Chapter 163: The Blood-Stained Somme River (1)

“Captain Hank! Sister Rehanna!” Little Donnie hurried up to the two of them and snapped into a perfectly standard salute.

“I’m not a captain anymore. And you’re the commander of the Fourth Division now, so act like it.”

Little Donnie immediately shrank his neck back sheepishly.

“So, what new orders does the lord have?” Hank asked, his fingers rubbing against the hilt of Fleshrender while his gaze remained fixed on the enemy forces already beginning to move on the opposite bank.

Little Donnie cleared his throat and tried hard to put on a serious expression. Mimicking Nolan’s usual casual tone, he said, “The lord says Pascal has completely fallen for it. Proceed according to plan. The forces across the river are only first- and second-tier troops, so they aren’t much of a threat. Their numbers are large, though, so pay close attention to defending the flanks and preventing any breakthrough attempts from the enemy’s top-tier fighters.” He paused, lowered his voice mysteriously, and added, “Once their infantry crosses the river, use ‘that.’”

“First- and second-tier troops?” Hank frowned slightly.

Nolan was excellent in every other respect, but strange phrases always came out of his mouth, and no one knew where he learned them from. Hank did not fully understand the term, but he could clearly sense the disdain hidden within it.

Rehanna, meanwhile, cared less about that and was more curious about something else. “My lord can see through this fog?”

She knew the forest that had appeared overnight was Nolan’s doing, but the dense mist obscured not only the enemy’s vision but their own side’s as well. Nolan himself was hidden deeper within the forest, making it even harder to imagine.

Little Donnie grinned proudly and puffed out his chest. “Don’t forget that Sister Vivi and Sister Ailin are both with the lord. To those two, this little bit of fog might as well not exist.”

Understanding immediately dawned on Rehanna’s face. With the keen senses of the tigerkin girl and a heroic war spirit who had walked out of history itself, ordinary fog truly posed no obstacle.

As they spoke, the attack horns on the opposite shore had already merged into one continuous blare, while constantly waving banners transmitted command after command across the army.

Pascal’s allied forces had begun to move.

The marching columns shifted and spread out along the broad northern bank of the Somme River. The formation split into several divisions that advanced simultaneously toward the southern shore in a vast, imposing spectacle. The length of their battle line alone already far exceeded the defensive positions held by Coldsteel City.

The largest contingent consisted of light infantry clad in blue battle robes. Wearing half suits of chainmail and pointed helmets, they carried kite shields and longswords as they stepped into the icy river under the harsh shouts of their officers, struggling forward against the current.

On their flanks were warriors dressed in yellow-and-green leather armor, wielding short-handled axes and round shields. Their exposed arms bulged with knotted muscle, making it obvious at a glance that they were fearless, brutal fighters.

Behind them came the heavy infantry. They wore thick gray robes embroidered with roaring gray bears across the chest and advanced steadily toward the riverbank while shielding the longbowmen behind them, who had already begun nocking arrows.

Further out on both flanks, red-and-blue battle robes stood out conspicuously. The light cavalry had no intention of crossing head-on. Instead, they circled upstream and downstream, preparing to deliver a deadly strike from the sides once the main force tore open a breach.

The Somme River was in its dry season during autumn.

Even at Rowan Ferry, the widest section of the river, the deepest water only reached an adult man’s chest. For soldiers who were generally Bronze-tier in strength, such water posed little obstacle at all.

The reason Pascal dared to conduct such an open river crossing came from the observations he had just made.

Coldsteel City’s forces on the southern bank appeared to possess no respectable long-range firepower whatsoever.

A proper ranged formation usually consisted of archer and crossbow units supported by mage corps, yet the defenders across the river were nothing but rows of light infantry.

Archers were considered elite troops. They required long training periods, high costs, and a reliable logistical network to maintain arrow supplies, making them one of the Elfin Kingdom’s military weaknesses. As for spellcasters, they were even rarer due to the talent required.

Neither of those expensive troop types looked like something a group of rebels occupying one corner of the land could afford.

Without ranged suppression, crossing the river carried virtually no danger unless the enemy chose to charge into the water for close combat themselves. That was basic military common sense.

Pascal was confident Hank would never recklessly launch an offensive while already outnumbered.

***

Deep within the forest, Vivi extended a slender finger and gently pressed it forward. Her hand passed straight through the trunk of a massive oak tree without resistance. The trunk rippled like water, yet offered no real sensation of touch.

“How interesting. So magic can be used like this too.” She withdrew her hand and sighed in admiration.

“The first-circle elemental resonance, Mist Mirror, isn’t just some trick for broadcasting,” Nolan replied while wearing the Immovable Bulwark and conducting a final inspection of his equipment. “Magic can be applied in countless ways. That’s why mage corps hold such an important position on the battlefield. And thanks to Renee, our little trick worked perfectly.”

This forest, so realistic it was almost impossible to distinguish from the real thing, was entirely created through Renee’s elemental resonance, Mist Mirror, projecting the Borderlands Forest from dozens of miles away. Though it was only a projection, the illusion mixed with genuine mist made it almost impossible to detect in weather like this.

The sound of war horns drifted from across the river, and Vivi immediately dropped her playful mood and looked toward the riverbank beyond the fog.

A moment later, she turned back toward Nolan. “The enemy has started crossing the river. The blue-robed light infantry are forcing a frontal crossing. On the left flank are the yellow-green axemen, advancing the fastest. The right flank has gray-robed heavy infantry and archers. The cavalry on both wings are circling around and haven’t entered the water yet.”

Beside her, Ailindel stood enveloped in soul energy that blended seamlessly into the mist. She calmly added, “The blue-robed troops account for more than half of their total force.”

“Just as expected.” Nolan nodded without the slightest surprise. “The blue robes belong to Pascal’s personal army and form the core of this allied force. The rest are troops from nearby knight territories and a collection of mercenaries. The yellow-green troops belong to Knight Verdi. His territory borders swamps and dense forests, so his people specialize in short-handled axes. They usually carry several spare ones and like to throw them during charges. The gray robes belong to Knight Claw. That guy is obsessed with turtle-shell defensive tactics. He loves putting heavy infantry up front to absorb pressure while the longbowmen behind them maintain suppressive firepower. Out of all of them, he poses the greatest threat to our position. As for those red-and-blue light cavalry, they’re Knight Finley barbarian cavalry regiment. Even though they count as light cavalry, they aren’t skilled mounted archers. They prefer close combat and usually carry short spears. The rest are probably miscellaneous mercenaries. Rehanna might even know some of them.”

Nolan listed the origins and characteristics of the enemy forces with astonishing familiarity, to the point that even Kayan, standing beside him, was visibly shocked.

In the Elfin Kingdom of this era, military organization was chaotic. Not only did noble private armies differ wildly from one another, even the kingdom’s official legions varied enormously in structure and tactics.

How did the lord know all of this so thoroughly?

The incarnation of God, who knows all things and brings blessings to the world… Kayan silently recited a prayer in his heart, his gaze toward Nolan becoming even more devout.

Ailindel withdrew the soul energy she had spread outward. For her, a battlefield of this scale barely counted as a warm-up.

She smiled faintly at Nolan. “They didn’t leave behind any reserves. Aside from fewer than fifty cavalry remaining beside the commanding general, they’re clearly planning to decide the battle in one strike. We’re being underestimated.”

“Perfect,” Nolan said as he rolled his wrist, causing his armor to click sharply. “That saves us the trouble.” Turning around, he issued orders to the silent steel legion behind him, “All units, prepare yourselves. It’ll soon be time for the protagonists to take the stage.”

A burst of clattering metal rang out before quickly fading back into silence.

“Protagonists?” Vivi raised a brow as she mounted her warhorse. “You sound unusually confident today.”

She pulled her cloak around herself, hiding beneath the shadow of her hood. Behind her, more than a hundred black-clad warriors dressed in the same fashion assembled soundlessly before vanishing into the mist like ghosts.

“Everyone is the protagonist of their own story,” Nolan said with enough ease to even joke at a moment like this. “And I just happen to be very good at writing the enemy’s ending.”

“See you later.”

Vivi did not look back. She merely waved a hand before leading her forces deeper into the forest, disappearing like phantoms.

“My lord, we’ll head to our assigned positions as well.”

Kayan and Renee bowed respectfully toward Nolan.

“May victory favor you.”

“Go on. Be careful,” Nolan instructed before turning toward the visibly nervous Renee, his tone softening considerably. “Renee, someone will be protecting you. Just be brave and focus on doing your part.”

“Mhm!” Renee nodded vigorously.

Once everyone else had departed, only Nolan and the several hundred silent black-armored soldiers behind him remained in the forest clearing.

Nolan made his final preparations and poured all of his remaining experience into Glory Guardian, completing his first fully maxed advanced class. His overall level rose to Level 41.

At that moment, the system finally displayed the notification he had been waiting for.

【Congratulations! Advanced class “Glory Guardian” has reached max level! Aura effects increased by 5%.】

【Ultimate Skill Unlocked: Oathguard Judgment.】

This was exactly what he had been waiting for. The ultimate skills of hidden classes were all monstrously powerful.

Nolan’s spirits lifted immediately. He then reached into a leather pouch hanging from the side of his saddle and pulled out a crystal vial. Inside swirled a ruby-red liquid that emitted an eerie glow. Holding the vial aloft, he turned toward the Black Armored Legion he had built with his own hands and revealed a rare smile tinged with madness.

“Let’s begin.”