The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 332

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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 (332)
Pwooooooooooo!
A horn’s cry tore through the air before the mine, its sound stretching long across the mountain range.
The echoes reflected layer upon layer between the barren rocky peaks, transforming into a roar that shook the very battlefield before returning.
It was the resolve of the survivors, the declaration of those prepared to embrace death.
Below the mine entrance.
Imperial Army soldiers had gathered, spreading out like a black wave.
There were wounded among them, and those who gripped their weapons with blood still wet upon their hands.
Armor lay torn, shields bore cracks, and spear tips carried the unmistakable marks of having pierced enemy flesh countless times.
And yet.
Their eyes had not died.
If anything, they burned all the more fiercely.
“…Heh.”
Morganteron’s lips twisted as he gazed down upon the sight.
His cold eyes swept across the Imperial Army’s formation.
“They’ve resolved themselves to die, then.”
Mockery laced his low voice.
Trampled so thoroughly, yet they gather here once more.
By any rational measure, it made no sense.
But he soon reconsidered.
“…Is it to avenge their commander?”
Morganteron, still unaware that the one he had killed was Belkain’s Adjutant, merely scoffed.
“Ha. For such a trivial reason?”
Comradeship.
Honor.
Conviction.
All of these were merely hollow justifications fabricated by the weak.
Only strength determined survival on the battlefield.
Without power, no emotion held any meaning.
His gaze moved slowly.
Behind the soldiers.
Figures at commander level, barely discernible in the distance.
And….
“…Still clinging to hope, are they?”
Morganteron’s eyes narrowed.
“The one who slew Kakuurakun.”
The moment that name crossed his mind, his gaze flashed with lethal intensity.
He still could not fathom how Berkal, so formidable, had retreated because of a single person.
What manner of being could possibly be so extraordinary?
But then Morganteron’s lips curled upward, and laughter erupted from him.
“It won’t make any difference no matter what.”
His hand rose slowly.
A Giant Axe.
The handle alone was as thick as an adult man’s forearm—a monstrous weapon.
Creak.
As he gripped it, the wooden handle twisted slightly with a sound.
In that instant, intense Killing Intent began flowing from Morganteron’s entire body.
“Gather the warriors.”
A short, concise command.
Yet the weight contained in those few words was far from light.
The Kar Tribe Warriors nearby moved in unison.
Those hiding behind rocks, those keeping watch from the cliff, and even those waiting inside the mine.
Hundreds of warriors assembled before him in an instant.
Breathing heavily, their eyes blazing with intense killing intent.
“We move to the southwestern flank immediately.”
At his words, the warriors’ eyes gleamed.
The southwest.
It was where the Imperial Army had previously attempted to infiltrate using guerrilla tactics.
The slope was steep and the path narrow, but the rocks and terrain were intricately tangled—ideal for concealment and perfectly suited for a surprise attack.
“If those bastards target that location again….”
It would be an excellent opportunity to completely crush their hopes.
Boom!
He took a step forward.
With that single stride, gravel scattered from the ground, and the surrounding air grew heavy.
The warriors following behind.
Hundreds of footsteps overlapped into one, creating a deep, resonant sound.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A vibration as if some colossal beast were moving.
They moved swiftly along the mountain path.
Terrain they knew well.
A path they had traversed countless times.
They moved with bated breath, concealing their presence, carrying death within them.
Morganteron’s eyes grew progressively darker.
‘This time….’
His gaze turned toward the Imperial Army in the distance, still unseen.
‘I will end this completely.’
The aura of the impending slaughter quietly began to consume the entire mountain.

* * *
“Uaaaaaaaaaah!”
The roar and the clash of weapons echoed clearly from afar.
Upon the winding ridge line.
The mountain path, shrouded in thick darkness, appeared as though it led toward death itself.
The ground beneath was treacherous, and sheer cliffs yawned on both sides.
One misstep would send a person plummeting into the abyss, yet among those standing on that path, not a single soul hesitated.
The Silent Spear Battalion.
They concealed themselves within the darkness, their eyes fixed upon the entrance of the mine some distance away.
The sound of battle erupting from the front.
At that sound, Isaac beside me spoke.
“Commander.”
Isaac’s low voice brushed against my ears.
I lifted my head.
Firelight flickering in the distance, the clash of steel upon steel reaching us.
The battle had already begun, and it was the signal for our advance.
“…All units, advance.”
A brief command.
I spoke while raising Iglis.
In that instant, the eyes of the Silent Spear Battalion Members gleamed with razor-sharp intensity.
“We have been waiting for this.”
“…Those bastards—I will slaughter them all.”
The suppressed Killing Intent erupted like a detonation.
Whoosh!
My body, bursting forth from the vanguard, tore through the darkness.
The Silent Spear Battalion Members following behind advanced without hesitation.
The path was treacherous, certainly.
A single misstep could send one tumbling over the precipice beside us, yet none slowed their pace.
Rather, as if mocking such terrain, they accelerated further.
The eastern entrance.
A Kar Tribe Warrior standing guard upon the palisade narrowed his eyes.
“…What?”
Something was amiss.
The air trembled, and the darkness seemed to split asunder.
One warrior leaned his head far beyond the palisade, peering into the darkness.
But in the moment he squinted to see ahead.
Crack!
His head snapped backward with a dull impact.
A stone the size of a fist embedded itself in his forehead, and his skull shattered.
Another warrior beside him cried out.
“There! The enemy!”
“The Imperial Army is attacking!”
“Throw the rocks!”
The Warriors lifted the massive boulders they had prepared.
There was no way those bastards could breach the palisade.
Just like last time, I planned to use the palisade as a barrier, hurl rocks from above, and smash their heads to pulp.
But in that instant.
Zzzzzing!
A golden gleam flashed through the darkness.
That light was no mere radiance.
An overwhelming ‘force’.
The next moment.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Crash!
The golden Aura erupted in a straight line.
The five-meter palisade was torn asunder, its fragments exploding outward.
The Warriors atop the palisade were shredded in mid-air, and those nearby screamed as their arms and legs were torn from their bodies.
Hell.
There was no other word to describe the sight.
Arteon and the Silent Spear Unit Members surged through the breach, shouting.
“Finish them quickly and push inside!”
“Kill them all!”
The Silent Spear Unit Members poured in like a flood.
One faced three, and three tore through ten.
“Gaaaah!”
“These… these mad bastards!”
A Kar Tribe Warrior swung his Axe in desperate resistance.
The Imperial Army was on an entirely different level than before.
Struggling to hold them back somehow.
No—struggling to survive.
Clang!
Another Unit Member slipped in from the side, deflecting the trajectory with his Spear.
And through that opening created by the deflection.
Thud!
A Unit Member’s Spear pierced through his back.
There was no time to even catch a breath.
It was overwhelming combat.
Each individual Unit Member possessed tremendous combat power, not merely relying on Arteon.
But the moment they were most terrifying was.
Whoosh!
When they formed a Formation, covering each other’s weaknesses.
“Gahhh…!”
In mere minutes, all the Kar Tribe Warriors guarding the eastern entrance lay sprawled on the ground.
There was no need to explain why the Empire’s elite were called such—this moment made it abundantly clear.
Once Arteon had completely secured the entrance, he turned to address his unit members.
“Each company. Spread out and search for the commander. Signal with a flare the moment you find them. Under no circumstances are you to engage in combat first.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”
“Isaac. Evacuate the miners together with the Support Company members.”
“Understood.”
Orders flowed swiftly, and Arteon, leaping ahead alone, climbed the towering watchtower within the mine.
From atop it, gazing down into the mine’s depths.
‘Where are you….’
Killing intent flickered in his eyes.
* * *
“So you simply returned empty-handed?”
A desolate plateau where merciless cold and cutting winds ceaselessly battered the land.
At its heart lay Grashkhal, the land of death.
Berkal bowed his head before the question posed by Brakthor Tamantiacum—the Taman of all Kar Tribe and their mightiest leader, standing before him.
“It was unavoidable. The Empire’s god of war is… at present, nothing less than a calamity.”
By Brakthor’s command, he had journeyed to Gracekal Mine.
He had repelled the Imperial Army’s assault and inflicted mortal wounds upon them, yet due to Morganteron’s reckless decision, they were forced to abandon that place.
But to his words.
“Military Strategist.”
“Yes, Taman.”
Brakthor regarded him with a chilling gaze and spoke.
“If you would turn tail and flee merely because a strong warrior has appeared… then what use are you to me?”
It was a question delivered in a matter-of-fact tone, yet it felt as though dozens of blades were pressed against his throat.
To this, Berkal responded.
“We did not flee because the opponent was strong. A powerful enemy requires its own distinct method of engagement. However….”
In the current state, he could not fight that man while burdened with the recklessly independent Morganteron.
Combat without proper preparation carried an enormous probability of failure.
Berkal continued.
“With our current state of readiness, we cannot stand against him. Ten times out of ten, we would suffer a major defeat.”
Merely standing in his presence caused his body to tremble.
Was this the pressure of Brakthor—the Taman of all Kar Tribe?
He had thought Morganteron formidable, yet they were not even comparable.
As Berkal lowered his head, Brakthor spoke.
“Ten times out of ten….”
He murmured softly, then continued.
He continued speaking, his voice trailing off at the end.
“What if, by some chance, Morganteron wins the battle at Gracekal Mine? Would you be willing to offer even the Military Strategist’s head?”
“If….”
Berkal spoke without hesitation.
“If Morganteron wins that war despite the Empire’s God of War appearing, I will offer my own head.”
His voice carried not the slightest wavering.
But that was not the end.
“Taman, may I speak one more word?”
“You have my permission.”
At Brakjor’s words, Berkal continued.
“In this battle… Morganteron will die.”
With those words, a heavy silence descended upon the Barracks.

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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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