare means.”
Piolak Beurin rose from his seat as he spoke.
A movement that suggested the matter was settled.
Belkain regarded him.
“Then I shall entrust the flanking attack to General Piolak Beurin.”
There was some unease, but such situations were not uncommon on the Battlefield, were they?
Rather than hesitation, pushing forward decisively might prove the better course.
Belkain spoke.
“We deploy at dawn tomorrow. We will advance our troops toward the front of Gracekal Mine, assess the situation there, and then commence the operation.”
“Understood.”
“Yes, understood!”
With the operation established, all the officers responded with resolute expressions.
Now… only the advance remained.
And so, the next day.
Buuuuuuuuuu!
Early dawn.
As the Horn sounded to announce the deployment, the soldiers began to move forward.
Their destination: Gracekal Mine.
The eyes of the soldiers marching onto the battlefield burned with fierce intensity, while the cold northern wind swept across them.
And at the center of it all.
“….”
Belkain, the Supreme Commander of the Empire, pushed aside his lingering unease and advanced toward Gracekal Mine alongside his soldiers.

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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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