Translator: Cinder Translations
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"Stop them from escaping!"
Amur swung his large blade and shouted the command.
The orc soldiers beside him immediately drew their bows and shot arrows at the fleeing human civilians.
The battlefield echoed with screams as countless individuals fell to the ground, both orcs and civilians.
Joyce frowned.
"I need you to hold this position for now!"
Knight Renteria was extremely surprised. "What do you mean? Are you going to fight?"
"Yes!"
"I advise you to be cautious."
"Thank you!"
Despite the warning, Joyce gave the order, and the soldiers of the third battalion stepped forward and formed ranks.
Amur laughed loudly. These foolish humans had lost the protection of the fortress. He wondered how they would stand up to his grasslands warriors now.
"Warriors, gather! Our moment of glory is here!"
"Roar! Roar!"
The sound of warriors growling around him was deafening. The orc warriors, their eyes wide with fury, swore to avenge the humiliation of the previous day.
They no longer cared about the fleeing civilians and began to regroup for close combat.
On the human side, the sound of steady drumbeats echoed as the soldiers marched to the beat.
"Impressive!"
Amur clicked his tongue in admiration. Did the human commander have a compulsion for order? It must have taken great effort to train them this way.
He had fought in the Valley of the Sunset, and even the royal troops from Crystal Glare couldn't keep such perfect formation during their march.
"Warriors, move forward!"
Under his command, the orcs began their advance.
Boom! Boom!
Unexpectedly, the strange weapons on Silver Moon Fortress fired again with a loud noise!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Before they could dodge, several dark shadows leaped into the orc ranks, bouncing around, and casualties followed.
The orc formation was immediately thrown into chaos. Having learned from yesterday's lesson, the soldiers instinctively scattered.
"These lunatics! Don't they care if they hit their own men?"
Amur was both surprised and angry. If he were in charge of a crossbow, he certainly wouldn't fire when both sides were so close. Who knew who would get hit?
He signaled for his troops to regroup, but as soon as a few soldiers gathered, deadly iron balls came whizzing in, forcing them to scatter again.
To Amur's surprise, the human weapons repeatedly fired without hitting their own people.
Such precision!
The artillery of the Alden army was divided into three groups and alternated firing to maintain consistent firepower.
Because their usual scale was smaller, they had ample ammunition to train with, and this group of artillerymen were all skilled veterans.
Furthermore, before the orcs arrived, they had carefully surveyed and experimented with shooting the area in front of Silver Moon Fortress, calculating exactly what angle and amount of gunpowder to use at different distances. Most of the data was already available.
The battlefield presented a stark contrast: the human army marched in perfect formation, while the orcs were scattered and disorganized as they closed in.
As a commander, Amur had already predicted the outcome.
Once they met in close combat, the human weapons would likely stop firing to avoid friendly fire.
But so what? The scattered orc soldiers would still face a wall of spears (bayonets).
The grasslands warriors were tall, strong, and skilled, but with only two hands, they couldn't resist when weapons that outnumbered them by multiples came from all directions.
But Amur still wanted to take a gamble.
Private Hesse West knelt on one knee, his palms sweating with nervousness.
He had already aimed at an orc soldier, just waiting for the command…
"Fire!"
Bam! Without thinking, he instinctively pulled the trigger.
The vicious orc collapsed to the ground 60 feet away and didn't get up.
He let out a sigh of relief, his body remembering to reload the gun.
He heard the second row of soldiers firing, and a few more charging orcs fell.
When Joyce commanded the charge, Hesse's heart was in his throat, half from nervousness and half from fear.
After all, he had only joined the army for a little over a year and had never experienced real combat.
But orders were orders, and Hesse followed the team step by step towards the orcs.
Behind them, the artillery continued to fire, preventing the long-haired orcs from clustering together.
The sound of artillery whizzing overhead was terrifying, and every time Hesse heard it, he instinctively shrank his neck.
Fortunately, he had been trained, so his legs didn't give way.
The veteran soldiers around him were unfazed.
In the Alden army, coordination between infantry and artillery was a critical skill.
Lord Grayman required that artillery accompany infantry attacks so the enemy couldn't approach in tight formation.
Of course, the premise was not to hit their own troops.
Hesse mechanically fired shot after shot. Unfortunately, he ran into trouble—his gun misfired.
Damn it, a filthy orc was charging straight at him!
Thud!
He froze for a moment, and a comrade beside him quickly stabbed the orc in the neck with a bayonet.
The orc's blood, probably from a severed artery, sprayed all over Hesse's face.
Ugh!
He spat it out.
Amur's eyes nearly shot fire. He had lost the gamble.
He hated Silver Moon Fortress, hated the damned slope, but most of all, he hated this unfamiliar human army in front of him.
Many warriors had charged to a distance close enough to attack, only to be killed.
Because they couldn't cover each other.
When the fighting got close, the weapons behind the human ranks didn't stop firing. Instead, they kept threatening the orcs' rear ranks.
The orcs were almost forced into a desperate tactic.
What angered Amur more was that his warriors' bravery wasn't able to make a difference—human soldiers used their firearms to knock them down one by one.
Those few orcs who managed to get close were drowned in a forest of bayonets.
The only consolation was that some orc warriors switched to bows, causing some casualties.
"Retreat!"
He had no choice but to make the painful decision.
The orcs retreated—this time, it was a true retreat.
Because the orcs were on horseback, Joyce did not pursue.
He led his soldiers back to Silver Moon Fortress, where they were greeted with cheers.
Knight Renteria's gaze towards Joyce grew more and more admiring.
Meanwhile, his artillery commander, Bastion, looked relieved.
He asked in confusion, "What's wrong?"
"The gun barrels are starting to overheat. If the battle continues, we'll have to suspend support for you."
"Uh…"
Joyce choked up, his face turning red.
He had forgotten about that detail during the battle.
Real combat was different from training—people tended to forget things when under stress and excitement.
Thank the Light Lord, the long-haired bastards had retreated.
Even if the artillery had to stop, Joyce was confident that the infantry with their firearms and bayonets could still repel the orcs.
The scales were similar, and although the orcs had more soldiers, they did not overwhelm them.
But letting the orcs regroup for an attack would undoubtedly cause more casualties.
He'd have to remember this in the future.
(End of the Chapter)
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