The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 323

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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 (323)
Above the Training Ground where the air had turned bitterly cold, the clash of steel and ragged breathing intermingled in a harsh symphony.
As the Spear’s tip cleaved through empty space and feet trampled the snow with each movement, delicate Frost scattered into the air.
Then.
A soft whisper of sound.
Arteon turned his gaze toward something distant during his Training.
Isaac, standing beside him, asked a question.
“What troubles you, sir?”
Arteon did not answer immediately.
His eyes were fixed on some distant point beyond the Northern Mountain Range.
There was a quality to his gaze as if he were perceiving something far away.
But soon, Arteon spoke quietly.
“By now… I suspect the matter has reached its conclusion.”
A brief utterance.
Yet it was enough to discern what occupied his thoughts.
Isaac asked.
“…You speak of the Gracekal Mine, sir?”
A nod.
At Arteon’s response, Isaac smiled faintly and spoke.
“It is Commander Belkain, after all. Moreover, the Warrior leading the vanguard in this operation is General Piolak of the Beurin Family, I am told.”
Isaac’s tone carried absolute certainty.
Given the weight those two names carried, the outcome seemed already determined.
And had I not already heard the name of the General leading the vanguard?
A Warrior of tremendous Ability who had recently ascended to 6-Star level.
Yet something nagged at me inexplicably.
An indescribable, exceedingly subtle sense of discord.
The instinct honed through countless Battles on the Battlefield sent a quiet warning.
Arteon gazed toward the location of the Gracekal Mine.
For a moment, I narrowed my eyes.
A cold wind brushed past my hair.
And as I stared intently at that distant place, I soon turned my gaze away.
“…You are right. With him as Commander, there should be no cause for concern.”
Unwavering faith in Belkain.
He was no mere Commander.
He was a man who knew the Northern Region better than anyone and had led countless Battlefields to victory.
Arteon turned his gaze once more, looking toward the Squad Members.
My eyes changed in an instant.
All trace of my previous thoughts vanished, leaving only the cold gaze of a disciplined Commander.
The Training Ground continued its harsh rhythm.
Soldiers thrusting Swords at one another, warriors clashing Spears while maintaining Balance, recruits who fell only to rise again and grit their teeth.
At that sight, Arteon called out loudly.
“Next!”
With those words, the Squad Members exchanged partners and resumed their Training.
Footsteps moved swiftly, weapons clashed once more, and the metallic ring echoed across the Training Ground.
Arteon stepped back and observed the scene before him.
His gaze was not merely watching—it was evaluating each movement.
Breathing.
Foot placement.
Force transmission.
His eyes missed not even the smallest Opening, as if determined to catch every flaw.
One might call him exacting, yet none of the Squad Members voiced complaint at Arteon’s scrutiny.
They all understood.
That these minute details, accumulated and refined, forged true Ability.
And that such mastery allowed them to survive when they stood upon the Battlefield.
“Uuuaaahhhhh!”
“Hyaahhh!”
The Momentum of the Squad Members grew fiercer with each exchange.
Merely by having Arteon observe from the side, their drive burned ever brighter.
Watching his Squad Members, Arteon turned his gaze northward once more, if only for a moment.
As if sensing something invisible to the eye.
Then, as if nothing had occurred, he returned his focus to the Training of his Squad Members.
* * *
The Imperial Army Camp was preparing for Withdrawal.
Even within the Darkness, the bustle of activity never ceased.
Torches swayed here and there, and the low sound of Soldiers organizing equipment and driving horses echoed softly.
Carts laden with the Wounded creaked as they moved, and through them flowed an air thick with tension and exhaustion.
Morganteron’s eyes, gazing down upon the Camp, grew cold and sharp.
He stood upon the Rocky Mountain adjacent to the Mine.
At the edge of that Cliff, he remained unmoved, steady as stone.
A bitter wind tore at his collar roughly, yet his gaze remained fixed solely upon the Imperial Army Camp below.
“To think I would find myself in such a Surprise Attack.”
The words emerged low and measured.
Within them lay not surprise, but something closer to intrigue.
At a position of such rank, one rarely participated in such Battles.
Typically, Warriors of lesser standing moved instead; he did not personally intervene.
For a being of Morganteron’s presence to be deployed in such a small Operation would be excessive.
And yet….
“Not bad at all.”
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
In the cold night air, those words somehow felt warm.
Memories of past battles against the Imperial Army surfaced in his mind.
Twenty years ago, perhaps more.
On a Battlefield where snow and blood intermingled, there had been endless hours of fighting, again and again.
There were times when every place he stood became a Battlefield.
Wherever he stepped was a Corpse, wherever he looked was an enemy.
The sensation of wielding an Axe to survive in that maelstrom still lingered deep within his body.
Morganteron, gripping his Axe, spoke.
“Before Dawn, we will completely destroy those bastards.”
The moment his words fell, the air around them grew heavier still.
It was, quite literally, a sentence.
“Yes, Taman.”
“Understood.”
Brief responses.
Yet within them lay not a single moment of hesitation.
As Morganteron moved, naturally all the Warriors beneath him followed.
Their footsteps were silent, yet their very presence exuded pressure.
Though merely a Unit of roughly a thousand, Morganteron bore seven Feather Tattoos, and there were two additional Warriors bearing six Feather Tattoos each.
Even in the Darkness, the Tattoos inscribed upon their bodies glimmered faintly, revealing their existence.
Each one of them held positions equivalent to Taman in ordinary tribes.
The mere fact that they gathered in one place already constituted an abnormal military strength.
Moreover, now they served merely as Adjutants guarding Morganteron’s side.
That reality elevated this Unit’s danger to an extreme degree.
Morganteron’s gaze grew cold and settled.
There was no more time to dwell in memories of the past.
Presently, he raised his Axe.
His grip on the Handle tightened.
“Attack those bastards.”
The moment the order fell.
A thousand Kar Tribe Warriors melted into the Darkness and charged toward the Imperial Army’s Rear Position.
Their footfalls were barely audible.
Like shadows in motion, they descended the Mountain, gliding downward.
Spirits thirsting for blood surged from the Darkness toward the Imperial Army’s back.
* * *
“Hurry!”
“We must begin moving before Dawn! If daylight comes, those bastards might launch an attack!”
“You there, load the Wounded onto the carts! Lay down more straw beneath! Yes, that’s it!”
“Hey, if you stack that there, what will we do!”
The Imperial Army Camp was in chaos.
Torches swayed in the wind, casting long Shadows, and the movements of Soldiers overlapped above them in disorienting confusion.
Horses rolled their hooves anxiously, and cart Wheels creaked as they ground through mud and blood.
The soldiers were startled by the sudden order to retreat, but they quickly began preparing to move.
Like those who had traversed countless battlefields over the years, their hands never ceased moving even amid the chaos.
The movements of organizing equipment, gathering weapons, and transporting the wounded gradually found their rhythm.
Though the order had been made hastily, the retreat preparations proceeded without a hitch under the Officers’ command.
“Move in that direction!”
“Over here! Listen up! Just come this way!”
Shouts and instructions flew back and forth ceaselessly, and within that cacophony, order swiftly took root.
Belkain, watching the scene unfold, spoke.
“Establish thorough patrols in case of any unforeseen circumstances. If those bastards attack now, it would be catastrophic.”
“Understood.”
Claw nodded and turned away.
His footsteps held no hesitation.
Truly, at moments like this, he seemed utterly flawless.
‘In any situation… he considers multiple possibilities.’
That was why I could accept his decision to retreat in just a single day.
It was an absurd decision on the surface, but within it lay calculations of variables I had never considered.
And it was the same now.
After one battle concluded, the Kar Tribe would have an enormous amount to repair and maintain.
They would need to fix the palisades on the verge of collapse and dispose of the massive pile of corpses ahead.
Clearing away that heap of bodies, flesh and blood intermingled, would consume considerable time alone.
And if one also considered the aftermath of the wounded and dead, plus preparations to defend against future attacks…
‘An attack would be practically impossible.’
Yet Belkain had considered even such minor risks.
Low probability and zero probability were entirely different matters.
Claw met with the Officers and swiftly issued patrol orders.
The moment the command fell, soldiers scattered and moved to their positions.
Soon the number of Sentries in the rear and flanks increased, and soldiers hurried their retreat preparations.
In the darkness, spear tips gleamed, and bowstrings drawn taut created an atmosphere thick with tension.
But then.
Shrieeeeeeee!
A piercing whistle tore through the night.
“A-An attack! The enemy is att—Gack!”
The whistle from the rear and the Sentry’s cry echoed loudly across the camp.
And with it came the Kar Tribe’s assault.
As if the darkness itself had split open, shadows poured in.
They had approached without even drawing breath, already closing the distance to arm’s length.
The Officer standing guard rushed forward with the soldiers to intercept them.
He kicked off powerfully and burst toward the front.
Though he could not wield an Aura, he was still one who commanded Mana at a level befitting the 3-Star Level.
Mana coursed through his entire body as his muscles swelled with power.
Reinforcing his body with Mana, he pushed off the ground with tremendous force and shouted at the Kar Tribe Warrior leading the charge.
“Attack from both sides simultaneously! Shield Bearers, block every avenue of escape!”
“Yes!”
“Understood!”
“Haaaagh!”
“Graaaaaaagh!”
A dozen soldiers rushed at him in unison.
They braced their shields against any contingency, their spear tips thrusting forward in perfect synchronization to form an impenetrable wall.
And through that narrow gap, the Officer charged forward with blinding speed.
But….
“…Pathetic insects.”
Whoosh!
From right to left.
The Axe swept through the air with a sound that tore the very atmosphere asunder.
A crimson arc painted itself across the Darkness.
And with it.
Splooooorch!
The bodies of a dozen soldiers were cleaved in half, blood erupting like a fountain.
Upper and lower halves separated, drenching the Ground in crimson.
The Battle Line collapsed in an instant.
And faced with the impossible spectacle unfolding before their eyes.
“This, this can’t….”
The Officer faltered, stammering in shock.
But before his words could even finish.
Crack!
The Axe cleaved the Officer’s body in two from head to groin.
Bones shattered as his body split apart, blood pouring forth.
Overwhelming Momentum.
In that instant, the Imperial Soldiers present froze, their bodies trembling.
The Weapons in their hands quivered slightly.
Mere seconds.
What had transpired so swiftly seemed to paralyze their very reason.
And seeing their reaction, Morganteron extended his Axe and spoke.
“Leave not a single one alive… slaughter them all.”
A terse, cold Command.
Followed by the onslaught of the Kar Tribe’s assault, a Bloodbath descended upon them.

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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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