V5: Chapter 9

…

The best opponent is one that's been fucked over so hard before the fight that it would take a miracle for them to win.

Sure, if you have the technological, logistical, and economic advantages of a superpower, you can afford to just attack until the enemy dies. That's a benefit of being the big kid on the block with the best toys. Granted, everyone's going to come for your ass the moment you show weakness, but if you're strong enough that'll just be a good reason for you to fight back with justice and honor on your side.

But, in the end, I wasn't close to having enough air power to make my enemies fear clear skies.

So, I had to be creative.

Some may say that creativity during conflict can be considered war crimes, but I come from a nation that uses combat bulldozers to bury enemy combatants in their own trenches.

It's in my blood to be creative when it comes to conflict.

Having a thorough knowledge of what works in combat in this reality helps, as well. While it's terrible that the effects of the weapons and tactic aren't accurate, such as the bombs and incendiary weapons working far better than anticipated, the fact that they existed helped a lot. Will I need to experiment and figure out just how powerful/how weak everything I wanted to use was? Absolutely, I needed to know as much as possible about my tools as possible.

However, I could still make use of them in combat with the knowledge that they worked in the 'simulations' that I played through in my original life.

Case in point: the shit-creek opening with spicy rifles.

SOWSR for short.

Don't ask me where the c went.

It's the internet.

Anyway, I didn't make it. I completely stole it along with thousands of others. Whoever made it up is uncredited and will die unknown in the winter with an empty stomach. Without a doubt, it's the best opening for the human faction in the later stages of the early game.

Set up the battlefield with trenches and barricades if you've got the money and the right techs. Let the enemy charge into medium range, since long range accuracy is garbage in the early game. Hit them with the slow, the blind, and then stun with your utility mages, then lay into them with full volleys of all your rifles at medium range. Tarpit them with heavy infantry with pikes, hit them from the flanks with auxiliaries, and use aerial cavalry to cut off their escape. Once the enemy morale starts to flounder, and your debuffs might start hitting your units, you set the mages as ranged instead of artillery, focus on micro-ing your cavalry, and kill the enemy's Champions with your own.

And, of course, keeping reserves close to the HQ so some cheeky enemy Champion won't kill you.

There were casualties and deaths from the battle, that was going to happen without a doubt, but the less that there were the better.

I needed these people, and they put their trust in me, so I was going to do right by them.

No one is dying here without a reason, and none them will be forgotten.

…

"The Conquerors have hit the sides and they're not going to stop until they hit the middle." I put my people's attention on those two locations by pointing there. The headquarters was in a constant state of movement. Small reports were being tabulated at the 'in' section of the tent, while the 'out' section was rapidly conveying orders. I headed to the 'out' section, coordinating the signaling and messenger corps, with officers of the units fighting below. They kept an eye on their people, took in reports of casualties and deaths, and gave their people on the ground information tow work with. I focused on the whole battlefield. "The center looks thicker than they might be able to deal with. Tell the pikes to make an orderly retreat. Rifles and mages focus on giving them cover."

I chorus of voices resounded at my back.

If this were in the game, it would be simpler. A hotkey click and a drag move back for my units. The models in the screen will move according to my commands instantly. I had a decent enough rig, and the game wasn't that hard on the GPU unless you loaded it up with shaders and other mods, so I was used to instant responses. Unfortunately, in this case, there was severe input lag, so I had to give out orders predicting what would happen, rather than what was happening.

The Conquerors were hitting the body of the infested , and it didn't look like they had enough to meet and split the enemy army in half. Therefore, I had to give the order to pull my frontline back and give them covering fire to thin out the enemy center now. If I had instant responses with my troops, I could do better. Stutter the retreat, have the pike switch to wedge formations, land mage artillery shots on the enemy without fearing for friendly fire, and direct rifle volleys where they were needed.

I couldn't do any of that.

All I could do what try and read the flow of battle, put people in the right places at the right time, and trust in their training and discipline.

Needless to say, the lack of control was making me feel sick, especially since the lack of damage meant the battle would go on for longer, and that meant more deaths and casualties.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"My lord, you've been at this since the start of the battle. Perhaps, you should rest for one? Eat, as well?" Morgan was a bit different. I couldn't put my finger on it. She acted the same way, like a silly goof with massive glasses and a giant coat, like she wasn't the final boss. However, there was a bit of difference to her since we'd worked for the airlift. Maybe, she thought I was a good enough boss to tolerate and keep around, until her inevitable betrayal? "I stay in your place."

I was tempted, but decided against it.

"I can do at least this much, Morgan. In fact, I'd send you down there to help and the fight more quickly, if I didn't need a guard." I wanted to use my reserves. I wanted to send Morgan down there. They'd speed this battle up quickly, and the faster it was over, the less of my people would be hurt. However, I needed this HQ protected. It wasn't worth the risk of losing and dying, I knew that, but I still wanted to do it. The faster you kill the enemy, the more of your people that you retain, therefore unused DPS is a way of actively hurting yourself. "If you're that worried, call on a servant to bring me food here. I'll be staying."

"…Yes, my lord." Morgan bowed lightly and moved away to do just that. Moments later, she was hovering over my shoulder. "How about giving me half the battlefield to look over?"

Easy question to answer.

"You'll get your chance to lead battles, but not now." If the stakes were less high, I'd be all for giving Morgan a shot. That's how she'll get experience, learn, and grow stronger. While I couldn't ignore the fact that making stronger was bad, I couldn't ignore the fact that I'll need more… everything on my side. "Observe, watch, and prepare to swap with Ayah when she returns."

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"I understand, my lord." Morgan's reply was terse, but nothing came after it, so I just focused on the battle.

The order I'd given had just taken effect, my pikes were kiting the enemy back, staying in contact with them, but spreading the frontline out. Training and good officers kept the mass of armor and long pointy sticks together, while the enemy surged after them. The supporting fire from the mages and rifles came into effect as I'd asked, and they gained some breathing room for their maneuver.

Meanwhile, bombs kept dropping on the enemy's rear, their center was getting sandwiched by Conquerors, and my Champions funneled them into the meat grinder.

But I couldn't look away.

If I could give one more order, if I could see one more opportunity to capitalize on and this even a minute faster, then I would.

This fight, as well as it was going, was something I already personally counted as a loss.

Yeah.

After this, it's time to spy on everyone, friend or foe, influence everything and everyone that I can, and use every underhanded trick in the book.

As the saying goes, every battle avoided is a battle won.

…

Interlude: Rita

…

The winds howled across the plains, yet the screams of men and the roaring of beasts triumphed over nature.

My bowstring bit into my fingers, having worn away my gloves, as I place two shots into the skull of a Conqueror turned into a demon. It lunged at me with a mouth full of blood and bile, both burning in contact with the air. All its size and mass mattered little, even whilst doggedly improved by the corruption that pervaded its body, as my arrows sank into its skull and burst out the other side.

One felled, yet hundreds more awaited.

No sooner did I kill the creature did I find myself confronted by another, and I drew my knives ready to cut apart its legs, stride up its back, and slice through its spine.

Instead, the creature, with its arms reared back to thrust at me with bones turned into weapons, the creature splits apart.

Ilych was revealed by the bifurcated halves falling away from one another.

Our gazes met and she spoke to me a moment later, and she offered me a hand, her black plate covered in gore and bile. The Ancient-forged armor refused to imbibe the corrupted creatures' blood, despite the power it promised.

I ran at Ilych, readying arrows as I did, and she readied herself by crouching and coiling against the ground like a spring.

Which she exactly intended to be.

I reached her, planted my foot firmly on her armored palm, and a moment later she threw me upward into the air, whilst I leapt from her palm with all the force I could muster to go higher, faster.

I looked in every direction as I flowed into the air, willing air to catch me and hasten my ascent, while sharpening my mind and my eyes to see everything.

The front line was holding, but at a grave cost. Fathers, sons, and brothers of the villages that relied upon us lay dead, their scarlet blood mixing with the burnt, blackened, and brackish blood. The bodies felled demons were everywhere, burning and hazardous even in death. Even so high up, the scent of burnt flesh, viscera, and grime reached me. Down there, soldiers could choke on the festering scent, yet still… the front held. Soldiers armed simply with long pikes, their comrades, and tough armor held back the creatures of legend, while at their back bullets and arcane might felled enemy after enemy.

The rear of the demonic army was completely aflame. An inferno formed upon the dry plains outside of the Conqueror's capital. The tail of the demonic force had been the main focus of the aerial cavalry since the start. They rained explosives upon the enemy with gusto, the bombs containing product of alchemical secrets once known only by the Scholars of the Skies, gouged the earth with every explosion and ripped apart Conquerors with direct hits, while incendiary bombs set them alight.

They chased down all that tried to leave to corrupt and unmake another place with their their power.

Finally, there was the center, where Conquest searched for redemption.

There. the uncorrupted clashed against the defiled. Lightning suffused the weapons of those that crashed against their former brothers, mentors, and elders. Their forms were mostly unarmored, but their wounds healed as their shamans expended themselves, and even barriers of wind covered their bodies. Those whose weapons broke brought their fellows to heel, binding them in chains composed by magic, even if it meant risking their lives.

They fought to save their people, and as I crested the apex of my jump and readied my arrows, I saw it.

The duel between Crusher and Conquest.

One corrupted by demonic forces and wielding a sword that overtook his entire right arm and turned it into a sinister limb covered in ebony scales and golden eyes.

The other corrupted by redemption.

They clashed at the very center of the battle. The weapon of the Deliverer in Conquest's hands, wreathed in lightning, as it coursed into her father. Such was the strength of their weapons clashing against one another that those not amongst the ranks of Champions were thrown away, unable to even stand in their presence. Those that tried to help either were cut down or knocked unconscious by movements, each one made as an afterthought.

The ground at the feat was torn asunder, gouges upon the earth either coursing with lightning or stained red and beginning to ignite into flames that will endlessly burn.

Their contest alone shaped the world around them, dictating that the battle would be decided by the victor, and so they were both worthy of the name Champion.

As was I.

I pulled back my bowstring with a movement that was as natural to me as breathing, and the rest of the world faded away. Neither the heavens and their secrets, nor the earth and its turmoil, mattered to me. All that did was my target, Crusher, and the arrows that I had kept safe in my quiver. It hurt to hold, so brilliant it was with life and blessings that I my very nature rebelled against it, but I disregarded my pain.

For a brief moment, I was no longer Rita, but the arrow set to be loosed.

Nothing but the arrow and its target existed.

All else was darkness.

And, even the arrow and the target disappeared, as I willed into being the path to connect two points in space and time with a single action.

I let the arrow go, but even before I did, I knew that it would strike true as I fell back down to the world before.

My king bid me to save someone he called friend, and so I did all that I could.