Chapter 321: The Battle of Okagrar (Part Three)
This is Erezaghe, where there are all kinds of miraculous spells. The effects of these spells range from the simplest, such as cleaning or emitting faint light, to flying, teleportation, or even permanently altering the world's environment.
In a sense, the magical level of a nation reflects its standard of living.
Located in a remote area, far from the hubs of magical academia, the Anzeta Wasteland and the Northern United Kingdom have remained on the outskirts of the "civilized world" for millennia. They are still in the early stages of feudal society, having only recently emerged from savagery and ignorance. Without the intervention of the Ember Kingdom and external forces, the rule of Northern nobles might have continued unchallenged for thousands of years.
Although these Scanians are resilient and valiant, their military capabilities are as primitive as their societal structures when compared to the Kingdom. Skilled at battling wyverns and frost giants, they struggle against organized armies with advanced tactics and weaponry.
On the ground, the Kingdom's cavalry and infantry moved like waves, launching one assault after another, executing their tactics with precision.
In the skies, chimeras and wyverns used their numerical superiority to gain the upper hand. Under the constant influence of draconic blood, they charged fearlessly, pressing forward relentlessly, forcing celestial beings into retreat and gaining air superiority over the battlefield.
The corpses of wyverns and celestial beings fell continually. The sky became a bloody millstone, discarding lives unfit for the brutal slaughter.
"Boom!"
Shadows darted through the air, as metallic bombs and fire descended, tearing through the Union's defensive lines on the ground.
The Kingdom's musket infantry and draconic cavalry quickly concentrated their firepower on the weakened points created by the air raids. They seized these opportunities to push forward, capturing strategic positions one by one with this methodical strategy.
Against such coordinated land-and-air tactics, even with celestial reinforcements and the leadership of noble military commanders, the Union's defenses crumbled steadily. The inevitability of defeat was apparent to all—the Kingdom had secured a hundred-meter-wide foothold on the southern riverbank.
As one of the Union's senior commanders, Count Treliska also noticed the crumbling situation.
Standing on higher ground, he gazed solemnly at the battlefield. More and more draconic beasts, ogres, and goblins were crossing to the southern bank of the river.
Their command structure was falling into chaos, with messengers and noble knights frantically trying but failing to relay orders effectively.
After all, they had never faced a war of this scale. Managing a ten-mile-long defensive line with a hundred-thousand-strong army already stretched their capabilities to the limit.
Meanwhile, the Kingdom's forces continued to exploit weak points, isolating and "surrounding" portions of the Union's army, cutting off their communication and support.
Elite teams from the Kingdom conducted deep strikes, roaming and harassing the Union's positions, causing further disruption to their order.
"No…"
"This cannot go on."
"I must take action."
Treliska recalled the moment years ago when Duke Leo had placed a sword on his shoulder, conferring him the title of Count.
It was the greatest honor of his life and a debt of gratitude he could never forget.
Born the overlooked second son of a minor noble family, he had unexpectedly earned the Duke's favor and was sent south for further education, witnessing wonders most Northerners could only dream of. Yet, none of those experiences compared to that fateful encounter that changed his destiny.
Now, even if the path ahead led to certain death, he knew he had to rise to the occasion, to repay the Duke's kindness.
Having traveled widely, Treliska understood the flaws in the Northern system. He had contemplated learning from the South to improve the lives of Northerners.
But in his mind, such change had to come gradually, led by the Northern nobility from the top down. It could never be achieved through conquest, subjugation, or the eradication of the noble class.
With these thoughts, Treliska donned his helmet, mounted his horse, raised the Bosk family's banner, and lifted a silver sword adorned with a lion's head emblem high into the air.
"For the Bosk Duchy!"
"For the glory of the Scanians!"
Hundreds of loyal guards followed the Count, charging directly into the heart of the Kingdom's main assault, a place others dared not approach.
On the plains, corpses nearly blanketed the ground. Blood flowed like rivers. Yet, the Count and his brave retainers advanced without hesitation.
…
On the frontlines, the brutal battle raged on.
Gunfire roared, cannons thundered, and draconic beasts let out guttural howls.
"Hah!"
"Boom!"
With a furious cry and a deafening crash, Born Battle Maniac leapt into the fray, cleaving through the helmeted head of a Shield Seraph.
"Hahahahaha!"
"Fighting is exhilarating!"
Born Battle Maniac laughed maniacally, drenched in enemy blood. Steam rose from his body like white smoke.
Enhanced by the [Giant Growth] spell, his towering five-meter frame loomed over the battlefield like a small giant.
Wielding a three-meter-long bloodstained battleaxe and sporting muscles bolstered by countless draconic infusions, he resembled a formidable raid boss rather than a player.
To the Union's soldiers, Born Battle Maniac was precisely that—a terrifying raid boss.
With his Level 7 Barbarian class, a physique brimming with draconic power, and years of combat experience in immersive VR games, he tore through the Union's lines, slaughtering even groups of ten without breaking a sweat.
Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves filled the air.
Born Battle Maniac dropped the mangled corpse in his hands and looked up slowly.
Heavy cavalry in full plate armor charged toward him, led by a figure whose aura was unmistakably extraordinary.
Wiping the blood from his face with a careless swipe, Born Battle Maniac grinned in excitement.
—A mini-boss with high difficulty and significant faction contribution points. Perhaps it was even his ticket to earn the newly introduced "Noble Title" reward.
So he thought.
Beneath the heavy helmet that revealed only his eyes, Treliska's expression was grim. Sweat dripped from the hand gripping his longsword, but he rode forward resolutely.
—A vile, fearsome monster commander worthy of his personal intervention and an honorable duel.
Killing him might slow the Kingdom's advance.
So Treliska thought.
Just got back, there's still one more chapter, four updates tomorrow