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Chapter 152: The Camp Raid
🕑 Added 2025-01-13 02:28:12 +0000 UTCCharlot did not delay his journey this time and soon encountered a group of routed soldiers.
As before, Charlot gathered these stragglers. He had brought ten regular combat squads precisely for this purpose. By the time he approached Mostar Castle, his forces had grown to over five thousand men.
At this moment, Mostar Castle, the capital of the Behemoth Principality, was completely besieged by the army of the South Seraph restorationists. The atmosphere on the city walls was heavy with despair, and the soldiers were few and far between.
Charlot spotted the banner of his "old friend," Hughes, alongside the flags of several other South Seraph restorationist factions. It seemed the army had only recently completed their encirclement, as their formation was still somewhat loose.
Charlot immediately abandoned his plan to take advantage of the situation and sneak into Mostar Castle. Entering the castle would make him the proverbial fish in a barrel, and escaping alive would be near impossible.
He set up a temporary encampment a few dozen kilometers from the South Seraph restorationist camp, using carriages for fortification. Taking Dubin Alger with him, Charlot set out to scout the enemy.
Dubin, mounted on his Argento horse, was responsible for intelligence gathering and commanded a small cavalry unit. However, given the life-or-death stakes, Charlot chose to oversee the reconnaissance himself. He had long resolved to retreat at the first sign of trouble, prioritizing his own survival above all else.
He was not one of those who declared, "Life is but a trifling matter!"
The two set off together, and Dubin soon noticed that Charlot’s speed was astonishingly fast, keeping pace with his Argento horse.
Since mastering Radiant Battle Energy, Charlot’s speed had increased significantly, and he was nearing a breakthrough to the second tier.
In this world, fairness was a rare commodity. Many people spend decades without touching the edge of transcendence, while some achieve high-level extraordinary abilities at a young age.
Dubin, having missed many opportunities in his youth, chose to focus on honing his swordsmanship and cultivating his life essence. As a result, when he did break through, his progress was rapid due to his accumulated strength.
Dubin had thought that as a fully-fledged knight with an Argento horse, his speed would outclass the entire West Wind Knight Order. Charlot, however, had no interest in competing over such trivial matters. When he arrived near Hughes’ camp, he surveyed it briefly from afar.
Charlot’s Eye of Insight could not see over such a great distance. Unlike telescopic techniques, it provided a full panorama rather than a zoomed-in view. Even if he could see that far, he wouldn’t dare; attempting such techniques in front of a Saint-ranked individual was tantamount to courting death.
After observing for a while, Charlot moved to another enemy camp.
The South Seraph restorationists were not a unified army. There were seven or eight factions within their ranks. When Jonan was alive, he managed to suppress the other leaders with his status. However, after Charlot had killed Jonan with an arrow, Hughes lacked the authority to command the remaining factions.
This camp echoed with faint cries of anguish. Charlot listened for a moment before turning away, understanding that someone inside was likely being tortured. Knowing he lacked the ability to save them, he told Dubin, “Let’s scout another camp.”
Dubin muttered angrily, “These South Seraph people are unbelievably cruel.”
Charlot sighed. He understood well the hatred the South Seraph people bore toward the Behemoth Principality. Had the Behemoth Principality not betrayed them, they would not be vassals of South Seraph but an independent principality like Behemoth. Nor would they have lost so many lives in the war.
However, while Charlot disapproved of the South Seraph people’s treatment of Behemoth civilians, he knew his opinion was merely one perspective. He was certain that, if debated on Earth’s social platforms, the matter would yield six or seven different views.
Such issues: endless debate, no resolution!
As Charlot stood up, he immediately crouched down again, pulling Dubin down with him. Dubin, a seasoned fighter, didn’t ask why and instead drew a Magnum Mauler with one hand while gripping his sword hilt with the other.
Soon, they heard the sound of a large group of people moving. Exchanging glances, they both looked surprised.
Charlot thought to himself, “Which army is this?”
“Are they planning to raid this camp? That’s a suicidal move.”
“I must intervene and save them.”
After a moment’s calculation, Charlot decided not to reveal himself immediately. Appearing too early could lead to misunderstandings or even being mistaken for an enemy. He planned to act once the attackers were in danger, allowing his actions to speak louder than words and immediately win their trust.
The group quickly passed by Charlot and Dubin’s hiding spot. Using his Eye of Insight, Charlot noted their attire, which clearly marked them as Behemoth soldiers. Half of them wore military uniforms, while the others seemed to be noble retainers. Leading them was a young girl dressed in exquisitely tailored garments of fine material.
“This style... I’ve seen Annie wear something like this!” Charlot murmured, deducing that the girl was a noble lady from the Behemoth Principality. However, he couldn’t identify her family, as such matters weren’t his area of expertise.
As the group neared the South Seraph camp, the girl drew two rapiers from her waist and charged forward, cutting down two sentries with a flash of her blade.
Charlot was slightly taken aback. “Impressive swordsmanship! That’s the Hartington Thunder and Storm University’s secret sword art. The last time I saw it was with Annie’s cousin, Clair Bretagne.”
Hartington Thunder and Storm University produced the most grand knights. Whether Thunder Knights or Storm Knights, they were among the finest knightly traditions on the Old Continent.
Only the secret arts of the Ebrelrahan Clan could rival their techniques.
This girl, like Clair Bretagne, practiced both the Thunder and Storm traditions. One blade crackled with lightning, arcs of electricity dancing across its surface, while the other summoned a storm, as if intent on annihilating all enemies.
Despite her youth, the girl exuded an invincible and fearsome aura on the battlefield. Aside from her relatively low strength, she was nearly the ideal female knight.
By the time the girl struck down her seventh soldier, her blade was finally blocked. Opposing her was a vampire knight, clearly of the Ebrelrahan Clan, who sneered as his sword targeted the flaws in her technique.
Charlot couldn’t help but mutter, “They were prepared for this!”
“For the enemy to resist a raid at the camp’s gates shows they anticipated this. It also proves the commander of this unit has no concept of countering a camp raid. Shouldn’t they have set an ambush?”
Charlot quietly criticized their tactics, embracing his armchair strategist persona. Dubin, his sole audience, was utterly baffled by his remarks.
The Old Continent lacked sophisticated military tactics. Battles were often decided by the duels of extraordinary leaders, followed by a straightforward advance. Concepts like counter-raids and ambushes were neither taught in schools nor implemented in wars.
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