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The Calamitous Bob 233: War
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 17:06:33 +0000 UTCCrest watched the battlefield from above, among the many mage flights serving Oleander. It was early afternoon in the Harrakan heartlands. The ground between the two army was unseeded soil, brown and a little dry. The army to his back numbered almost a hundred and ten thousand soldiers — the largest force ever assembled by a human nation. In front of him, the allied armies gathered maybe forty thousand soldiers. Despite being severely outnumbered, they were still the second largest force ever assembled by a human alliance. Knight orders, national armies, mercenary groups, religious orders, city guards and even non-human auxiliaries of the Harrakans formed multicolored, eclectic lines, columns, and squares barded with metal and a desire to kill. It was the largest conflict in history, and he was part of it.
Below, the last group leaders gathered near Oleander at his summons. Crest flew down to join them. For his last council before battle was joined, Oleander had picked the town square of one of the many fortified villages that seemed so common in the reclaimed lands. He looked regal standing above a humble table holding a hastily made map. The leaders of his soldiers waited at a distance with varying degrees of enthusiasm. King Marzak of Baran and King Sangor of Enoria were not exactly jumping with joy.
“Today, we end the war for unification,” Oleander said with zeal. “It will be a chance for you to show your conviction, to prove that you have what it takes to lead your tribes and kingdoms in the glorious future that awaits us. You will take the field and prove the might of Maranor. We will lose people against a determined, entrenched foe, but it is the final sacrifice before our ultimate victory, and no price is too high to see success. We have struggled long and hard but this is it. This is the last obstacle.”
People studiously avoided Sangor since his previous overreach meant he would be dead before the end of the month. Nothing less than full commitment would be tolerated.
“Since they know our opponents well, our Paramese friends will be the first to attack while the other armies prepare a camp,” Oleander said.
No one here was foolish enough to miss the real message: the more unreliable elements were going to be sacrifices to detect what sort of traps the malicious Harrakans had prepared. It came as a surprise to absolutely no one. Sangor sneered, then his hand raised in question.
Crest had to admire the man’s courage, if not his wisdom.
“Should you not be attacking the witch? Surely her death will put an immediate end to the war?”
The generals shuffled a little. He was a pariah and a dead man walking but… he had a point, Crest thought.
“I will be getting to this, but do not think the war ends with her death. A great many enemies are too deeply manipulated by her words to stand down now. It will be a fight to the death, and I cannot kill so many alone, or quickly. I do not need to remind you of our food situation, ladies and gentlemen? If you want access to Harrakan granaries then I’d suggest you move.”
It wouldn’t be so much of a fight to the death if you hadn’t been such a cunt, Crest thought to himself.
“And since you are so concerned, King Sangor, your army will attack the Harrakans first.”
Oleander smiled. It wasn’t very nice.
“Surely as their neighbor for so long, you would be the most familiar with their tactics. The center field is yours. King Marzak, I assume you have no objection facing your stepmother?”
“None.”
“Our northern allies will attack the subhuman kark. It will be your chance to finish what your parents attempted. The Viziman mercenaries and free companies will form on our right flank to take that position over there, in that forest. Expect resistance, of course.”
Oleander turned to Crest.
“I will leave you to form and coordinate the mage groups. They must be ready to bombard whatever trick shows up to provide our ‘friends’ here some cover, then I want you to lead the flights to answer the enemy’s own response team.”
Crest almost exploded again. All the mages had been staying with their affiliated armies so far. If Oleander wanted them to act as a unit now, he should have formed a command structure before the final battle, for example, in the month they’d spent on the road. Sometimes it was obvious he used to command only dozens of elite warriors and mages. His mind had never made the jump to bigger things, dammit.
“I’ll do it,” Crest said anyway.
It would be a mess, but with Oleander’s own authority he felt growing around him, the mages would fall in line. It was just so amateurish, in the gods’ name…
He scrambled. The different armies and groups moved, sometimes passing each other in great confusion. If the Harrakans had attacked now, they might have caused a short rout, so chaotic the shuffling of armed groups was being. Crest worked hard to organize their mages in the meantime. When he was done half an hour later, seven groups formed a line facing the Paramese alliance, and the first defensive shields were already rising. He rose up to join one of the many groups of air mages floating over the battlefield — which was a waste of their mana.
“Now what?” a tribesman asked with annoyance.
“Now we watch until we find a target.”
Despite the messy beginning, powerful groups now moved towards the Paramese lines in good order. The Enorians and Baranese were clearly the superior armies while the northerners were formed of a large variety of smaller, bickering units. As for the non-sparrow Viziman troops and mercenaries approaching the forest, they were barely in what could be called a formation. Since the beginning, the Paramese hadn’t moved a finger. The only distraction came from the empress, who’d landed on the shoulder of Efestar’s statue alongside her dragon. As far as Crest could tell, she was having tea.
He found it a little aggravating. She was going to lose, and cause a massacre. A failed leader ought to be more concerned. Or perhaps she was just masquerading her confidence.
Crest’s eyes were drawn to the Enorians. They would be the first to contact. The sands of time dripped down while the mighty formation approached the Harrakan lines. There was no reaction from the witch’s minions. For a moment, Oleander thought they might not even fight, but the Enrorians accelerated. On the Harrakan side, two riders emerged from their ranks, like envoys. Surely it was too late for that?
Crest frowned.
“Wait, am I seeing this right? Why are they attacking with their baggage train?”
***
Sangor rode ahead of the formation with more fear in his life than he had ever experienced. He was taking a terrible gamble by not having his army properly deployed and by being at his front. He wouldn’t put it past the witch to lie in order to lure his people into a slaughter, but he was damned if he was going to lift his sword in defense of that old asshole. His worries faded like a bad dream when two riders emerged from the Harrakan battle lines.
“Father!” the first said.
“Lover,” the second one joked, though she was pale and thin.
Sangor almost rushed ahead to embrace them. He had wanted nothing more.
But he was still king.
“Alright people now. NOW! Through, you lot!”
The witch’s heavies lifted their shields and moved out of the way at a quick trot, their ranks flowing like water. His knights were the first to rush through.
“Bombardment incoming,” a black-clad Harrakan mage said from his shield array. “Deploy shields!”
“Deploy shields!”
The cry spread through the lines. Sangor stayed where he was, urging hundreds of soldiers to rush through at the same time, his own formation pouring through the opening like water through a pipe. He looked behind. The telltale comets of arcane bombardment arced through the air, coming from the Maranorian army. Seconds passed with agonizing slowness. Most of his best infrantry was through but levies and his forester long bowmen were still lagging behind with the supply wagons. They… they were not going to make it.
“Hurry you fuckers!” he yelled. “And you,” he said, addressing an officer.
“Arrays forward,” the same mage said.
There was a woman with a strange helmet next to him. She was speaking in a fast staccato.
“All arrays forward, now! Now!”
The machines holding the shields roared on their ways, soldiers freeing the place. At the same time, the Harrakans were still moving out of the way to let soldiers through faster.
The first projectiles fell. Explosions rang in deafening blasts, covering the stragglers with dirt, but then the last one was through and Sangor could breathe again. Projectiles smashed into the blue cover of the shields. The air smelled strange while the mages screamed instructions at each other. Some were casting black spears that exploded incoming spells into fiery fragments.
Sangor walked back with the arrays. He wondered if they would hold. Immediately after, however, the bombardment stopped and he could hear detonations in the distance. Looking back, the enemy shield arrays were under attack.
***
Crest didn’t have time to fly. He used a portal instead, appearing inside of the first shield. Outside, yellow-brown smoke rose from tiny craters, the nearby troops having retreated to a safe distance. The air smelled inexplicably of radish.
“Have the shield block the air. Do it now.”
The Helockian archmage leading the circle gave him a haughty look.
“Those are duds, young man. No gray mana is being used.”
“For fuck’s sake the yries use non-magical projectiles. Do as I say!”
The archmage rolled his eyes but he did as asked. Crest teleported from circle to circle to repeat his orders starting with the two most affected ones. After a few minutes, nothing seemed to have happened.
“Maybe I was wrong?”
Had the witch used a distraction? In any case, the bombardment had allowed the entire Enorian army to slip by. He flew back up to join his troops.
On the center, nothing was happening. The Harrakans had simply returned to their original positions. On the left, the northern cities troops were being cut apart by numerically superior kark and quite a few javelin throwers. The kark were led by shamans and a female warrior in full plate gear so thick she was half furniture. She led a large detachment of heavily armored brethren against the more elite northern formation. As Crest watched, they failed to stop a pakar charge. Even Crest knew the best way to stop the beasts was to shoot arrows at their sensitive noses, except they had nose barding.
“Seriously…”
The kark waved red flags. Their shielded spearmen overtook the northerners, crushing them with their tight formation. The human line disintegrated. Rather than pursuing them, the kark returned to their former position with a level of discipline Crest never suspected they could demonstrate. What were the Dark Blades doing anyway? He couldn’t see them anywhere.
On the right, the Baranese were trying to force the other side’s knights to commit first. Explosions tore entire squads of loyalist infantrymen apart. The rebels didn’t seem concerned about Maranorian reinforcements even now entering the forest on their flank.
And on the statue’s shoulder, the empress was eating biscuits.
***
The captain had to push those wastes of skin forward like he was driving a herd of old cornudons.
“Forward you worms, I said forward!”
That forest wasn’t natural. The trunks were too straight, and the underbrush was almost always the same northern plant, something for warmer weather with big stupid leaves. It should never have grown here. Work of Sardanal that was, and he was on the other side. Bad times when the light gods squabbled, but he knew that already. In front of him, one of the recruits stumbled and fell, spear clattering against roots.
“Maranor’s tits who gave me those idiots. You! Hey!”
The man wasn’t moving. Angry, the captain grabbed him while the others stood around like headless birds. The young man’s eyes were rolled up. He had foam coming from his mouth. There was something planted in his throat. A dart?
“What the —”
A throwing axe embedded itself in the nearest soldier’s head with a dull thunk. The captain was up with his shield in front of him in the same breath.
“Form up! On me! We’re under attack!”
Arrows whistled around.
“Up!” someone screamed.
“In the branches!”
The idiots under his command might be stupid but they wanted to live. A turtle formed, shields up while archers gathered under cover. From the cries around him, the entire line was under attack at the same time. Strange creatures were dropping from the boughs on top of stragglers, stabbing them as they tried to reach the line. The captain heard fighting to the side,
“Alright, move left! Slowly! Keep those shields up!”
The soldier next to him fell like a sack with an arrow through the eye. One of his archers got a good shot on a foe who crashed on the ground in front of him: it was humanoid, with thumbs on its feet — very strange — grayish skin, tall as a teen but very thin, and a beak. Not much muscles on those.
“Merls,” someone said. “Tree dwellers.”
“That so? Keep moving! Break through!”
His troops were rallying. Merls were pushed back with spears, those that got too close wounded or killed.
“They’re frail. Don’t fear them!”
The formation was moving, even if they were leaving wounded behind. The sounds of fighting from another group grew more intense. They were going to merge and then leave. Suddenly, something crashed into the shield wall from the side and men were sent tumbling like empty wine bottles. The captain spotted strange legs, too many for comfort. A merl sat upon the scurrying shape as it smashed into people, disrupting the formation. Eyes. Mandibles. Then it was gone. And another one attacked.
“Close ranks! Don’t break off, dammit!”
But now the enemies were using the gaps in their lines to pick their archers off. One of the younger fuckers panicked. He dropped his weapon and ran.
“You’re gonna get killed, idiot!”
But the merl let him go. At least, from sight. Another woman ran off with just her shield. And then the captain was on his back.
Spider. Huge fucking spider. He pushed with all his might. Drips on his face. Something was poking him but his chest plate held on. Screams. He reached for his dagger and used his stat boost to empower one attack. The blade buried itself into the creature’s neck. Spasms. An opening. The captain gathered his legs and pushed. The spider collapsed to the side.
Its rider was a merl, face encased in a bone helmet. It was wearing fur to ward off the cold. Eyes filled with hatred peered at him. The rider’s posture was low, stable, it held a thin, long spear like he knew how to use it. The captain checked the tip. Black steel. Harrakan make.
The warriors stepped back and the captain realized he was alone. The last of his men were running away, now jumped on without mercy since they were prey. He sprinted for his sword. He grabbed it. By some miracle, his shield was still attached to his forearm. He’d have to join the other group. They weren’t too far. Hopefully.
It was the silence more than any noise that warned him to turn away. The first thing he noticed was a shaman, currently not casting. The second thing he noticed was why the shaman wouldn’t bother: it was a spider as large as a hut. all eight legs thick and furry.
The beast jumped and crushed him against a tree.
***
“Milord, only the Baranese are still engaged. King Marzak reports that unless those cannons are destroyed, he will be forced to withdraw.”
Oleander fumed. He’d expected the first wave to be repulsed, but… this was too much. Especially with the witch waving at him every time one of his regiments ran for it.
“Are the Sheem ready?”
“Ready and eager, sir!”
“Have them attack across the front, and reinforce Baran as a priority. I want cavalry to support them. Tell Crest that it’s time. His gray mages must destroy those cannons you spoke of.”
He had cannons in his previous world but they were pneumatic, quiet and elegant designed destined to harpoon ships, not those black, smelly, noisy things.
He had planned to force the witch to move first, to watch her fly around the battlefield to help her beleaguered troops until he swooped in for the kill, a pitiful end to a crumbling cause. He might have to move first. He felt in his soul that it wasn’t a good thing. His troops ought to be winning. Why were they not winning? His attention returned to the Sheem, the red, beak-helmeted Vizimias devouring the space between them and their enemies. This time it would be different. Then, the explosions redoubled, killing a dozen soldiers with every impact.
“I have many troops, witch, and I don’t think you have a lot of shells.”
***
Crest flew at the head of the formation. Griffin raiders from Helock guarded them from above, their spell spears shining with leashed power. Their tight formation flew towards the leftmost battery, the one overlooking the kark. Kark didn’t have great bowmen so it made sense to start there. He looked left and right. That was a lot of mages.
As he watched, two of them almost bounced into each other. Quality varied but that was fine. With almost three hundred of them, he was confident they could pull it off.
“Sir. Movement upward.”
A tendril of cloud was extending from the cloud cover. So there were forces hidden there, as expected. It had been hard to confirm anything when none of the scouts had returned. Mages in dark and silver uniforms peeled off in a tight wing led by an old man sporting a rather spectacular silvery beard. Crest vaguely recognized the wing formation from ancient manuals he’d read back in Helock.
“Harrakan doctrine. Did they find a library?” he grumbled.
But there were only around seventy of them. He could only assume other wings were in combat over the cataclysmic Baranese battlefield. It would be easy to defeat them, even with inferior combatants.
There was just something weird. According to what he remembered, this formation called for a superior force on overwatch. Ah, yes, the white dragon’s brother.
“Watch out for a dragon!” Crest warned.
Judgment death might not have scared him off.
A roar shook the air. The gray mana under Crest’s control shivered, almost rebelling, and a few of his mages lost some altitude before recovering. That roar had been everywhere around him. A wave that triggered something primal in a quiet part of his brain. It had been a warning.
There was a second roar, deeper, more threatening.
“Maranor have mercy,” his second-in-command whispered.
A dragon emerged from the dispersing cloud cover, white, lean, angry, gray mana swirling around him. A massive green dragon was next, and then a third, black one, its roar one of outrage and fury. Then another: a red one. The dragons took position over the accelerating mage flights.
“Sir? Sir.”
Gray mana was pulled from the air. Crest struggled to regain control.
“Engage, distract, then disperse and fall back. Griffins with me!”
Crest surged through the air though it felt like pushing through syrup. Terror gripped his heart.
When he was a child, he and his friends had played on a knight training ground with wooden sticks. They had a lot of fun skirting the rules while yelling blood oaths and challenges, then, at some point, the knights had returned. Crest had only realized this when a man in armor holding naked steel stood over them. It was the same feeling, like children playing in a field that had never been for them, wielding toys and spewing made up war cries. The voice of the bearded man reached his ears but his brain struggled to process them.
“For Frostbay, for the empire, and for Judgment!”
Vengeance.
There was no impact. The dragons and their lackeys just tore through the gray flights and they lost cohesion. Crest urged the griffin riders onward. The whisper of heat at the back of his ears was all the warning he got. A quick gate saved his life but not that of the lead rider. He turned to see twin red eyes firmly locked on him.
You are as slippery as her.
The white dragon used a surge of gray mana to accelerate after him. A part of him was happy that he could get the creature’s attention to protect the riders but the rest was screaming ‘oh shit a dragon’ and it was quite loud. A hail of stones peppered his hastily built shield. He fought back with colorless blades of mana, easily dispersed by a quick counter. The dragon was a caster too. Fire mana coalesced around him in a ring. He teleported. A stone pierced through his shield and broke his shin. The pain was unbearable.
But not nearly as smart.
Crest used every drop of willpower to form a portal to escape. The griffin riders were diving, and the white dragon dove after them. Pain tolerance allowed Crest to push through the blinding agony. He hated broken bones almost as much as he hated shattered shields. But they’d done it. The battery was just ahead. He could see the cannons half buried in protected emplacement belching little puffs of smoke, subhuman servants scurrying all around.
Disbelief pushed his focus to its very limits. They had shells, pointy things Oleander had mentioned when talking about his home world. The shells were loaded on crate things and brought to the emplacement on mining rails. There were a lot of them. His eyes traveled closer to the city. Old men and women were pushing carts filled with metal over maybe half a league. Merciful Maranor, that was a lot of the things. No, no, it was fine. It would be fine so long as they destroyed the cannons. They were almost there.
Colorless mana flared. A man he’d taken for a cannon servant removed a cloak from his shoulders, revealing an elaborate black and silver robe. Crest’s eyes widened when he spotted the cornrows and dark skin. A Hallurian? Then he remembered the reports: this was Rakan of the Five Colors. A circle flared around him. Other servants showed suspicious hints of engraved silverite under their uniforms.
“It’s a trap. Pull out!” Crest screamed.
Rays of fire, colorless blades, black claws erupted from the sphere in a deluge of attacks. Some of the griffin riders got their attacks out before veering off. A few unfortunates were caught too soon. Rakan intercepted all the attacks with counters in a display of dazzling mastery. Crest couldn’t let it happen. He had to act. A quick portal brought him on the ground, forcing porters to run away. Two quarrels panged against his shield. He winced in pain, but firebolts rushed after the nearest pile of shells.
A blue shield intercepted them. Other shields formed, blocking everything he could throw. More counters reached him from the allied mages. Crest’s attention turned to Rakan. The master of five colors wasn’t looking at him. His face was a mask of concentration, sweat dripping from his skin. He wasn’t just blocking all of Crest’s attacks. He was casting something. Crest recognized the runes. He’d seen the witch use them before.
Spatial interdiction.
“Shit.”
Danger sense screamed at Crest. He had opened a portal to base and jumped through it the moment it hit his mind though the pain from his broken shin redoubled. The portal almost closed on him when the interdiction spell hit and it weirdly saved his life. A battleaxe bounced against the closing aperture in eerie silence.
Through the closing gap, Crest saw a smiling mask, then it flipped into an image of pouty frustration.
***
“I’m sorry, Zero-Five,” Rakan said.
The tall hadal shrugged.
“Target-rich environment.”
“That it is,” Rakan admitted, then he returned to his casting.
He wished he could be on the back of a dragon too. It looked more interesting than defending cannons.
***
It was looking to be the worst and also last day in Saf’s life. He’d kept a bottle of liquor for bad times. That liquor had been finished within three days of setting on Param. He was thirsty, hungry, tired, and dirty. His helmet’s hawk beak was broken so it hung limp on his cheek and that was just adding insult to injury really. Not that it would fucking matter. His regiment of press-ganged assholes was being walked to his death. He knew he was dead because no explosions ravaged their ranks while they walked towards the imperials. Even the nasty-looking crossbow bitches on the packed earth fortification were watching him approach with an expression of pure boredom. One of them was smoking from a pipe. Saf wished he could have a drag.
“We’re not even worth the fucking quarrels,” he said.
Only a hundred paces separated the two formations. Maybe steel through the head didn’t hurt. Unless they were trained to hit the throat because that was probably very painful. But Saf’s helmet was like a whore with her legs open so surely the fuckers wouldn’t miss. They didn’t look like the type to miss. Eighty paces.
“Shut up Saf!” the officer yelled.
“Or what?” Saf replied, “You gonna stab me?”
It was usually a shit thing to ask in case the answer was yes but he was going to get speared like a fish within the next thirty breaths anyway. This was the elite of the imperials. It was like facing a wall of angry statues. It didn’t take a mage to see the shining mana in their shields.
“Look at these fuckers, it’s like they were fed a cordudon a day since they were babies.”
Sixty paces.
Saf’s brain went into overdrive Maybe it was panic. Maybe he just didn’t give three shits anymore.
“Saf you asshole I swear to Maranor I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
He turned on himself, back to the imperials, arms extended. Fifty paces.
“What are you going to do? Kill me first? Go ahead then. I bet you hit like a wet fish. Look at those guys behind me.”
As if summoned, he heard a slam. A quick glance confirmed that this was now a shield wall with spears, so same as before but spikier. To the side, heavies with purple tree tabards were laying into another regiment with screams of rage. Maybe that was because they’d burnt the fucking tree.
“They look like they floss their teeth with greatswords. They look like they swallow ingots and shit nails. Their fathers beat them with sticks and the sticks got blisters. They look like they can only be opened with lockpicks. You could stick one to a cordudon to plow all of Vizim. I’m a dock rat you asswipe, not the dragon slayer. You come, then. Come to the front. Show me how you kill. Come here!”
The officer paused.
“There’s another regiment behind us, Saf,” he said in a very low voice. “There’s another one after that, and after that it’s the tribesmen. You know what they’ll do to us if we run.”
“Yeah? Fuck it. Maybe I’ll run forward.”
“I was fine fighting southerners but I’m not fine being tossed in the pit like a food scrap,” another man said.
“Screw this! I left my field to die for nothing?”
Saf trotted forward. Behind him, the regiment dissolved, the officers trying in vain to maintain formation. He felt the brush of a skill on him but he shrugged it off. Something about duty. He didn’t owe them duty. They couldn’t even give him bread and a gods-damned helmet. Saf walked through the wall, the first to do so. Twenty paces. Ten paces. Five paces, maybe out of reach.
“Don’t suppose you fuckers accept surrender, huh?”
No response. He grabbed his spear tightly but he kept it low.
“I bet you sons of whores don’t even speak my tongue. Just make it quick please.”
He stepped forward.
“Please?”
For an inexplicable reason, he was not struck down. There was movement at the back of the enemy formation.
“Excuse me, excuse me!”
A shorter man in light armor and the symbol of Neriad slipped between two imperials who let him pass through with unreadable expressions, probably because they all wore war masks. He had a fantastically hooked noise and the friendliest smile Saf had ever seen. His Viziman was only lightly accented.
“Hello. By imperial decree, we are all dedicated to Neriad, God of Righteous war. That means we are duty-bound to accept all genuine surrenders. Please drop your weapon and pass through.”
Saf had to blink several times. His heart beat like a drum and he felt light-headed.
“Really?”
“Yes,” the priest insisted. “Really. If you could hurry so your friends can go as well?”
Saf realized he was at the head of a panicked mob. People were fighting behind, and it wasn’t against the imperials.
“Alright.”
He moved, expecting a cold touch and lancing pain between his ribs but it never came. Past the soldiers were more soldiers, a lot of them, and then fortifications and bored crossbow ladies. One of them was a southerner with a small smile and freckles on her weird greenish skin. He blinked.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he declared.
The woman raised a brow before turning to one of her allies, a dusky-skinned viziman with a frown and enough knives on her chest to start a butcher shop. They whispered, then the Viziman, to his endless surprise, replied.
“She said she’s not into men.”
Well. Couldn’t have it all.
***
In front of the One Hundred, a second regiment stopped, then very slowly walked in the opposite direction. It would probably be replaced soon, but still. Left and right, the chaos of battle enfolded in a symphony of death and vengeance. The Harrakans were proving to the world that they were never to be underestimated.
But here? Nothing.
Ban the Younger signaled for his troops to return to parade rest. After ten minutes or so, it happened. A voice rose from the back ranks.
“It’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”
***
Viv watched the second wave of attack fall apart. Arthur was carving grooves in Efestar’s statue which was a bit of a problem but Viv understood. Her daughter was nervous with many of her minions and her own brother on a very active battlefield. Everywhere she was looking for now though, things were going amazingly well. That was mostly because Oleander was probing her defenses with lesser troops but still. He was getting his teeth kicked in on a conceptual level and that was good for her. As she watched, Enorian knights sallied out to relieve some pressure on the yries holding the priest village. The alliance armies were a strange but beautiful beast, moving organically to fend off the attackers. Sometimes it retreated, sometimes it turtled, and sometimes it lashed out with painful, precise attacks that bit off chunks of the Maranorians, grinding them down squad by squad. From the ground, it had to look like chaos but from up here she could see the touch of her strategists — no wait Jaratalassi hadn’t been recruited yet — of the alliance’s strategists leading the dance like orchestra directors. The fucking Vienna Philharmonic didn’t move with such elegant harmony.
Viv ran out of tea.
“Really?”
You should have brought more.
“I didn’t expect Mr. Megalo Pants to take so long. Hey, you!” she yelled. “How long do you intend to keep a girl waiting? Or do you enjoy watching your followers get trounced?”
The jaws of fate were closing. The battle couldn’t be more in her favor. The sun was going to set soon.
Come on you dumb fuck. Take the bait. Come on come on come on you deplorable piece of shit.
A connection was made, powered by a mana as old as stories themselves. Viv felt it in her soul and she let it anchor her. He was going to answer her. It was like playing poker with a man who didn’t know he had a hand. Oleander’s voice carried over the battlefield, born by destiny and the blades of thousands. It thundered with righteous fury.
“You jest? Soldiers are dying for your hubris, and you jest?”
Viv’s own voice returned, filled with contempt and malicious glee. Fate bound them. Their conversation spread across the battlefield.
“Maybe they wouldn’t if you were a better commander but, to be fair…”
Directed by her, the deafening roars of cannons and explosions overtook the din of battle. It was a new sound on Nyil, but to Viv, it carried the memories of centuries of effort and innovation into killing more people, faster, and farther. It was the dawn of a new era. It was the merciless hand of progress, and she had brought it to this planet herself.
“You brought a medieval army to my world war.”
Oleander jumped up, red wings extended behind him bathed in the blooded light of an early evening. Arthur grabbed Viv and placed her on her back. They fell from the statue like a dive bomber.
[Aspect of the Paragon].
The two souls crashed over the field. Both armies redoubled their efforts, spurred by the presence of their champions. Mana itself hummed with their flight. The Ascended had entered the fray.
Comments
Sebastian Lachs
Ooooh! Vienna mentioned!
Sebastian Lachs
110 000 is kinda cute for a +2 continent large army. Ancient China alone fielded larger armies. Heck, 19th century battles in Europe numbered hundreds of thousands on each side.
Diego Rossi
One is figthing for glory, domination, conquest and loot, the other is figthing for defending their homeland, for their lives and those of the people they love and for freedom. Both strong motivators, but the former set is more brittle. It is great as long as you are winning, but easily shatter when thins go wrong.
David Welch
Oleander obviously never had to sit through hours upon hours of general military training PowerPoint presentations and it shows
Moatdog
Yeah, guess brother mastered colorless too? If that counts
SDCard
Rakan of the five colors? Wasn't it Rakan of the four colors?
JLM
He flew for hours in a state of constant frustration, losing his path twice and having to fly down to villages just to demand direction. Orienting himself from the air was still an unfamiliar experience and the snow didn’t help. He eventually found the main Baranese army camp where he expected, slightly west of their capital. By then, the sun was setting over the winter landscape.
Roombot
There’s a few possibilities regarding Slayer. 1) since it’s an artifact that gained its power because of the legendary person who wielded it on all their adventures before ascending, it could be stopped by a similarly powerful artifact: vivs shield 2) perhaps Viv pulled an Elunath and separated her core from her physical body, meaning that when he draws it she’s nowhere around and all he does is destroy her projection
Roombot
One of my favorite quotes from this series comes from Rakan’s thought process as he attempts to cast a portal for the first time. “Gravity can bend around massive objects like the planet, the moon and Viv’s ego.”
Roombot
Not just that, but the narrative of fate—which is just as important—is turning against him
Roombot
“I have many troops, witch, and I don’t think you have a lot of shells.” Is probably the best joke I’ve ever heard
Roombot
When did we learn he’s bad at flying?
Tsorov
Isn't the next novel going to be the demon one which he already wrote the first few chapters for? I think he meant to use it after he finishes Bob, after it lost against dear old Nestra
Senko
As I've said before if their corpse isn't in front of you its not overkill as they're not dead and even then it's iffy. The number of movies where you see a mass of fire-power and someone says that's overkill whike the target survives. It's not overkill it's under kill shoot more blast it.
Senko
So they were seasoning his troops in preparation for eating them then.
Senko
Because he has no real experience with this kind of large scale artillery usage.
Angela Roberts
@TheLunaticCo, truth!!
TheLunaticCo
Well viv was in the army and as a rule the army always asks for and needs more shells, but the state usually doesn't believe them until a war starts (cough NATO).
TheLunaticCo
@angela Roberts, You have almost exactly described the war in Ukraine as well, Russia had the means and ability to fully understand Ukrainian moral and combat potential but ignored it in order to please Putin who is caught up in a myth of Russian exceptionalism and the delusion of Russification (The idea that any country that borders Russia OBVIOUSLY wants to be Russia!)
KnightRider007
“Crest flew at the head of the formation. Griffin raiders from Helock guarded them from above” => ‘raiders’ is plausible, but did you mean ‘riders’? “Judgment death might not have scared him off.” => Judgment’s
KnightRider007
Yeah, steampunk/magitech is very much the impression I get.
KnightRider007
Several of the maxims seem particularly applicable here. #4. Close air support covers a multitude of sins. #16. Your name is in the mouth of others: be sure it has teeth. #35. That which does not kill you has made a tactical error. #59. "Two wrongs is probably not going to be enough."
KnightRider007
Missing a couple commas, but I think also a French translation issue: “destined” => “intended” (derived from “destination” as opposed to “destiny”)
KnightRider007
“He had cannons in his previous world but they were pneumatic, quiet and elegant designed destined to harpoon ships, “ - “He had seen/used cannons” - “quiet, and elegantly designed,” (note the comma after ‘designed’, as well as the two other changes) - “intended to harpoon ships” (I think this one is a French translation issue)
meow
Of course after I finally read this and catch up, it’s on a massive cliff near the end. Fantastic read though!
Anonymonous
Now I feel like reading schlock mercenary again. Still have to appreciate that madman author for never missing day for years
Karel Londin
"Ser Warcrime sad thing is, there is always not enough shells."
Karel Londin
No, human beast of burden (mainly used for caravans with multi tons wagons), very expensive. My vision is of big bizon or zubr.
Clifton
Cool as that might be - he's not going to survive any of those fights to get to the next.
Kennyevilmonkey
Get that bitch a cannon. Bitches love cannons.
Diego Rossi
Viv had better political preparation thanks to her background. And a way better initial mindset. Oleander seems an example of a top strata guy from a steampunk society based on XIX century England. The guy who is the second or third son of a rich family and who was "destined" to a military career as he could not inherit the family firm. The kind of guy that thinks that the "burden of the white man" is a reality. Thrust into a reality where there are other intelligent species he moved into taking the "burden of guide of humanity", considering all other species savages that should serve humanity or be exterminated. From a point of view, he is pitiable. Instead of growing out of his limits he raised ever higher barriers against other views of the world and doubled down on his racist/specist view of the world. Sadly, the consequence of his choices is an attempt to exterminate all other sentient paths and lock humanity in a stagnant society.
Sloth
As Adurna says, perhaps just trolling with their kids then? Not teaching? They’d certainly be trolling on their own, and I’m a little disappointed we didn’t even get that much! Maybe next chapter
Adurna
That is true, Diego, but the macabre image is till fun :)
Angus Losier
The thing is, Viv wasn't much different, originally. Small-unit engagements were the most she did. The difference is, Viv had a better theoretical grounding in warfare, and (partially as a result) is mentally flexible enough to recognize her limits, and delegate those responsibilities to strategists. Unlike Oleander, she doesn't have to have this top-down iron grip on everything. Viv's been delegating since day one, while Oleander can only barely manage to do it for small-scale stuff like battlefield mage squads.
SnowReason
In the Luten's case he did mean to surrender, however before surrendering he committed war crimes so he got smited.
Diego Rossi
There is a high probability that Oleander world had a outdated concept of mass production. Steam and machines increase production, but the Ford assembly line made a great difference.
AzureMaiden
Data points: 1) his world incorporated magic into its military doctrine 2) they used airships - the first controlled free flight of an airship was in the late 1880s 3) they used pneumatic rather than combustive armaments, and then (apparently) because they hadn’t developed a magical way to fire harpoons 4) Apparently they *really* liked their weapons to be elegant 😂 So my read on this is that Oleander came from a steampunk/magitech world (where magical development supplanted tech development and averted the military Industrial Revolution). If his universe *is* a steampunk/magitech world, I vote for that to be the setting for Mechanimus’ next novel!!! 😁😁😁
AzureMaiden
Viv’s new doctrine: “There is no overkill. There is only ‘open fire’ and ‘reload’.” Followed closely by “Don’t try to save money by conserving ammunition,” and “artillery exists to throw large chunks of budget at an enemy it can’t actually see.” The Yries, on the other hand, would love to claim the doctrine claimed by Ariane—“If it leaves scorch marks, you need a bigger gun.”
Diego Rossi
I think that Maranor sword is (almost)) guaranteed to kill SOMEONE when it is draw. A lot of fictional swords with that ability kill the user if he fail to kill his target. it is an often used trope.
Diego Rossi
Hadal's don't want to be "the race of assassins". I don't think they will teach their children that way. Zero-Five will do that, but I dubt he is interested in having children.
Diego Rossi
As Viv said, it is medieval armies against modern (well, later XIX - early XX century) warfare. You don't need that many shells when your enemy fight in close formation. And Viv has lots of shells.
Diego Rossi
Read about Market-Garden (the Arnheim campaign in 1944). Montgomery being more interested in overshadowing Patton and gettin his grand campaign to end the war than in actually taking into account what the enemy could do. Everithing was calculated as it the best result for every maneuver was granted, never taking into account the risk of failure for one step or another.
Diego Rossi
It is the same problem the King and the Adviser of the Remanants had. Followers of Marador tend to get stuck into a rut, unable to adapt. The Goddess is aware of the limit but seems unable to change.
Diego Rossi
Pneumatic guns. During the Napoleonic wars, some Austrian snipers had pneumatic rifles. They were approximately as good as the smoothbore flintlocks of the time and way harder to detect when firing. Harder to build and maintain, too. A few years later they were used only to hunt small animals.
Diego Rossi
I misremembered. Oleander said that, Crest had the good sense to check. Crest seems a better strategist than Oleander, but Oleander isn't the kind of guy that listen and makes a plan with his staff. he is the kind of guy that order "You do X." and then is surprised when the untrained men he sent to fight a disciplined unit don't get the result he want. He is not even a small unit commander, he is a Bandit King.
Diego Rossi
“You brought a medieval army to my world war.” Beautiful. Oleander is an adventurer used to command a squad of elites, not an Army commander. By the few bits of his former life we got, he probably was the commander of a squad of mariners for the Dirigibles Air Forces of his world. A lieutenant or maybe a captain that never learned logistics and only a smattering of strategy. As the saying goes: "Tactics win skirmishes, strategy win battles, logistics win wars."
JLM
Isnt Nero like, horrible at flying? He is starting a fight against 2 opponents whom the system literally registers as "Harrakan Air Supremacy". He's going to run back to sugar momma to cry again soon.
David Johnson
I mean, on the one hand, it's true that no army ever has as many shells as it WANTS to have. But if any army could ever have "enough shells" it would be the one fighting a mile outside it's capital after spending the last decade stockpiling shells for this battle specifically.
Clifton
It could also be he came from a world with early cannons. He is probably badly underestimating what can be done with them and the benefit of logistics. I'm inferring his world was at a stage before a world war demonstrated it.
MountainFox
That's the fundamental difference between the armies. One is fighting for glory, duty and honor, the other is fighting to live.
Clifton
It was the large labour animal used by merchants to pull carts. They are very large and expensive. They were introduced when Viv first reached the town and helped repel a beastling attack.
KnightRider007
Point to note that Viv *also* isn’t that great at large scale combat. The different is that Viv was willing to find someone who *was*, and give them her army to command.
KnightRider007
Kark mounts are “pakar”. Given the reference further down about “strapping one to a cordudon and ploughing all of Vizim”, my opinion is that it’s probably a large beast of burden - eg a horse or an ox.
Raptor425
Cordudon are the large beasts of burden that the people of this world use. From what I remember they are very large, expensive, and good at their jobs as they were the ones who would pull the wooden towers on wheels that used to protect people from the beastlings in the Deadshield Woods before the Harrakan youngsters started cleaning out the forest.
Samuel
A previouse chapter stated that they would have a reserve of 70000 shells. Probably got more now. 1 shell for every enemy.
Nicholas Del Rossi
if the hope crusher try's to start the engagement with the 100 that might just be perfect, then he runs into Solar or Solfis and after failing to take the 100's hope he learns what it's really like to lose that hope you need to move forward before any chance of moving forward is taken from him.
phenebeans
So, I was close
Sæþór
Tftc!
Angela Roberts
@Senko & Anonymous, truth. It's just that he's had time, means, and opportunity to have a clear picture of Harrakan capabilities and instead he's bought into his own myth and a desire to please his goddess. Intel, it helps! But yeah, WWI is an ever salutary lesson.
Mani
It's the kark mounts right?
phenebeans
“Look at these fuckers, it’s like they were fed a cordudon a day since they were babies.” I'm ignorant and also apparently I don't know how to use a search engine, what is a cordudon? Maybe a giant bundle of meat or something? In any case Saf is my man
tr13ze
Thanks for the chapter 😁
Quivo
I think it was Oleander thinking about how Viv would eventually run out of shells that truly broke me. Why would you jump into a battle with an enemy when you can only guess how much ammo they have, it's one thing if they ambush and you have no choice, but he CHOSE this, all after their opening move was to starve his army...
Kazith
Yup, I remember reading that they’ve spent decades stocking up for the confrontation that they knew was coming.
Maximillian999
Honestly, I think the fans would expect Viv dying before they’d accept Arthur.
Angus Losier
Yellow-brown gas that smells like radishes? Mustard gas of some kind, for sure.
Craeth
I suspect that the Harrakan Empire's shell production outpaces what they're firing right now. The level of their supplies isn't even dropping. They could fire these cannons until the barrels wear out, replace them, and keep going.
ThreeWater
Did a search and radish is in the same family of plants as mustard.
Senko
I think there's meant to be a comma or only one word rather than designed destined here ... He had cannons in his previous world but they were pneumatic, quiet and elegant designed destined to harpoon ships, not those black, smelly, noisy things.
Ryan Brudnicki
I have been waiting for hopecrusher to meet brick the perfect infantrywoman
Senko
Or maybe colourless?
Senko
Not just Viv either bear in mind most of this force and all the human troops have been part of a unified continental alliance before. They're used to fighting alongside others they don't entirely like because it would take all of them backstabbing at once to not lose. If any one alliance member tries a power grab the others will come down on them for breaking the alliance. It's why the pure league are on the other side really. They tried a power play and got exiled, if one alliance one attacks someone else after the battle all the rest of the members will dogpile them.
Senko
Plus they have to disarm so they're options are limited and there's probably troops there to collect them.
Senko
Probably with his pet immortal assasin who broke the truce at the accademy. "Now this is how you pin down a soul so it can't sneak off, see how I stab into the spiritual now you try it...almost let's catch him and you can try again."
Senko
I'd say at least two. They have to fight, he has to use the sword to "kill" Viv then her counter attack to destroy it and the final conflict. Then you've all the rest of the armies fight.
Senko
They can share. A few blows from one, a few from then the other then they hit him together to finish him off.
Senko
Look at World war 1. Part of the reason it had such a high casualty rate was because they went into it with no real understanding how different the technology and size of the conflict would make things.
Senko
Combined with he's transformed into the order of Maranor given flesh. The old Nero probably would have pulled back, adjusted and figured out how to handle this. The current one literally can't as he is trapped by his own path. He represents Maranors ideal unchanging order and as such he is unable to change when the world doesn't match. It's why there can be no other power as another power would by necessity cause change as they don't share your view on everything.
Senko
I suspect it's a mix of him not being used to conflicts against an equally large unified force whereas the Param troops have fought multiple such conflicts and his own path trapping him. We've seen it from Crests perspective that he's lost a lot of who he used to be when transforming into Maranors champion. He must enforce the order she knows so when the other side fights by different rules he literally can't change in response. He is the old order personified while Viv is change. If he wins the world can never grow because he can't allow it to.
Senko
Should have gone with original quote there as it applies quite well.
Senko
As I thought when he doesn't hold to his own oaths, his followers lose the power to hold them.
Anonymonous
Well, real world events show that it's definitely believable
Anonymonous
Crest is a nerd. It's like me knowing bits about world War 2 aircraft formations. Which I do. Because I'm a nerd
Red Viking
Oh my gods. I just realized that Oleander is a "that guy". The kind that thinks he's the main character in dnd. He is litterally trying to force himself into the role, and pushes everybody, even, and especially, his friends, out of the spotlight.
Drakenclaw
Anyone having an idea of what the maybe poison gas was? It smelled of radish, which means something sulfur based. I do wonder what the murder owls have cooked up.
Drakenclaw
Also higher step mages do have perfect recall. That was mentioned when the smear campaign against stone boy was launched.
Dragon Earth
She has 70k shells they have 110k soldiers. She likes those numbers
Roombot
I’m pretty sure she’s been stockpiling shells for the last decade
Roombot
It specifically says he read about it in old flight manuals in Helock
MrAcerulez
He's just too self righteous and self absorbed. He had full confidence that everything will go his way no matter what, that it was a forgone conclusion.
MrAcerulez
Oh boy this is good
Angela Roberts
Right? Like Viv has emphasized the need for many, many shells!
Leviathon251
I like that shit sticks army don't all just march to their deaths. That would have been a bit much considering how he treats the people around him.
Daemion
Considering that he was exploring Harrack's capital city long before Viv came along... quite plausible. He is a mage after all and so would have read related texts.
Robert
Bitches love shells.
KnightRider007
“There was just something weird. According to what he remembered, this formation called for a superior force on overwatch” Little bit on the fence about this - it’s nice to emphasise how smart Crest is, but is it really plausible for him to be that intimately familiar with flight mage combat doctrine from a foreign Empire that has been dead for 300+ years?
Kennyevilmonkey
Because it wouldn't be a fight. It would be assisted suicide.
sarvashaktimaan
The angle is clearly that he has grown used to easy and overwhelming victories. Because for decades even if there was force that could possibly stand up to his, they had nothing which could stop Oleander from taking an elite squad to go wipe out their command.
Federico
Oleander doesn't have allies outside his inner circle of elites, and even then some don't trust him blindly anymore. He has killed many elites and leaders while he conquered 2 continents; those that now follow him would likely betray him of they could, be it for power or for spite/revenge. So he can't trust them: how easy would be for person X to screw over Y and his troops, so X can have a promotion? And if they fail this conquest they can easly flee and rule over their expanded lands (compared before Olly). If they win? They won't gain anything, because I don't see Oleander give his current leaders other lands, he will likely give them to more loyal followers. Meanwhile for Viv and her allies. They are outnumbered and against dragon-killer Oleander, who will kill them. If they don't put 100% they will lose; can't retreat; if they win they will keep their lands, if not expand in the Oleander's allies lands. Viv and Oleander have put Viv's army in a death ground, where their only possibility to live is winning. It seems that Viv has read Sun Tzu. It's probable that they would try to backstab each other when they have won; but then there is the problem of the assasins, golems, dragons, void witch and being in forein territory. So the best that they can do will be to not help each other with the mop up.
FuriousDee
It must be so frustrating to watch the battle start and for everyone to just refuse to fight the one hundred
FuriousDee
Solfis had better not die
FuriousDee
It could have just been crest making a mistake
FuriousDee
It will probably be longer than that
FuriousDee
I am curious how many troops he has actually lost so far
Kennyevilmonkey
She'll run out of shells eventually! Bitch please, Viv got so many shells. Shells for days.
Danny O'Donnell
“You brought a medieval army to my world war.” yup that one goes hard.
Jeanean
To be honest, the numbers don't even matter. What matters is this: First, Oleanders troops saw an entire army that was forced into submission simply walk through the enemy-lines unhindered and protected. Second, Oleanders troops saw an entire regiments that were NOT forced into submission simply walk through the enemy-lines unhindered and protected, so long as they honestly surrendered. What do you think this will do to the morale of Oleanders mob?
Jeanean
May I quote a certain empress? I think it went something like this: "You can never have enough shells."
Jeanean
“I have many troops, witch, and I don’t think you have a lot of shells.” Oh, you poor, naive fool... May I quote a certain empress? "You can never have too many shells."
BgB
I have a sneaking suspicion that Solfis (her oldest companion) may fall to the Slayer.
Andrew
Thank you!
AzureMaiden
“I have many troops, witch, and I don’t think you have a lot of shells.” Man, her comment about logistics went *completely* over his head. He’s in so deep it’s not even funny anymore—just sad 🤦♀️🤦♀️
James Faulkner
If Arthur dies and doesn’t get to avenge Judgement I will show up at Mecanimus’s house with a tank and so high on mushrooms I’m an honorary Yrie to protest
Tommy Mullane
Good chapter
Oskatat
Somehow I had expected Oleander to be at least competent enough to stretch the battle to a second day.
Angela Roberts
Oh egotistical do ya have to be to *not plan* the war you demanded? Unbelievable.
Daemion
I really hope Arthur survives, this story wouldn't be the same without her. In fact, everyone from Viv's inner circle needs to make it through alive. Please?
Daemion
Colorless is something they all can use and, by definition, isn't a color.
TheBotler
Thank you for the chapter.
Elaine
good chappie
BurnNote
Nah. Oldeander didn't get easy mode, or legendary gear at level 1. He is genuinely an extremely badass fighter. And he does have charisma and smarts. And he used to have more of both, especially the former, but kind of lost himself in being The Champion Of Maranor. Most importantly, he bought his own hype, but he never really had the skills, knowledge or temperament to be a ruler, or commander above squad level.
Bettafish
“I have many troops, witch, and I don’t think you have a lot of shells.” ahahahaahahhaahhaah. Poor poor idiot, it'll be great when he dies.
Bettafish
But it WOULD miss out on the karma of Solphis deciding that "The hopecrusher" is copyright infringement
Caitlin
Goosebumps! Every time. You are such a good writer. Siege spiders and dragons galore! Thank you
Benjamin Hamilton
Man, Oleander had a lot of hype going in to this ark and it is deserved but this chapter proves he had no idea who they were messing with with. I mean we saw Viv do her home work on him and it’s is clear he has not.
nicoraven
imo colourless likelier?
elijah pickett
Oh no, people are standing up to my tyranny! Why would you do that!? I just want to enslave everybody I could possibly find?
elijah pickett
I am furious yet endlessly exited all at once about having to wait to see Oliander get his arrogant butt kicked.
Matt Cannon
Guys. If Sangor's family is here .... The Eron of Solar also made it back. Given how inspirational Eron has been .... I would love to see a fight where the Hopecrusher gets destroyed by the Hopebringer. Would also fit the fate narrative Viv is going for.
Reth
elemental colors + black methinks
Mantarok1205
Jolly good!
WarStrider72
Great chapter! Can’t wait for the aerial command island to appear!
Arnon Parenti
Oleander only won because the Goddess Maranor equipped him with legendary gear at level 1 and sent him to farm xp in the easy mode tutorial. Viv on the other hand kidnapped into hard-core with no tutorial by a god that was running from his wife and didn't care if his proxy died.
Matt Cannon
I want to point out that in the very first chapter of this series Maranor uses Slayer against Emeric, who uses [Divine Uncanny Dodge] to rscape it. So it is possible to dodge it. ---- If the sword hits what it is aimed at, then all Viv jas to do is get Nero to swing it at where she is going to be rather than at her. The *location* is hit but not her because skillz and fate fuckery.
nicoraven
big enough that even their baggage trains aka supplies managed to get through lol
John Lebaff
Thanks for the chapter!
Doctor Zero
Okay, how many Enorians switched sides? I need numbers to know how big of a fuck-up that was.
nicoraven
It really shows how the difference in Oleander and Viv’s management styles can impact the outcome of their side in the war. Oleander too stubborn in sticking to only his way and not accepting of inputs, ends up making poor/late decisions like only now creating mage flights just before the fight. Whereas Viv early on already knew she needed a strategist so that she can focus on what she does best + the big picture.
Emily Gurnavage
So hype. I cant wait. Do you guys think the fight itself will take more than 1 chapter? Im guessin the chapters will be half focused on the Ascended and half on the armies/dragons so im thinkin 2 more till Oleander is dead and then a cliffhanger for Vivs Ascension to Godhood which will be in the 3rd chapter from now.
Alexander Dupree
Machine guns imply rather advanced machining which artillery doesn’t require. You need high precision production lines or every gun will be bespoke and every bullet will take forever to make. Artillery started a thousand years before automatic guns for a reason.
nicoraven
Likely it’s been known that Neriad himself enforces the treatment of surrender and ill intent will backfire painfully? Could be too effective to be abused. Back during chp. 197 Kark vs Luten the commander surrendered “To the judgment of Neriad!”, Viv instantly judged him and sentenced him to death, so there’s that too. Got to really mean to surrender.
Momongama
I think I remember they get smited yes
Red Viking
"Waaa~ Why are you fighting back? Why are you winning~?" "Wouldn't you like to know, featherboy?" Absolutely delicuous.
Sloth
I really wanted to see a scene of a Hadal messing around with their kids on the battlefield, teaching them to assassinate. It would have been perfect
Arlano
It kinda sound like the end of Journey but I'm here for it!
Ferco
If someone surrenders just to get behind the enemy lines, does Neriad punish them? I don't remember why that rule wouldn't be abused.
Clara
Judgement upgrading Viv's shield is a pretty obvious setup for her shield finally becoming an artifact when she blocks the sword with it
Ekko
That line: "You brought a medieval army to my World War". Absolute banger, Viv truly is the Big Boss. Oleander truly only won, by being bigger and badder then everyone else. He is just a thug. Vivian is an Empress. She was given way shittier starting conditions and less time, but created something Oleander will never be able to.
T'Ericka
Ugh such great writing !
Josiah Henderson
Goddamned delightful to see how this is playing out
J
I'm pretty sure Viv's plan involves her dying (presumably not permanently; or maybe that's a requirement to fully Ascend or something). We know her plan involves Oleander using the sword again, which is supposed to 100% guarantee the target dies. It should also cripple Oleander fkr using it twice so shortly though. And Viv has plans for continuing the war when/if she dies. That or it is just a contingency and she is going to do some kind of trickery to make Oleander target something else by accident.
JHD
Thanks for the chapter!
J
Ah, yes, Viv's hubris. Because it just couldn't be Oleander or Maranor's hubris.
Dont_like_to_Talk
That last line from Viv is fire
SDCard
Thanks for the chapter!
Maurin
Damn this is so good, I WANT MOAARRR
John Anastacio
Rakan of the Five Colors? Used to be Four Colors. Did his repertoire improve and title change? Also I believe this is the first time his skin color has been mentioned. Wasn't sure what Hallurians looked like, so thank you. Thanks for the chapter.
Arlen
world war? i miss more artillery, poison gas and... machine guns! where are my birdies with machine guns laughing madly while they gun down hapless medieval soldiers?
Unwillingmainer
He really is a shit general. Good fighter and likely good with small elite units, but shit at the big stuff. Both sides are full of many different groups of people. However, Viv's side is full of people who want to be there, have trained together, and have full bellies and fresh boots. Oleander's side is all forced together and held together solely by his force of will. With empty bellies, broken helms, and no wish to fucking be in this mess. That's not even getting into the fate magic fuckery that Viv has been using and winning with. Or the artillery. But still, I'm sure both sides has tricks and trump cards, so it ain't over yet. Time for the Black Witch and the Immortal to find out just how killable they each are.
Aaron Greene
So Fucking Hyped!
LegosFreak
LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Aaron Greene
Absolutely fantastic start!
Aaron Greene
Booo 🤣😂🤣
WarStrider72
Try again
Aaron Greene
First *edit: Nope, Second
WarStrider72
Thanks for the chapter boss!
