The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 319

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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 (319)
The air before the Mine hung heavy and oppressive.
Terrain blanketed in ashen stone, cliffs jutting forth at intervals, and undulating hills carved the landscape.
Across the level ground stretching between them stood the Imperial Army’s Formation, arranged with meticulous precision.
“Indeed… the Empire, then.”
A low murmur of admiration escaped Berkal’s lips.
It was not merely the abundance of troops.
Their movements, their spacing, their positioning.
Everything interlocked with such exacting accuracy that merely observing it felt threatening.
As though the Formation itself were a colossal Spear and Shield combined.
The Shield Bearers in the front line formed a rampart at uniform intervals, and behind them Archers stood in perfect lines of death.
Mounted cavalry held position on the flanks, ready to move at any moment, while supplies and reserve troops occupied the Rear without a single gap.
A Formation devoid of any weakness.
And at its center.
‘Belkain.’
Berkal’s gaze naturally turned toward the heart of the Formation.
The Commander’s Base Camp likely stood there.
I could not see it, yet I felt it.
Where the presence orchestrating this entire flow resided.
Berkal recalled the countless simulations he had run in his mind while standing here.
How to respond should Belkain move.
How to apply pressure in turn.
Yet despite envisioning every possibility, facing it directly felt different.
As though someone held a Sword beneath my throat.
“Is this the Supreme Commander of the Empire.”
A suffocating pressure—one misstep and everything would crumble.
Yet Berkal’s lips slowly curved upward.
Formidable as this Commander was, the current situation held one crucial advantage.
It favored me.
Berkal spoke.
“As time passes… it is they who will grow impatient.”
His gaze turned toward the terrain surrounding the Mine.
Rugged stone country.
Gorges and Slopes concealed throughout.
For those entering from without, it was Hell itself.
Yet for us, it was familiar ground.
Were we not born, raised, and hardened in battle upon this very land?
Every step was calculated, and no matter how skilled Belkain was as a Supreme Commander of the North.
‘The Soldiers and Warriors under his command… they cannot be accustomed to this place.’
Moreover, the very achievements thus far could become a source of pressure upon Belkain himself.
“The Supreme Commander of the Empire….”
It was indeed a tremendous honor, yet simultaneously a leash.
So many held great expectations of Belkain, and he would need to deliver results worthy of those expectations.
“For now… I’ll have to endure.”
Berkal’s eyes narrowed as he murmured softly.
The Imperial Army under Belkain’s command was formidable.
But precisely because of that strength, they would seek to advance swiftly… and achieve victory in this war with minimal casualties.
That was surely what many expected of Belkain.
And from that, something would inevitably emerge.
A fatal opening born of impatience.
And then.
Crunch.
Footsteps sounded from behind.
A warrior approached quietly and knelt on one knee.
“I bring a report.”
“Speak.”
“The Imperial Reconnaissance Unit is conducting a search near the Mine.”
Berkal’s gaze settled into perfect calm.
“As expected.”
There was no disturbance whatsoever.
Everything unfolded exactly as he had already envisioned.
“Taman is… proceeding according to the operation, yes?”
A brief question.
Yet the weight contained within it was far from light.
“…Yes, that is correct.”
The warrior answered while struggling to conceal his surprise.
Because it made no sense.
How could this young warrior… no, this figure with a frame far too frail to even be called a warrior.
This young man merely called the Military Strategist.
What could this Military Strategist possibly be, that the great Taman bearing seven Feather Tattoos.
Morganteron would obey such an operation without question.
Confusion stirred within him, yet Morganteron’s absolute command to obey left no room even to voice his doubts.
Berkal spoke in response to the warrior’s answer.
“Continue to track the Imperial Reconnaissance Unit.”
“Yes.”
“And most importantly….”
Berkal’s gaze turned cold and sharp.
“You must not be exposed under any circumstances. Even in the one-in-ten-thousand chance that you are discovered, avoid direct confrontation at all costs.”
“…Understood.”
Nothing made sense.
Why did they have to move so passively before those damned Imperial bastards?
Even with the enemy’s back exposed, why could they not strike to kill—why could they only stand and watch?
But perhaps Berkal had sensed the warrior’s unspoken doubts.
Berkal spoke.
“I know it’s hard to accept, but for now, this is how it must be. So bear with it a little longer and wait.”
“…Understood.”
The warrior who had delivered the report nodded.
“Then move out. If the situation changes, report to me immediately.”
“Yes!”
The warrior cried out sharply, turned, and vanished swiftly into the distance.
Berkal watched until the figure disappeared, then turned his gaze once more.
His eyes fixed again upon the Imperial Army.
And as he regarded them.
“Now… what shall we do, Belkain?”
His voice was calm, as though speaking directly to someone before him.
Perhaps this battle would be the first war to announce his existence to the Empire.
Berkal’s gaze grew as cold and sharp as the frozen north wind.
‘Come.’
Whiiiiing!
A frigid wind swept across the Mine, stirring the flags of the Imperial Army’s formation.
And within that vast current.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!
A subtle shift began within the Imperial Army’s formation.
* * *
An invisible tension hung taut across the front lines surrounding Gracekal Mine.
If one were to name the event that had shaken the entire Continent recently, it would be the emergence of an 8-Star Level Warrior.
Arteon Wolfheim—a being who had reached a legendary realm.
One who possessed the power to completely overturn the tide of battle by mere existence.
Moreover, had not three 7-Star Level Warriors representing three Kingdoms fallen before his hand?
The aftermath was not mere terror, but enough to establish a new standard.
And so, perhaps the world’s evaluation had shifted somewhat.
How to put it.
The way warriors were perceived had risen dramatically.
Now, warriors who wielded 4-Star Level Aura had become somewhat diminished in presence.
With the emergence of an 8-Star Level being, those of lower ranks were paradoxically becoming underestimated.
Yet Belkain clicked his tongue at such sentiment.
The 5-Star Level, above the 4-Star Level.
From the 5-Star Level onward, they possessed transcendent power to the point where calling them human was a stretch.
Reaching the 5-Star Level itself meant becoming a living catastrophe capable of overturning the entire battlefield.
And now.
Standing on the battlefield alongside them was a warrior who had completed 6-Star certification from the Empire—a nation renowned for its exacting standards.
Piolak Beurin.
The greatest hero produced by the Beurin Family, an organization steeped in centuries of history.
Moreover, having recently demonstrated achievements on the battlefield that matched his reputation, his evaluation could not be anything but favorable.
For this reason, Belkain found himself in a somewhat difficult position.
“If tomorrow comes, their defenses will only grow more formidable.”
His voice was quiet yet brimming with conviction.
At Piolak’s words, every officer in the room focused intently upon him.
Piolak continued.
“From the moment we began to establish our Formation… the battle here is already no different from having already commenced.”
The air within the Conference Room grew heavier still.
There was nothing wrong with what he said.
From the instant they had established their Formation, they already knew the Kar Tribe within the Mine was moving with feverish activity.
Because of this, they too had to make their choice swiftly.
….
Belkain gazed down at the Map without speaking.
Gracekal Mine.
The terrain itself was favorable for defense.
Jagged rocky terrain, narrow approaches, and complex passages leading inward.
From an attacker’s perspective, it was nothing short of catastrophic.
Because of this, the operation they had devised was simple, yet they had settled upon the most certain approach.
Moreover….
‘Compared to our supply lines… the Kar Tribe in the Mine would find resupply far more convenient.’
Belkain’s eyes narrowed.
The Imperial Army’s supply lines were long.
Even at the fastest point, it would be Preldior, yet even reaching there with supplies was no simple matter.
Furthermore, to move swiftly, the quantity of materials was hardly abundant.
But the Kar Tribe was different.
This place was their territory, their domain.
Their supply lines were short, swift, and flexible.
And if there was one more thing weighing on his mind.
‘The miners.’
Belkain’s gaze wavered for a moment.
Now that war had begun, the likelihood of Food Supplies reaching the miners held hostage was exceedingly slim.
As time passed, more of the miners would surely perish.
Because the situation was dire, Piolak’s words carried justification that transcended mere Tactics.
“…Hmm.”
Belkain exhaled sharply and lifted his head.
Now was the time to make a decision.
“Sigh.”
Belkain’s long sigh spread through the room, and the officers—along with Piolak Beurin standing before them—fixed their gaze upon him.
A silent pressure seemed to weigh down upon their shoulders.
Yet Belkain was not the sort of commander who would make decisions affecting the life and death of soldiers with such careless indifference.
As if having reached a decision at last, Belkain spoke while studying the map.
“Tonight.”
His voice was resolute.
Every eye in the conference room converged upon him.
“Once darkness falls, we execute the operation.”
In that moment, the very air transformed.
Hesitation had ended.
“General Piolak Beurin, inspect the units that will advance along the flank as planned.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When the forward assault commences, you will advance through the designated route. Minimize any time delay.”
“I have been awaiting that command.”
The corners of Piolak Beurin’s mouth slowly rose.
Truly, the wait of a single day had borne fruit.
By waiting that day, I had gained justification, and the foundation I presented now carried greater weight.
At last, Supreme Commander Belkain’s approval had been granted.
‘Now… it is my turn to demonstrate my worth.’
The Northern Region.
Though it seemed insignificant, these two words held profound meaning within the Empire.
In the past, it had been merely maintained, a place of exile for the worthless and a site of executions.
Yet after Imperial Prince Sedrian and Belkain joined forces to expand the territory, its meaning transformed entirely.
The vast resources pouring forth from the Northern Region had made the Empire ever more prosperous and powerful.
Now the Northern Region was no longer simply a useless, abandoned land.
It had become a place the Empire absolutely must develop and conquer.
And now, with combat in the stagnant Northern Region beginning anew.
Depending on what accomplishments I achieve in this war.
‘My evaluation in the Empire’s future history… will be determined.’
Piolak Beurin’s eyes gleamed with intensity.
The moment Belkain’s command fell, the officers in the conference room began moving with urgency.
Messengers carrying orders ran forth, and the officers likewise began commanding their respective units.
Along with them, soldiers moved about in bustling activity.
The Imperial formation, which had been momentarily stalled, began to stir and move once more.
Yet within that movement, Claw gazed at Belkain with anxious eyes and spoke.
“Commander, the Reconnaissance Unit still has not….”
The information remained incomplete, making caution unavoidable.
Moreover, unresolved questions still lingered unaddressed.
But to Claw’s words, Belkain shook his head.
“Sometimes… one must accept such circumstances.”
His tone was calm, yet his voice carried the weight of resolve.
Belkain continued.
“War cannot be waged with perfect precision.”
The battlefield is a living, breathing entity.
It shifts in real time, spawning situations no one could have foreseen.
A Supreme Commander moves his forces while accepting such contingencies—is that not the very nature of the role?
Belkain exhaled heavily.
“For now, all we can do is place our faith in General Piolak Beurin.”
Yet one anxiety gnawed at him: a substantial portion of this operation hinged entirely upon whether the unit under Piolak’s command would succeed or fail.
He did not doubt the 6-Star ability the Empire had verified.
‘If we fail, the damage will be catastrophic.’
My gaze turned once more toward the Gracekal Mine.
But in the next moment, my eyes gleamed with sharp clarity.
Most of the wars I had fought carried grave peril.
When had the battlefield ever offered comfort?
The battlefield had always defied my expectations, always betrayed me.
Yet despite this, I had pressed forward and reached this point.
‘There have always been risks.’
I had never begun a war believing I would lose.
This war would be no different.
We would prevail.
“Let me show them once more what the Empire truly is.”
What defeat they suffered at our hands a year ago.
“Gather the soldiers. We attack now.”
“Yes, understood.”
With Belkain’s command, the war at the Gracekal Mine began.

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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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