The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 321

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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 (321)
“Gaaaahhhhh!”
Screams overlapped and erupted.
At the mine entrance.
Hundreds of troops were crammed into that narrow space, and death was equally concentrated there.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A battering ram crashed down against the wooden palisade.
Wood splintered, gaps widened, and the structure swayed as if about to collapse.
Yet maintaining this precarious situation was the mission those at the front had to accomplish.
Until Piolak and his unit, who had entered from the left flank, fully penetrated into the mine.
The task was to pin down the Kar Tribe at the mine’s entrance.
But….
“Die! You vermin of the Empire!”
“I’ll crush your skulls!”
With the Kar Tribe’s roar, dozens of boulders rained down from above.
Despite already hurling an enormous barrage, where were they procuring so many rocks?
The Kar Tribe relentlessly continued hurling head-sized chunks of stone downward.
Crunch!
A boulder thrown by the Kar Tribe dented an Imperial Soldier’s helmet.
Skulls cracked and screams filled the air.
“Raise your shields!”
“Higher! Lift them higher!”
Their attacks poured down like a torrential downpour upon the hastily raised shields.
The impact reverberated through the soldiers, and several fell to their knees.
Seizing that opening.
“Raaahhh!”
A spear thrust through the gaps in the palisade, slashing across a soldier’s throat.
One.
Then another.
As time passed, the casualties mounted.
And the speed at which soldiers were dying accelerated.
“….”
The fierce combat situation at the front line.
Belkain’s gaze remained fixed there.
He was deliberately pushing soldiers forward to buy time.
‘…It’s taking too long.’
His eyes narrowed slightly.
By now, the door inside the mine should have already opened.
Piolak and a thousand Elite Troops who had entered from the flank.
The operation had been executed with perfect timing, without a single margin for error.
If all those conditions had aligned, they should have already seized victory by now.
Yet as time wore on, only the casualties among our forces mounted.
Before the forward palisade of the Mine.
At least two hundred or more soldiers lay sprawled across the ground, their blood spreading in all directions.
Corpses piled upon one another like a small hill, and soldiers trampled over them as they clashed with the Kar Tribe Warriors.
“This is….”
Belkain’s jaw clenched tight.
Something had gone wrong—catastrophically wrong.
Then Claw’s cry erupted.
“Commander! We must withdraw the troops! We must retreat!”
Continuing to fight like this would only create meaningless death.
And Belkain knew it too.
Yet the reason I hesitated was singular.
‘Have I truly… failed?’
Belkain gazed toward the Front Line with anxious eyes.
If by some chance Piolak’s unit had entered the Mine through the flank.
‘The moment I withdraw the troops… he becomes vulnerable.’
Because Piolak and his soldiers who had ventured inside could face greater danger instead.
Piolak—a 6-Star Warrior of the Empire.
Moreover, he was a product of the prestigious Beurin Family.
No matter how inexperienced he was in the Northern Region, I didn’t believe such a warrior would fall easily.
Such a small hesitation in this very moment.
As each second and minute passed, it created sacrifices among our soldiers.
Belkain’s brow furrowed.
Could it be that I must consider the worst-case scenario?
There was no more time to delay.
Belkain spoke to Claw.
“Fire the Red Signal Flare immediately.”
“Yes, understood!”
The Red Signal Flare was my final contingency.
It was prepared for the possibility that Piolak’s unit might fail the operation or become isolated, making further advance impossible.
Whoooooooosh!
The Red Signal Flare shot skyward.
It was a withdrawal order not only for the soldiers fighting at the Front Line, but also for Piolak’s unit that would be entering the Mine.
This way, even if the soldiers at the Front Line retreated, the risk of Piolak and his soldiers becoming isolated inside the Mine would diminish.
And then came the sound of the Horn.
Buuuuuuuuuuu!
The final mechanism to ensure this withdrawal proceeded flawlessly was.
“Charge forward!”
“Keep the battering ram straight! Lock your arms and lift with your core!”
“Advance!”
By sending the soldiers positioned directly to the east forward, I would scatter the Kar Tribe’s attention in that direction.
Unlike the forward position, the eastern side of the mine had terrain where breakthrough was virtually impossible.
That’s why we were staging an exaggerated diversion to draw the Kar Tribe’s gaze.
‘That alone would be enough….’
We could redirect their attention, and simultaneously allow the soldiers at the front to retreat more safely.
Yet despite having arranged such a device.
“Aaaahhhhh!”
“Save me!”
Retreating soldiers collapsed, and those supporting them tumbled down alongside them.
“Retreat! Retreat!”
“Support the wounded and fall back! Move quickly!”
The retreat itself was far from smooth.
Under the relentless assault of the pursuing Kar Tribe, some of the retreating soldiers lost their lives.
“Gaaahhhhhhh!”
“Aaaahhhhh!”
Others sustained grievous injuries and had to flee with limping steps.
In that chaos, there were moments when comrades had to be abandoned, and some soldiers who tried to stay together until the end perished alongside them.
And after all the soldiers had retreated.
Hundreds of corpses lay piled before the mine, forming a small hill.
Dawn had not yet broken.
Only slightly more than six hours had passed since the battle began.
Yet in that brief span, hundreds had fallen, and the ground before the palisade was drenched in blood and death.
And a heavy silence had descended upon the Imperial Army Camp.
No one could speak easily.
Throughout the camp, only the screams of the wounded and the ragged breathing of soldiers supporting them toward the Medical Room could be heard.
And in the Conference Room at the center of the camp.
The officers gathered there remained silent, watching Belkain’s expression carefully.
In this situation, they simply couldn’t find the words to say.
Everyone felt the same emotion, exhaling only quiet sighs.
But then.
“C-Commander! Something terrible has happened!”
A cry from outside, nearly a wail of desperation.
At those words, the officers in the conference room exchanged bewildered glances before.
“What is it!”
“What’s happened!”
Everyone sprang from their seats and rushed out of the conference room.
And there, where they emerged.
Thud.
A man being supported by someone dropped to both knees on the ground, bowing his head.
The gag clenched between his teeth was stained crimson, and the severed stumps of both arms had been cauterized by flame.
He sat collapsed in a state so grotesque that even the word “atrocity” seemed inadequate.
Belkain’s pupils trembled violently at the sight of him.
“Pi, Piolak… General.”
A 6-Star Warrior of the Empire.
It was Piolak Beurin.
* * *
“Why did you let him live?”
At Morganteron’s question, Berkal gazed toward the Forward Position where the Imperial Army had withdrawn.
Despite the bitter northern wind, the smell of blood was so overwhelming it assaulted the nostrils.
Blood scattered across the snow had already congealed into a dark crimson, and faint wisps of steam rose between the frozen corpses.
Broken spears and torn flags swayed in the wind, silently testifying to the end of the battlefield.
It seemed that tonight, the beasts of the Northern Mountains would hold their feast.
Berkal spoke.
“He retained utility until the very end.”
“…What do you mean? That he has utility by being allowed to live?”
Berkal nodded at Morganteron’s words.
His gaze seemed to pierce not merely the battlefield itself, but the currents that lay beyond it.
“Now that both his arms are severed, his value as a Warrior is gone. He poses no threat to us. However….”
Berkal’s gaze fixed upon Morganteron’s left arm.
A long, continuous wound.
Between the congealing blood, the skin trembled faintly as if residual heat still lingered.
Though not deep, it was a single decisive strike that had been permitted.
Berkal spoke.
“A warrior with enough skill to wound Morganteron’s arm. From the Empire’s perspective, he would be far too valuable to discard carelessly.”
“This was… merely a minor accident.”
Morganteron recalled his battle with him once more.
In that moment when snow swirled violently, the trajectory of the sword that had pierced like lightning remained vivid still.
Since I had severed his arm with the first strike, it should have been a fight that ended without consequence.
But that final blow.
Whether he sensed death approaching.
The Empire’s Warrior threw everything of himself into a single strike aimed at my arm.
Like a beast in its final moments before death, it was a single strike forged from burning everything away.
At the last instant, because I grasped his intent, I avoided having my arm severed….
“….”
I could not deny that even now, recalling it sent a chill down my spine.
The sensation of cold sweat seeping through my skin arrived a beat too late.
Berkal nodded at Morganteron’s words.
“I understand. After all, in this Northern Region, and indeed across the entire Empire and Continent, there are few who can fight on equal terms with Taman. But precisely because he possesses such exceptional skill, he can buy us time.”
Berkal gazed toward the palisade in front of the Mine.
Wind seeped through the crumbling timber, producing a low, creaking groan.
The palisade was already on the verge of collapse, and the towering heap of corpses served as a ladder for scaling it.
That bizarre layer—a grotesque mixture of blood and snow—resembled not a human construction but a monster’s nest.
Time was needed to repair the palisade and clear away the corpses. And simultaneously.
“Next time… we must strike first.”
At Berkal’s words, Morganteron’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Even in the frigid wind, his gaze grew colder and more piercing.
I already knew he was a bold one.
‘…A remarkable individual.’
Within the Kar Tribe, only “that person” issued orders to me with such unguarded directness.
No—that person was almost never encountered, so it was fair to say they practically didn’t exist.
But this young Military Strategist was different.
He seemed to view the battlefield as a board laid before him, calculating everything with cold precision.
He used me with absolute thoroughness as a single “piece” on that battlefield.
He grasped my exact value and positioned me in the optimal location for victory.
His judgment contained almost no hesitation, no emotion.
Otherwise, he could never have commanded me—of all people—to crouch motionless in a pit carved from the Rocky Mountain for six hours in ambush.
‘Of course…’
Thanks to that, I had completely evaded the Imperial Army’s surveillance and struck at their rear.
Morganteron nodded.
Deep within his eyes, both the warrior’s instinct and acknowledgment shone simultaneously.
“Whatever comes, I shall follow the Military Strategist’s command. Should you reach a decision, speak at any time.”
At those words, Berkal nodded silently and gazed toward the Imperial Army Camp.
‘Now then, what will you do?’
Supreme Commander of the Empire.
Berkal’s eyes settled with a chill as cold as the Northern wind.

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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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