"Get up and fight!"
The recruits' collapse left the Artrode command pale-faced and stunned.
"What are you all doing? Get up! Get up and fight!"
The punishment troops armed themselves and began to move, intending to intimidate the recruits.
But the recruits, seeing the punishment troops advance, crawled away on their hands and knees. Some even sought shelter behind the Lutania soldiers, effectively hiding from their own side.
The Artrode command was dumbfounded, unable to fathom such a turn of events.
"H-how is this even possible?"
"This isn't a rebellion of peasants we're suppressing, is it?"
"What do we do now?"
At first, everything seemed to be going according to plan. They had assumed the Lutania army was playing right into their hands.
Even weak recruits could kill knights if there were enough of them. That was the power of numbers, a force they had intended to wield.
Their goal was to throw the recruits at the Lutania army, even if it meant every one of them perished. Inflicting damage was the only priority.
But their enemies showed unexpected mercy, sparing the recruits. Overwhelmed by the impossible disparity, the recruits willingly surrendered.
Ghislain strode forward with a ferocious grin. Nothing stood between him and the Artrode command now.
"What's the matter? Did you think I'd do exactly as you wanted and slaughter them all?"
In war, no one was more ruthless than Ghislain. Anyone who stood in his way was dealt with swiftly.
Yet, when a swift resolution was possible—either by killing the enemy leaders or compelling their surrender—he never hesitated to take that path.
Reducing casualties on both sides and capturing the enemy's forces was always his preference.
That was why, now, instead of slaughtering his way through, Ghislain chose mercy.
He refused to dance to the enemy's tune.
"If I were to commit a massacre here, you'd just keep throwing more people in my way, wouldn't you?"
The Artrode forces, short on trained soldiers, would undoubtedly leverage such carnage to press more recruits into service. They would justify it as necessary, citing survival as the ultimate motive.
For the Salvation Church, human lives held no value. Hadn't they already sacrificed countless lives to summon the Rifts?
"I have no interest in killing the weak."
If the enemy wanted a slaughter, Ghislain had no intention of obliging.
He had to show them that their ploys were futile.
"All of you, get up and clear the way. You're in the way of our advance. Run. I'll allow it."
Ghislain's voice was low but resolute, resonating across the battlefield.
The recruits sprang to their feet and ran to the sides, scattering in all directions. To an observer, it might have seemed as though they were all Lutania citizens.
With the path now clear, the Lutania army regrouped.
The rear guard began to move forward in unison.
Neighhh!
The Black King let out a long, piercing cry before charging forward. Ghislain mounted the massive horse and pulled a spear from its saddle.
"From this moment, anyone who stands in my way will die."
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Knights and the assault corps discarded their batons, unsheathing their swords. The mobile army reattached spearheads to their shafts, transforming their weapons back into spears.
The Artrode forces could do nothing but watch helplessly.
Of the 10,000 soldiers remaining, only 2,000 were trained fighters. Facing overwhelming odds, their morale was already in tatters.
Seeing their recruited comrades surrender and flee only deepened their despair.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
Ghislain, mounted on the Black King, charged ahead. Behind him followed the superhumans and the entire Lutania army.
At the Artrode command, multiple officers from different fortresses had gathered. The senior officer, Marquis Tabok, shouted desperately:
"Hold the line! Fight to the death!"
Even as he gave the command, he turned and fled, his escort knights following close behind.
Seeing this, other fortress commanders and mages also abandoned their posts. They realized there was no hope of victory.
The rank-and-file soldiers who remained were aghast. Their leaders had deserted them, leaving them directionless.
These soldiers weren't the kingdom's elites. The best troops had already departed for Grimwell. Those left behind were barely more than recruits themselves.
With their morale shattered, they began to waver.
Ghislain roared as he charged forward.
"If you don't want to fight, get out of the way!"
Boom!
The spear in Ghislain's hand flared with a red light. He would cut down anyone who dared to block his path.
The Artrode soldiers immediately stepped aside. With their leaders gone, they had no reason to fight.
The Artrode formation split, creating a path straight through.
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!
Ghislain rode down the newly formed path without hesitation.
"Secure the prisoners and hold your position!"
Hearing the order, the Lutania army halted their advance. They began disarming the remaining Artrode soldiers and encircling them.
Only Ghislain pressed onward, chasing the fleeing commanders and mages.
"Come on, Bean. Let's push to our limits."
Whoosh!
Though Ghislain wasn't using amplification, his mana radiated a vivid red hue. The energy surged around the Black King, enveloping the massive steed.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
The sound of the Black King's hooves grew louder and more aggressive. Ghislain, bathed in red light, became a streak of red tearing through the battlefield.
Boom!
The red glow and relentless charge were like the return of the Bloody Demon, who had once terrorized the barbarians of the north.
Marquis Tabok, glancing back, was horrified.
The sight of the red-clad Ghislain bearing down on him was like staring into the face of a blood-soaked devil.
Who could call the Salvation Church the true demons?
For Tabok, it was this man, who shattered fortresses and sought the kingdom's destruction.
"S-stop him! Stop that demon!"
The fleeing mages and knights realized they couldn't outrun their pursuer.
Fortunately, their combined numbers were considerable—nearly 100 knights and mages from various fortresses.
Though low in skill, they still had numbers on their side, with 20 mages among them.
The mages unleashed their full power, casting spells at Ghislain.
Whoosh!
Flames and bursts of energy streaked toward him. Their intent wasn't to kill but to slow him down.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Ghislain didn't bother dodging. He charged through the magic unscathed, his speed undiminished.
"H-he's unstoppable!"
The mages were terrified. Even superhumans would falter under such an onslaught, yet Ghislain seemed unaffected. He was an unstoppable force.
"We're going to be caught!"
Hearing the cry, the knights turned their mounts, drew their swords, and charged.
They had no choice but to engage. The hope of survival lay only in their numbers.
Ghislain's red eyes gleamed as he swung his spear.
Boom!
"Aaargh!"
The knights screamed as their bodies were torn apart.
Though knights, these men were barely trained. Most were novices, with only the commander approaching a mid-level.
They stood no chance against Ghislain. More than half were slain in a single sweep.
Undeterred, Ghislain continued his charge.
The remaining knights, now trailing behind, saw survival as their only option and scattered in all directions.
Whoosh!
Before they could escape, Ghislain conjured spears of mana, launching them in every direction.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
"Guh…!"
The knights and mages attempting to flee were pierced through by the spears of mana, all meeting their end.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
Without looking back, Ghislain continued his relentless pursuit. Despite their head start, the commanders were ultimately caught.
"Huff, huff! I—I surrender!"
Slice!
"Spare me!"
Slice!
"W-wait!"
Slice!
Ghislain swung his spear with merciless precision, severing the heads of the commanders one by one. In the end, only Marquis Tabok remained.
When Ghislain closed in, the marquis leapt from his horse in desperation.
"Huff, huff, huff!"
Thud!
Marquis Tabok tumbled across the ground, trembling in terror.
"Duke! I am a high-ranking noble of the kingdom! Stop! Let us talk! Let us negotiate!"
Ghislain glared at him with a fierce grin.
"You dare try to bargain with me? Did you think sending those pitiful soldiers would amount to anything?"
Ghislain enjoyed war. He relished the thrill of putting his life on the line for victory.
But that didn't mean he delighted in slaughter. Quite the opposite—he loathed the act of killing the weak and innocent.
In his previous life, even the elderly and children in Perdium were mercilessly massacred. He had witnessed their bodies with his own eyes, and the pain and rage from that memory still lingered.
And now, someone had dared to push him toward such an atrocity.
Marquis Tabok, oblivious to Ghislain's inner fury, begged for his life.
"I-I only followed orders to protect the kingdom! Isn't that what war is? As a noble, I demand proper treatment!"
Ghislain stared down at him with icy contempt. What did these fools think this war was about?
Did they truly believe their titles and traditions would save them?
"So, your idea of war is to send the weak to their deaths?"
Ghislain raised his spear high.
"My war is about obliterating the Salvation Church and everyone who sides with them."
"W-wait!"
Thunk!
The spear, cloaked in a red aura, cleaved Marquis Tabok's head in two.
And with that, the battle was over. The marquis's pathetic and futile schemes had ended in a demise befitting his hubris.
When Ghislain returned, the Artrode soldiers had already been disarmed and taken prisoner.
"Assign some troops to escort the prisoners to the rear and prepare them for reorganization."
After all, the soldiers were mere pawns following orders. Those who survived would be repurposed for maintaining order and rebuilding efforts.
The Lutania army resumed its advance. This time, no one stood in their way.
The allied forces were progressing smoothly as well. The disparity in power was simply too great. The Artrode army was only delaying the inevitable.
All that remained was to eliminate the remaining garrison defending the capital.
Ghislain turned his gaze toward Grimwell.
'So, these so-called holy relics... are they truly more important to you than this entire war?'
He still couldn't understand it. The Salvation Church's obsessive focus on the holy relics, even at the cost of adopting disadvantageous strategies, baffled him.
This left a weight on Ghislain's mind, a nagging sense that there were secrets he had yet to uncover.
Unconsciously, he reached up to touch the Saintess's necklace around his neck.
***
"Khhahahahaha!"
In the grand hall of Grimwell Royal Castle, Gartros stood, blood-soaked, laughing maniacally.
The kingdom's three pillars of strength had proven formidable, but even they were no match for the overwhelming might of the Salvation Church and the Artrode Army.
Eventually, the attackers breached the castle and captured the king.
"If only you had cooperated, I might have granted you a quicker death."
Gartros muttered as he gazed down at the lifeless body of the Grimwell King, whose stomach had been impaled. But Gartros paid the corpse little mind.
'Yes, this is it. It has to be.'
In his hands, he held a simple bracelet, his eyes alight with ecstasy.
It was an unassuming piece, nothing ornate or extravagant. And that only reinforced his belief.
He had seen the Saintess's necklace in Lutania. Something so humble couldn't possibly be considered a royal treasure unless it held extraordinary significance.
"If this truly is the Saintess's bracelet..."
It would lead them to the true "king" of the Salvation Church.
Or, even if they failed to locate him, the king would inevitably find them. Such was the nature of the holy relics' "guiding" power.
Of course, they still needed to confirm its authenticity. If only they had the Holy Grail, it would have been easy—but that had been taken by Duke Fenris.
Gartros's bloodshot eyes burned with fervor as he shouted:
"Bring the sacrifices! I need ten thousand lives to awaken the holy relic's power!"
He barely managed to restrain the volatile energy surging within him.
Since their failure in Lutania, anxiety had plagued him. Now, with this potential holy relic in his grasp, his excitement was uncontainable.
Yet beneath his anticipation lurked doubt. What if this wasn't the real thing? His emotions teetered between hope and apprehension.
"No—kill everyone in this capital! Leave not a single living creature behind! Drain the blood of every soul, down to the last insect!"
Gartros's deranged screams echoed through the grand hall.
Soon, in the center of Grimwell's capital, the Salvation Church's priests began inscribing a massive magic circle.
And then...
A massacre began, one that would claim the lives of everyone within the city walls.
[T/L: I am in dire need of support. I will give discount to all those who will buy the rest of the chapters all together, so please support me the reader on my webnovel platform and read ahead chapters on my ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]