Chapter 87. Consecrator of the Beast Hide (3)

The plan is simple.

The core is to destroy his ‘fortress.’

The [Wild Consecrator] trait mutates the forest to create a living fortress.

A tricky enemy.

Because plants don't have vitals like a heart or a neck.

This means that the effectiveness of cold weapons like spears, swords, or arrows is greatly reduced.

Moreover, when completed, the scale of the fortress becomes as large as a small forest.

“You, you…!”

Grok-Tau’s face contorted.

He must have realized what the sound of the cannon fire from a moment ago was.

Well, he must have experience fighting humans.

As Kkumteuli said, the best way to deal with a living fortress is firepower.

Spells.

Or artillery fire.

The former is easy to detect.

And easy to block.

Grok-Tau is a warrior and a shaman at the same time.

So I chose artillery fire.

The key is how to strike.

I divided the operation into two stages.

The first stage is to lead the army myself to confirm the location of the fortress.

Afterward, I would send a ranger to a designated location to relay the fortress' position to the artillery corps, which would have already set up their guns, and handle it with long-range shelling.

The crucial factor here is time.

No matter how fast a ranger is in the forest, it takes time to get to where the artillery corps is.

It would also take some time to calculate the firing angle based on the distance and adjust the position and angle of the mortars.

Fortunately, in this regard, William’s excellent artillery skills and the map created by the Imperial army during the Wolfskrig subjugation were helpful.

In the midst of tension.

A few seconds passed.

It was about time.

As if sensing the impending disaster with his animalistic senses, Grok-Tau turned his body towards the beastmen and shouted.

“Protect the fortre-!”

Too late.

Wheeeeee-

The sound of shells falling, as if tearing through the air.

And.

Kaboom!

KABOOM-!!

The fortress he prided himself on became a sea of fire.

Flames and explosions soared high between the trees.

The beastmen in the rear fell in droves from the fire and shock.

Grok-Tau let out an unintelligible roar at them.

I have no intention of waiting.

I raised my sword.

“2nd Battalion, volley fire!”

“Archers, fire!”

“Crossbowmen!”

“Riflemen, fire!”

[The Archer Squad deploys [Volley].]

[The Crossbow Squad deploys [Volley].]

[The Rifle Squad deploys [Volley].]

[The Reconnaissance Company deploys [Ranger’s Rapid Shot].]

Rat-tat-tat-tat!

Shhhheeeeik-

Arrows and bullets rained down.

The beastmen, pushed from behind by the blast pressure, now collapsed from the arrows and bullets flying from the front.

A few arrows struck the [Barrier] I had deployed behind me just in time.

As I quickly retreated and observed, Grok-Tau's face was once again contorted.

He probably didn't expect it.

That we would unleash indiscriminate fire while a commander was in the line of fire.

“Human Warchief! Are you running away-!”

What is he saying?

I have no intention of fighting alone.

That’s what training is for.

The long-term training that has been going on since I first created the mercenary band.

The inexperienced mercenaries became well-trained soldiers, and soon became platoon and company commanders, leading the newly joined soldiers.

As the quality of the incoming forces improved, the growth from within also kept pace.

Through numerous training sessions and actual battles in a short period of time, my army rapidly became elite.

They will now play their part.

While the enemy forces staggered from the volley, another round of shelling struck the ‘fortress.’

The tar-mixed incendiary shells completely burned down his fortress with a fire that would not be extinguished even in the rain.

Black smoke billows up.

I rejoined the soldiers.

Standing at the forefront, I looked back at the soldiers.

In my left hand, I hold the [Shield] formed on my staff, and in my right, my sword.

[[Lord’s Unyielding Mind] is deployed.]

[[Commander’s Roar] is deployed.]

“All troops, wipe out the beasts that have invaded our territory!”

***

The battlefield is full of variables.

Therefore, tactics must be flexible.

Both when I played Warlord Conquest and in this final playthrough that has become reality, I tried to devise as diverse and creative tactics as possible for each battle.

But I suppose I'm only human.

Seeing that I've eventually developed a kind of habit, like favorite tactics for different situations.

When playing as the Empire faction, a favorite strategy in defensive sieges was to lure and then annihilate with firepower.

In field battles, there are a few.

One of them is to block the escape route and then encircle and annihilate.

That is today’s tactic.

Fwoooosh…!

The escape route was blocked.

By the enemy’s ‘fortress,’ engulfed in flames after being hit by two rounds of incendiary shelling.

Three directions remain.

We move according to plan.

[The Spearman Squad deploys [Spear Wall: Charge].]

[The Swordsman Squad deploys [Shield Wall: Charge].]

“Charge! Forward-!”

The 1st Battalion, led by Damas, takes the front.

The spearmen, who once struggled to even form a single shield wall, could now push forward as one solid mass with their spearheads pointed at the enemy.

The individual physical abilities of the beastmen are superior, but a group strength fight is different.

The wall of steel easily crushed the beastly horde.

“Push! Stab! Push! Stab!”

“Die, you beast bastards!”

Kuaaaaaa-!

[[Warrior’s Binding] is deployed.]

[Slain enemy bound…….]

The number of bound troops, which had been depleted by nearly half in the Battle of Berenburg, is rapidly filling up.

I confirmed the battlefield while cutting down a Horned One.

It's very difficult to see the entire battlefield while dealing with the enemy in front of you, but the minimap in my head created by [Battlefield-Overlooking Gaze] made it easier.

In an encirclement and annihilation, the flanks are more important than the front.

No matter how well the front holds, if the charge on the flanks is weak, it's all for naught.

The right flank is the 3rd and 4th Battalions.

Olif and Randal.

[The Knights deploy [Wedge Formation Charge].]

[The Cavalry deploys [Mounted Charge].]

[The Greatswordsmen deploy [Breach Formation]….]

[The Halberdiers….]

“For the Empire! For Wolfskrig!”

Olif's command.

And Randal's breakthrough power.

Empowered by the two, the knights and soldiers are literally tearing the beastmen apart.

The battle on the left flank is also successful.

That's where I am.

I led the paladins and Imperial soldiers to strike directly.

[The Imperial Swordsmen deploy [Shield Wall: Advance].]

[The Paladins deploy [Formation of the Radiant Spearhead].]

The battle continues.

It's gradually turning into a melee.

In the midst of the melee, I found the enemy commander.

I plan to settle things with him right now.

Even though we have the upper hand, Grok-Tau is a dangerous opponent.

This time, he was careless.

Next time, he won't be.

If by any chance I let him escape, I will have to face his complete fortress.

“Tambourine, take command.”

“Yessir!”

That situation must be prevented.

Finding him was not difficult.

I confirmed his location on the minimap in my head.

I entrusted the command of the paladins and Imperial soldiers comprising the left flank to Tambourine and moved as if possessed into the melee.

Guooooooook!

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is deployed.]

Crack!

I cut the neck of a charging Horned One warrior.

Entering a melee is like stepping into a swamp.

In that thoughts become faint and the body struggles on its own for survival.

If you don't stay focused, you'll be sucked in helplessly.

The more you struggle, the deeper you sink.

“Ugh, ugh-aaaaah!”

Suddenly, I saw one of our spearmen.

He was caught by a Minotaur.

Far.

A distance my sword cannot reach.

“H-Help…!”

A scene from a nightmare overlaps.

The nightmare of Gunterburk.

The scene of a soldier’s head bursting in the grasp of a giant beast.

But why?

Is Randal’s voice coming to mind?

‘Let your heart, not your head, wield the sword.’

I still don’t understand, but.

[[Warrior’s Insight] is deployed.]

I feel like I somehow know.

[Exploring the origin of [Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword].]

Something flows in.

A strange sensation.

Breath, posture, movement of limbs, the path of the sword.

It feels as if someone's memory, engraved beyond what my body has already learned, is seeping in.

Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword.

I know the setting.

It was a swordsmanship passed down to the monks of the Tuivat Mountains, created to protect fellow monks.

One thing is certain.

“H-Help…!”

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is deployed.]

The swift sword of the Tuivat Mountains is a sword for protecting.

I have soldiers to protect.

***

In the Tuivat Mountains, there was a nameless monk.

Does a harsh era make a hero?

The era the nameless monk lived in was also a harsh one.

He was born on the mountain.

In a small hut, to a hunter's family.

Twelve years old.

He lost his parents.

Seeing a monster break down the door of his house, he ran to a nearby temple for help, but it was too late.

By the time the spear-wielding monks arrived, his parents and younger siblings had already been brutally murdered by the monster.

He regretted it.

If he had been faster, he could have saved them.

The first form of the swift sword came from that.

‘Passing Slash.’

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is deployed.]

One step.

I take it.

The surrounding scenery flashes past my vision.

The green and brown of the forest, the red of the flames, the fur of the beasts, and the glint of metal mix and blur into a hazy afterimage.

Swish-!

“Gasp…. Th-Thank you!”

I cut the wrist of the Minotaur holding the soldier.

The beast roared and retreated.

Thud! Crack!

I dodge the axe.

And cut the other wrist.

With the soldier who has been with me through countless battlefields at my back.

Even then, an unknown memory tickled my inner self.

[[Warrior’s Insight] is deployed.]

[Exploring the origin of [Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword].]

There was one survivor.

His youngest sibling was alive.

He entered the temple with his sibling.

He had a talent for the sword, so he honed his swordsmanship.

Twenty years old.

The monk lost his sibling.

This time, too, it was a monster.

He had an axe, but he couldn't do anything.

Because for a moment, his hands wouldn't work.

Only after his sibling's throat was torn out did he bring down the axe.

The monster, barely the size of a fox, was split in one blow.

If his hands had been faster, he could have saved them.

It was the second form of the swift sword.

‘Splitting.’

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is deployed.]

“Watch out, Your Lordship!”

The Minotaur charging head-on with its horns was split in half.

Guts and blood spill out, drenching my body.

I roughly wipe my slippery hands and pull the soldier up.

“Get up.”

“H-How….”

“Take up your spear. Rejoin your comrades and fight together.”

I send the soldier away and look around.

I saw soldiers surrounded by beastmen everywhere.

[[Warrior’s Insight] is deployed.]

[Exploring the origin of [Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword].]

Thirty years old.

The monk lost his family.

They were the monks of the temple he was with.

In a particularly cold winter, a large horde of monsters descended, and his second family, which had replaced the void of his first, was torn apart.

His feet were fast enough.

His hands were fast enough.

But he could only cut down one monster at a time.

By the time he had slain all the monsters, no one but him had survived.

He cleared the monster carcasses and buried his second family one by one inside the temple.

By the time he made the last grave, the first grave he made was covered in a blanket of snow.

Snow had also piled up on the monk's shoulders.

The third form of the swift sword.

‘Hacking.’

I take a step.

As if gliding.

An axe flies.

I block the handle and cut as I glide.

Gwoeok-!

I cut an arm, then a leg.

After dismembering the falling beastman at the waist, I take the next step.

Three of them charge.

I just need to split them three times.

From top to bottom, the shoulder.

Then from bottom to top, diagonally.

After cutting one's shoulder and another's chest, I strike down from above again to split a head.

[[Tuivat High Priest's Swift Sword] is deployed.]

[[Warrior’s Insight] is deployed.]

The monk secluded himself in a remote temple and refined his swordsmanship.

Little by little, I feel him.

I don't understand it with my head.

It's not just that my body remembers.

I feel it with my heart.

The memories.

The emotions.

The days of the one who created this swordsmanship.

I cut and split everything that passes.

My hands and feet are both fast, yet they match perfectly, forming a single dance.

If the hand's reach is short, the foot brings the hand.

The hand clears the obstacles on the path the steps take.

Swoooosh…!

The rain-soaked armor makes my body heavier than usual, but my mind is clearer than ever.

Did the monk feel the same fulfillment?

No.

He did not.

Because even though he killed countless enemies, his family did not return.

Because the graves of his fellow monks became mounds frozen solid in the harsh winter weather.

Because there was nothing left to protect.

Instead, in his old age, he traveled between temples, teaching the sword to young monks, and then died.

So that the next generation could protect what he could not.

I am grateful.

And I return this fulfillment to him.

The emotion he should have felt, but could not.

I lowered my sword.

My feet also stopped.

There were no more enemies to cut around me.

The beastmen, surrounded and their morale broken, began to flee, and our knights and rangers were in pursuit.

All that remained in the clearing was their chieftain, a single Minotaur.

I approached him.

“Your Lordship! We won! Uh…?”

Someone ran up.

It was old man Brol.

It seems he didn’t see Grok-Tau, as the area was a mess of corpses and blood.

The Minotaur’s eyes glinted.

His staff pointed at the approaching Brol.

The staff did not shoot fireballs, poison arrows, or any gloomy light.

The moment he raised his staff, I swung my sword.

Splat.

The forearm, cut along with the staff, fell to the ground.

“Human Warchief, I heard you were a spellcaster.”

“……”

“Were you hiding your skills as a swordsman?”

There’s no reason to answer.

Splat!

The Minotaur's head fell into the mud.

A few hours later, Karen and Olif reported that they had killed most of the beastmen remnants.

During the pursuit, Karen said she found something strange.

“It was a cave littered with things like mine carts, railway tracks, and wooden support beams.”

An abandoned mine.

Three hundred years ago, Wolfskrig was one of the centers of the steel industry.

This was the reason why I absolutely had to reclaim this forest.