WebNovels

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Rising Army

Chapter 2: The Rising Army

The dawn mist clung to the slopes of the mountains, weaving through the cedars and pines like ghostly fingers, carrying the scent of damp earth, cold stone, and distant smoke from villages that had survived the fires. Nobunaga stood atop a ridge, katana sheathed, eyes scanning the valleys below where hidden paths wound between rice paddies and scattered farmhouses. He could feel the pulse of the land, the rhythm of the terrain, as if the mountains themselves were whispering guidance. His body, honed from weeks of relentless training, ached with exhaustion yet thrummed with vitality, every muscle attuned to the motion of his warriors, every breath synchronized to the rhythm of unseen armies. He had survived betrayal and fire, been granted the knowledge of centuries of martial mastery, and now, armed with strategy and purpose, he would gather the scattered faithful to forge an army capable of bending history itself.

Movement appeared at the edge of the mist: a lone samurai, cautious, wary, but drawn by the presence of the man whose legend had once promised protection. Nobunaga greeted him with a nod, calm yet commanding, and in his eyes was a fire that spoke of vision, vengeance, and divine purpose. The samurai approached, feet careful on wet stones, and as he bowed, Nobunaga sensed the weight of fear, the remnants of grief from comrades lost, the memory of missions betrayed, and he spoke words that carried authority and hope. Tales of second chances, survival, and salvation poured from his lips, and the samurai's hesitation melted, replaced by recognition of a leader reborn, a protector of faith, a warrior who had walked through fire and returned. One by one, others emerged from the trees and villages, drawn by the same silent signal of resolve, each bearing scars of battles lost, each carrying the faith in secret, each yearning for a chance to strike back at history's cruelty. Nobunaga welcomed them without hesitation, assigning tasks not just with authority but with a vision that intertwined every action with purpose: the survival of Christianity, the protection of loyal allies, and the creation of a force forged in both skill and belief.

Training began immediately, the air filling with the clang of steel, the swish of blades cutting through morning mist, and the rhythmic thud of feet against stone and soil. Nobunaga led by example, moving through drills with spear, katana, naginata, and dagger, each motion precise, fluid, and historically grounded, adapted to the terrain and the culture of Japanese warfare. Men struggled, muscles screaming, lungs burning, yet his presence radiated certainty and strength, and slowly, their movements sharpened, synchronizing with the rhythm he set. He integrated Roman formations into the ashigaru units, teaching cohesion and discipline, layered Greek phalanx tactics onto spear lines to enhance defense and offense, and drew from Chinese generals' strategies to teach ambushes, flanking maneuvers, and battlefield foresight. Even the stealthy, silent movements of ninja were woven into his instruction, transforming terrain into an ally, teaching every soldier to move as if the forest itself bore witness to their vigilance.

Days melted into nights and back again, a cycle of training, reflection, and forging. Nobunaga oversaw the hammering, folding, quenching, and tempering of steel, each katana, yari, and naginata becoming an extension of the warrior wielding it. The forge blazed with heat, flames licking stone and metal, sparks dancing into the smoke-laden air, and the scent of molten iron and scorched wood filled every corner of the ridge. Soldiers observed, learning the weight of steel, the balance of weapon, the precision of every strike, the discipline required to create instruments of war that were not only lethal but perfect in form. His own hands moved with ease, hammer striking metal, flame caressing the edge, sweat mixing with soot, every motion both art and preparation for the battles to come.

The evenings were devoted to study and strategy, Sun Tzu's Art of War laid out upon the soil, rocks marking positions, lines drawn with charcoal. Nobunaga's mind mapped battles before they were fought, envisioning every step, anticipating every movement of enemies who had yet to exist in his own time. Terrain, morale, timing, deception, and opportunity were analyzed with meticulous care, integrating knowledge of Christian allies who had fallen after his death, understanding their failures to prevent repeating them. He considered villages loyal to the faith, isolated missionaries, and hidden converts, weaving them into plans for both defense and offense. Each day's sweat, every strike and maneuver, every forged blade, was a step toward a force that would not merely react but dominate, one that would protect the innocent, preserve faith, and rewrite the mistakes of history.

The growing army adapted quickly, absorbing techniques from multiple eras and cultures, their minds sharpening as much as their bodies. Nobunaga's instruction was relentless, blending Japanese fighting style with foreign methods, translating Roman logistical precision into supply line management, Greek cohesion into tactical drills, Chinese battlefield foresight into ambushes, and ninja stealth into reconnaissance and infiltration. The air was filled with the scent of pine, sweat, smoke, and iron; the sound of metal striking metal, wood thudding against earth, and the whisper of movements through misted undergrowth; the taste of ash and blood mingling with the cool morning air; the tactile reality of muscles burning, skin chafing, hands blistering, yet growing stronger, harder, faster. Every sense was engaged, every nerve refined.

Months passed, and the army, once a scattered assembly of survivors, became a cohesive unit, disciplined, lethal, and imbued with purpose. Nobunaga walked among them, observing each soldier, correcting form, encouraging, instructing, inspiring. Even in the darkness of night, by flickering torchlight, he tested their endurance, stealth, and resolve. Scouts practiced infiltration, ashigaru moved in disciplined formations, samurai executed complex maneuvers, and every soldier internalized the rhythm of battle, the flow of strategy, and the weight of faith. Each man and woman understood that their loyalty was not only to a commander but to a divine mission, the preservation of lives and beliefs that might otherwise vanish.

In moments of quiet, Nobunaga reflected on those lost, the Christian allies who had suffered after his death, the missionaries hunted through narrow alleys, the daimyō betrayed, and the cities that had burned. He could see them clearly in his mind, feel the sorrow and injustice of their fates, and let that grief sharpen his resolve rather than weaken it. Their memories became part of the army's training, lessons encoded in every formation, every exercise, every forged weapon. He spoke to his soldiers of these histories, embedding the weight of purpose into their hearts, making each man and woman aware of what they fought to protect.

By the full moon, Nobunaga's army was ready. It was a force born of sweat, blood, knowledge, faith, and devotion, honed through relentless practice, tempered in fire, and unified under purpose. They could march, strike, defend, and vanish into the mist, a perfect blend of Japanese discipline and foreign mastery, an army capable of bending history, protecting the faithful, and defying the tragedies that had once befallen them. Nobunaga stood atop the ridge, katana glinting in moonlight, the scent of pine and smoke filling his senses, and knew that the second dawn was not merely the rebirth of a man, but the awakening of a force that would change the course of history. Christianity would endure, allies would survive, and the legacy of the fallen would find its champion. The path was clear, the purpose unyielding, and Nobunaga, tempered by fire, knowledge, and divine purpose, would lead them into a future that no betrayal could undo.

More Chapters