Chapter 347: Chapter 248: Deploying Troops and Generals_2
At this time, a resolute man rode on horseback into the area, atop a brown mare with a diamond-shaped white patch on her forehead.
Their intrusion startled the crows perched on the bones, scattering them into the sky, yet they refused to leave completely.
The man dismounted with swift and deft movements that displayed his agile figure. His fine armor and the pair of longswords on his back all signified that he was no ordinary fighter.
His grey hair was tied in a ponytail, and a scar crossed over his left eye, but it did not mar his handsome face; instead, it added a certain unique charm.
What was most unusual were the man’s golden vertical pupils, not found in normal humans, giving him a somewhat demonic appearance.
The white-haired man’s golden eyes scanned the ritual site. He squatted next to the Blood Pool, ran a hand through it, and murmured quietly as he examined the smear of blood on his fingertip.
Aberrant Demon sacrifice, the blood is not yet dry... they haven’t gone far...
As he said this, he stood up and looked toward the north. The action caused the roaring wolf head pendant on his chest to sway.
Many were eager to take on this mission; after all, Totnes officials were always so generous.
The man did not linger any longer and mounted his horse, gently patting its side.
"Let’s go, Radish."
The mare, whom the man called Radish, responded meekly to his voice and soon began moving northward.
As the man rode away, the circling crows once again landed. But before they could enjoy the scene for too long, another intruder disturbed them. This time, however, it was a uniquely dressed woman.
The woman was wrapped in a simple brown nun’s robe, with an attached hood that covered her face.
That attire was quite normal. The odd part was the thick armor she wore over it, with the Holy Canon in her right hand and a metallic warhammer in her left.
The battered armor and warhammer indicated that this woman was anything but frail. It was clear she was not to be trifled with.
Contrary to the calm demeanor of the white-haired man earlier, when this woman laid eyes on the scene, she erupted with intense anger, raised her warhammer, and roared.
"Profane things! Burn in the Holy Flame!"
A bizarre spectacle unfolded. An imperceptible force emanated from her hands, sweeping across the site of the ritual and dispelling its gloomy atmosphere. Though most people wouldn’t feel anything, perhaps just noticing the environment getting brighter.
But the woman’s fury was not yet quelled, as her faith in the Holy Flame could not tolerate such evil on this divine land.
"Holy Flame, guide me..." she lowered the warhammer, raised the Holy Canon to her forehead, and began to mutter some incomprehensible words under her breath.
Soon, as if reaching a decision, she looked up towards the north. This was when her face was revealed, showing well-defined features that held a sharp, almost handsome quality, her eyes blazing with anger—a testament to her unwavering faith in the Holy Flame.
With the woman resuming her journey, the desolate village returned to its quiet state, save for the harsh cawing of the circling crows.
Some were driven by the promise of a hefty reward, others by the conviction in their hearts, yet none seemed to care about the dead villagers. But such is the world...
Perhaps more people will visit this village, but they will be too late.
「 」
Above the Ascension Camp, the refugees converted to Heretics were undergoing training, lacking any sort of method. It was sheer, frantic fighting, a continuous melee among themselves.
They all seemed to be involved in a frenzy, completely disregarding their opponents and their own injuries, just forcing their way through. Perhaps not even the training of the Barbarian Tribes in the Mountains was as ruthless as theirs.
It wasn’t that this method was bad. On the contrary, it was raw competition that could swiftly filter out those with potential and courage, where only the most ruthless could stand their ground.
The cost, however, raised the question: what to do with the discarded, the ones who didn’t make the cut?
"Flesh Ascension!" a Heretic roared, knocking down his opponent. Around him lay several bodies, proof that he had survived an encirclement and even defeated others.
His body was covered in various wounds, many of them bleeding, but his spirited frenzy showed no signs of injury.
The man felt the power inside himself. It was hard to imagine that just a month ago he was a refugee on the brink of starvation, yet now he possessed muscles like those of a bodybuilder and such immense strength.
This was the great power bestowed by the gods, and he swore to achieve Ascension and return to the side of the gods...
Not far away, someone was watching all this with disdain.
"Damn it, such bad luck," Lance complained. He had been squatting for almost a day and a night with no one from the camp making contact. He guessed the camp still had supplies left and the time wasn’t right.
Lance had mentally prepared for such a gamble, so he hadn’t told them explicitly about this part of the plan.
But waiting in vain still left him somewhat resentful. With the appointed time approaching, his only option was to wait for the encirclement and see if he could capture a few small fries for information.
"Wang Cai, let’s go."
He called to Wang Cai, who was close to going crazy from boredom, and withdrew from the vicinity of the camp, then headed to the rendezvous point.
The soldiers of the current era, if from the Empire, were just scraping by. If they were conscripted militia from the Nobility, they were even more like cannon fodder.
Troops of such quality could hardly execute a rapid march. They would stroll during regular marches and only run their fastest when fleeing in panic.
But Hamlet’s professional soldiers were different. Ample supplies and intense training enabled their bodies to withstand the rigors of a forced march.
Two hundred fully armed elites had already gathered, clear on their mission, showing no fear but rather a hint of zeal.
Not just anyone had the privilege to stand by the Lord’s side; they were the elite chosen ones!
The team was led by Reynard, Barton, and Boudica. William and Balistan were rotating out, as they couldn’t afford to draw away too many personnel and risk issues in town—security was still crucial.
"We’re up against a Heretic camp this time, with roughly two hundred people inside. I need the team to split into two groups and encircle them from the left and right..."
Lance briefly described the camp situation. He had made no other gains during the day, but the tactical arrangements had been rehearsed countless times.
Reynard and Barton would each lead a team, composed of fifty longspears and fifty muskets. Once battle commenced, Barton’s team would flank from the left and right to the enemy’s rear. While the frontal assault attracted the enemy’s attention, Barton’s team was to immediately seize the building ruins to block the camp’s escape route. Reynard’s team would charge from the front.
Lance and his group would focus on the elites who weren’t afraid of bullets, ready to intervene if the soldiers couldn’t hold their own.
"Do you know what my first encounter with these Heretics was like? At that time..."
Lance briefly recounted the time he raided a Heretic stronghold in town, then detailed some of the evil cult’s tactics.
His words instantly stirred the soldiers. Their faces displayed anger, disgust, and repulsion; after all, any human would be disturbed by such cruel rituals.
Lance didn’t stop there. He continued by describing the previous situation in Hamlet, where a group of Heretics had tried to infiltrate, carry out massacres, and spread plague.
While the earlier brutality he described might have seemed distant and unrelated, this was different. Many of them had participated in that battle and witnessed it firsthand.
The discomfort turned to rage when they realized such bloody, twisted rituals could be inflicted upon them or their loved ones.
All the soldiers’ expressions turned to righteous fury. They gripped their weapons tightly, eager to eliminate those fiends right then and there.
Lance saw their reactions. He knew how to stir the soldiers’ emotions before battle and emphasized in a serious tone,
"You should have seen what Heretics are like. Those creatures can no longer be regarded as human. Their existence is a threat to Hamlet, and we must eradicate them, every last one. Understood?"
Lance’s gaze swept over the crowd. No more words were needed; the message was clear.
"Check your equipment, move out!"