The Mad Spearman of the Northern Front - Chapter 348

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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 (348)
North of where the Imperial Fortress of Aikuled stood.
A considerably wide path stretched ahead, though the terrain itself showed little variation.
As if someone had deliberately carved it smooth, the gently winding path bore faint traces of battle.
The Canyon Wall extending beyond that point was lower than those at the Central position, and with the Blizzard less severe here, pursuit became far easier for the Imperial Army.
Even the wind’s flow seemed to push at the backs of the Imperial soldiers.
‘…That Isaac.’
Arteon watched the Silent Spear Unit moving along the opposite Canyon Wall.
Their movement across the rough Cliff face appeared natural, as though they had spent years mastering this terrain.
Small fragments scattered each time hooves struck stone, yet their pace never faltered.
Pre-positioned and waiting, they charged their mounts, watching for the moment the Kar Tribe would Retreat.
Like hunters holding their breath, targeting a single opening in time.
I had worried somewhat about the narrow and treacherous path descending the Canyon Wall, but the Squad Members charged ferociously toward the Kar Tribe without the slightest wavering in Formation.
A path where a single misstep could send anyone plummeting.
Yet their Formation remained unbroken.
And the moment they struck the Kar Tribe’s flank, a Bloodbath erupted.
With the Impact of hooves hammering the Ground, sharp Spears and Swords swung in unison.
“Gaaaahhhhh!”
“No, stop them!”
“Target the horses! Attack their legs!”
Chaos descended upon the Kar Tribe’s Formation under the onslaught of the Silent Spear Unit.
The Formation, already showing signs of collapse, began to split apart under the Impact of the flank assault.
Devastating power arriving at a completely unexpected moment.
Their movements were no simple Charge. Calculated Trajectories, repeated patterns.
Not merely riding fast, but forming a triangular Formation to pierce inward while simultaneously carving outward like peeling flesh, repeating their attacks.
Corpses remained wherever they passed.
Then, changing direction again, they probed another weak point.
“Damn these Imperial bastards…!”
Gormak, spotting Arteon standing on the opposite Canyon Wall, clenched his lips and looked upward.
A face smeared with blood, breathing rough and heavy.
Yet his eyes still burned with life.
The moment their gazes met, a chill ran through my entire body.
‘There is no escape.’
The current situation crystallized firmly in Gormak’s mind.
The instinct honed through countless Battlefields spoke clearly.
This place had already become the position of hunted prey.
Any clumsy attempt to flee would only result in meaningless losses of Warriors to the Imperial cavalry.
There was no path to survival.
‘…Even if I die.’
Should I not fall as a Warrior, fighting to the end?
It was the way the Kar Tribe had lived, and the pride they must uphold until the very end.
Gormak slowly lowered Rakjen from his shoulder.
His touch was rough, yet somehow careful.
Rakjen, too, seemed to have accepted his fate, his eyes fixed upon the Gorge above with the gaze of one prepared for death.
His blood-stained lips twisted upward in a grimace.
“Damn it, I should’ve just brought my axe.”
“Want to borrow mine?”
Rakjen drew an axe from his belt and offered it forward.
The blade bore the marks of repeated use, yet it remained a weapon fully capable of severing a man’s head.
Gormak clicked his tongue and accepted it.
“Better than nothing.”
I felt the weight of the axe in my grip.
It was an unfamiliar weapon, but this was no time to be choosy.
Gormak concentrated his Mana and roared.
“Warriors, hear me!”
Clang!
The cry reverberated across the entire Gorge, and the warriors flinched, their attention drawn to his voice.
Even amid the chaos, their gazes converged as one.
Gormak continued.
“We die here! Every last Imperial bastard before our eyes—we drag them all to the underworld with us!”
The warriors’ eyes transformed at his words.
Fear vanished, replaced by madness.
With that, Gormak drew forth his Aura, his entire body engulfed in crimson light, and pointed toward Arteon standing above the Gorge.
“Come, Warrior of the Empire.”
The air trembled.
A blazing Aura wrapped around his entire form.
Gormak and the wounded Rakjen’s eyes gleamed with sinister brilliance.
The final madness—a frenzy only those facing death could possess.
And witnessing these two figures.
….
Arteon, too, steeled his resolve and gripped Iglis tightly.
The sensation of the Spear transmitted clearly through my palm.
If I could kill those bastards here.
‘In the battles to come….’
I could seize a decisive advantage.
It was far more than the victory or defeat of a single engagement.
Losing a warrior bearing seven Feather Tattoos would be a devastating blow to them.
An opportunity to overturn the Kar Tribe’s morale and the very flow of the Front Line thereafter.
Arteon, watching the two great warriors staring down at him, hurled himself down into the Gorge.
The wind tore past his ears like a blade.
In his vision, only a single objective came into sharp focus.
* * *
The war erupting in the Northern Region had drawn the Imperial Family’s gaze entirely to that theater.
Endless reports, flags planted upon maps, and messengers moving ceaselessly back and forth.
The Conference Room deep within the Imperial Palace had not seen darkness for days now.
Within that oppressive atmosphere, the ministers watched the situation unfold without a moment’s respite.
And yet….
“Cr-crisis! A grave crisis!”
The Conference Room door burst open as a Messenger rushed inside.
Without even catching his breath, he dropped to his knees upon the floor.
The news the Messenger brought sent tremors through the entire Imperial Family.
Elvarfiel Lake had been lost to the Kar Tribe, and thousands of Soldiers had fallen.
It was far more than a simple defeat.
It meant that one of the critical pillars of the Northern Defense had crumbled.
In that instant, the air within the Conference Room froze.
The hands of the ministers, their eyes fixed upon the map, trembled ever so slightly.
The remaining Troops barely escaped, watching for any opportunity to strike back.
“With our current Military Strength… the Commander’s assessment is that direct confrontation with them is impossible.”
The Messenger’s words continued.
His voice wavered, yet the content remained coldly measured.
The situation had unfolded so swiftly that there had been no time to mount a proper response.
A tempest that descended without warning or preparation.
The Kar Tribe’s movements were precise, as though they had calculated everything.
At this, Sedrian spoke with a hardened expression.
“What of the other two positions?”
His gaze swept across the map.
Elvarfiel Lake.
And the two remaining Strategic Points.
They had not even anticipated that the Kar Tribe would assault all three Strategic Points simultaneously.
This was no mere offensive—it was an attempt to overturn the very board of war itself.
And that two of the Kar Tribe’s great Warriors would be deployed to each Strategic Point was something they had not foreseen at all.
Were these not beings whose very names could topple an entire Battlefield?
Yet now such formidable warriors moved in concert—an impossible situation had come to pass.
It was an audacious offensive unlike anything the Kar Tribe had ever attempted before.
‘Perhaps….’
The Kar Tribe had wagered everything on this war—that much was certain.
They seemed to harbor no thought of retreat whatsoever.
At Sedrian’s question, the Messenger shook his head.
“As yet… we have heard nothing.”
A low sigh escaped from one corner of the Conference Room.
The severing of information meant, in turn, that the other fronts were equally unsafe.
True, being in the Northern Region didn’t grant him knowledge of every distant camp’s situation.
The Blizzard and treacherous Terrain made even transmitting a single message arduous.
Yet….
‘Aikuled has Marquis Arteon Wolfheim stationed there….’
Sedrian’s gaze paused momentarily.
That name alone was enough to bring a measure of reassurance.
His worry eased somewhat, but Belikezel weighed on his mind.
That place too was a critical stronghold.
Should it fall, the entire Northern Region would be shaken.
But suddenly,
“…Prime Minister.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The Kar Tribe’s Great Warriors… there are nine of them in total, are there not?”
Sedrian’s eyes narrowed.
It was no mere confirmation.
He was calculating something.
“That is correct. And two of them have fallen to Marquis Arteon.”
Taifren, who had answered, looked at Sedrian and asked,
“If I may ask… why do you suddenly inquire about that?”
To the Prime Minister’s question,
“Then that means seven Great Warriors remain….”
Sedrian’s gaze swept across the Map once more.
Elvarfiel Lake.
Aikuled.
Belikezel.
If two were stationed at each Strategic Point,
“Then where in the world is the remaining one?”
The moment those words fell, the air in the Conference Room turned ice-cold.
The ministers’ gazes turned toward one another.
Some sealed their lips.
Others opened their eyes wide as if recalling something.
The sensation of an invisible Blade being aimed from somewhere.
Everyone in that room realized the truth—that unseen ‘one’ could be the greatest danger of all.
* * *
Crash!
As Metal Chunk collided with Metal Chunk, a Rupture Sound tore through the air, shaking the Battlefield.
Both of Gormak’s arms trembled violently from the Impact of that Strike.
The earth beneath his feet cracked, and his knees nearly buckled in that instant.
‘Formidable.’
Gritting his teeth, he barely held on, biting the inside of his lip.
The taste of blood spread across his mouth.
He had traversed countless Battlefields until now, and faced numerous powerful warriors to earn the title of Great Warrior.
But….
‘This is… on a different level.’
He had felt it when they clashed once before Aikuled Fortress, but this was completely different.
Then, it was merely a matter of blocking a single Attack, but now….
‘It feels as though… Death itself stands before my eyes.’
Moreover, the Weapon now gripped in his hand was not even his beloved blade.
That fact only tightened Gormak’s grip on survival.
Whoosh!
Gormak hastily swung his Axe against Arteon’s incoming Attack.
But before that Axe could deflect the Iglis, a Sword Strike from the flank twisted Arteon’s Trajectory.
Clang!
It was Rakjen.
He forced his body to move, teeth clenched. His flank was already torn open, blood streaming down relentlessly. Yet despite this….
“Haa… Haa…!”
Again and again.
At every critical moment, he intervened to sever the Flow.
Gormak ground his teeth watching him.
‘This bastard….’
This was less cooperation than literally buying time by carving away his own life.
‘At this rate… he won’t last much longer.’
Rakjen’s breathing was already crumbling.
His Aura scattered, and the tip of his Sword trembled faintly.
The opportunities for him to intervene ahead.
‘At most… two more times.’
Anything beyond that was impossible.
“Gasp… Gasp…!”
Gormak’s massive frame heaved heavily.
The sensation of his lungs tearing and burning.
And facing him, Arteon as well.
“Huh….”
He exhaled sharply, narrowing his gaze.
‘These bastards….’
They were holding out better than expected.
A memory flashed of facing two 7-Star Warriors on the Southern Front.
Thanks to that experience, I could press forward even in this situation, yet despite that….
These two before me.
Judging by individual strength alone, it was difficult to say they surpassed those two I faced in the South.
The problem was that their coordination was becoming increasingly synchronized.
Rough, willful, devoid of any formal structure in their movements.
Yet as time passed, that formless approach filled each other’s gaps and maintained the flow of combat.
‘Instinct…is it.’
Not refined Sword Technique.
Not trained form either.
Merely the sensations carved into the body for survival.
That instinct, in this very moment.
Was proving far more terrifying than the Combined Attack of those who had once been the Kingdom’s greatest Warriors.
‘Certainly….’
Their Combined Attack could certainly be threatening.
But one was injured, and more critically, there were only two of them.
Grip.
Strength surged into my hands.
I would grant them no further opportunities.
Given time, their coordination would only grow more refined.
I would end this before that could happen.
Uuuuuuuung!
Iglis shrieked.
Golden Aura erupted explosively from the Spear gripped in my palm.
The air trembled, and dust scattered outward in waves.
Flash!
A brilliant flash followed.
Power as though lightning itself had been condensed.
Gormak’s expression hardened at the sight.
“…Damn it.”
It was intuition.
This cannot be stopped.
My feet drove into the ground.
Crack!
The earth split as my body shot forward.
There was only one objective.
‘End this.’
But in that instant.
Shuuuuuuuack!
The sky tore open.
A single trajectory of light plummeting downward.
My gaze snapped toward it.
“…?!”
But the next moment.
Kwaaaaaaaang!
A Spear pierced through the space between three men.
As the Ground erupted beneath them.
An Explosion erupted, and a colossal shockwave rippled outward in all directions.
Gormak’s body was driven backward, while Rakjen tumbled across the earth.
Arteon too stepped back, regaining his balance.
Whiiiiing!
Dust swirled in a vortex.
Vision blurred, and the air twisted.
And….
“….”
I lifted my head.
A figure charging through the dust veil.
My expression hardened slightly at the sight.

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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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