Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The sentry tumbled and scrambled down from the top of the fort, shouting in panic, "Signal flare! Red! East side of the city wall."

Everyone's hearts suddenly tightened.

According to the prearranged agreement, a red signal flare meant that the front line commander had determined that their troop had encountered enemy magic forces.

"Move out!" Major Moritz grabbed his helmet and rose to his feet, followed closely by the momentarily disoriented officers.

They quickly led their warhorses out of the triangular fort and galloped towards the east side of the city wall.

The sun had not yet surfaced, but the sky was growing brighter, revealing a deep blue color.

Sea fog began to waft through the air, mixing with the battlefield's gunsmoke and sharply reducing visibility.

The drummers pounded on their drums with all their might; the sound thudded against people's chests. Archers, both atop and outside the walls, were firing blindly in the enemy's direction, and wounded soldiers who could still walk stumbled out.

The scene was one of extreme chaos, as Major Moritz bellowed "Out of the way!" and drove the soldiers blocking his path aside. His horse plowed recklessly through the ranks, with others following in the path he cleared.

However, as everyone rushed to the eastern side of the battlefield, they suddenly realized: they had no idea where the signal flare had been fired from.

The breaches in the east side of the city wall were numerous—there were three in total—and fighting was breaking out at each one. The battle situation was spiraling out of control. The organization of many hundred-man units had collapsed, and wherever there was the sound of combat, officers were leading their soldiers that way.

After three circular attempts without finding the position, the spellcasters grew increasingly restless,

Fortunately, another red signal flare burst into the sky, and the riders charged in the indicated direction.

[The primitive signal flares used by the Venetian army would explode in mid-air, not lingering for long.]

By the time Moritz's squad arrived below where the signal flare had been, the Venetians who had been first to scale the wall had already been repelled by the defenders.

The lead troops' organization had collapsed, and they were running out from the breach. However, the soldiers that followed had not yet engaged the enemy and were forcefully squeezing into the breach.

A group was trying to escape, another was trying to push their way in, and for a time the breach was completely blocked, both groups unable to move.

Those Venetians who had the misfortune of falling were trampled by the crowd, screams of agony filling the air. The defenders in the city relentlessly chased and cut down those fleeing, not needing to wait for the routed to run out before being killed by their pursuers.

The sides of the breaches were recaptured by the Tanilians, with more and more defenders appearing on the walls. The Tanilians occupied an excellent position high above, injuring the Venetians at the breach from above.

Projectiles flew in all directions, the smoke thickened, and the sounds of battle cries and wailing never ceased.

In the midst of the chaos, since the officers had all switched to wearing the soldiers' armor today, the spellcasters couldn't find the field commander for a moment.

Not until they heard a furious voice roaring, "[Expletive]! Stop bickering here! Disperse to the left and right! Let them come out first! Seventh century squad! Disperse to the left and right! Disperse to the left and right!"

Without the aid of magic, the roar managed to surpass the chaos of the battlefield.

The soldiers who had been desperately pushing into the breach were stunned for a moment and then actually began to disperse to the sides of the breach, clearly very familiar with the voice of their Centurion.

"Siege ladders! Onto the walls!" the Centurion continued to roar.

Following the order, the soldiers picked up the siege ladders that had been pushed down and set them against the city wall again. Shield-bearing swordsmen, protected by their shields, climbed the walls on both sides of the breach and fought the defenders, silencing the guns on the wall.

Moritz spotted the Centurion mixed in with the soldiers at a glance and led the squad of spellcasters through the chaotic crowd with difficulty, grabbing hold of the Centurion's arm and shouting loudly, "Juan! Did you send the signal flare?"

In the midst of the dire battle, Lieutenant Juan, busy commanding, reacted with fury when a soldier grabbed his arm and called him by his surname without ceremony.

An expletive reached the brink of his lips, but then Juan recognized that the man in a soldier's uniform before him was Major Moritz.

He swallowed the coarse words back down, Tang Juan shook off the Major's hand and asked anxiously, "What did you say?"

"The signal flare!" Moritz pointed to the sky, "Did you launch it?"

"Signal flare? Not me!" Juan denied hastily, turning to head towards the breach in the wall.

Moritz grabbed hold of Juan's arm once again, pressing, "Where is your captain?"

"I don't know! Where the hell should I know?" Tang Juan lost his temper, not caring that the Major before him outranked him by three grades, and violently broke free from Moritz's hold.

The cheers of the Tanilians pierced through the smoke from behind; the defenders were celebrating their retaking of the breach. The Venetians had been driven off the wall, tumbling and scrambling out through the route cleared by Juan's century.

Hearing the Tanilians' cheers, Tang Juan realized the breach had changed hands.

With a swift move, he planted his sword in the ground and bellowed loudly, "Grenades!"

A dozen tall, muscular soldiers quickly gathered around Centurion Juan upon hearing the order. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

Lieutenant Juan took a metal ball in a rope net from one of the soldiers, and the other soldiers also took out similar objects from their backpacks.

Winters recognized what Senior Juan was holding; it had no official name yet, but it went by many: bomb, grenade, explosive… users could call it whatever they wanted.

But whatever it was called, it was an exceptionally dangerous weapon—not just for the enemy, but even more so for the user.

"Ready!"

A soldier nearby lit the fuse of the iron bomb in Lieutenant Juan's hand, and Centurion Juan took a deep breath, swinging the iron bomb above his head by the rope.

The hissing iron bomb circled overhead, pulled by the rope, making a terrifying whistling sound.

"Throw!" Lieutenant Juan shouted as he released his grip, sending the bomb flying toward the breach in the wall, trailing the hemp rope along its tangential path.

The other grenadiers followed the Centurion's lead, sending a dozen more iron-cased bombs flying into the smoke.

Limited by the level of casting technology, the lightest throwing bombs equipped by the Venetian army weighed four pounds, and could not be used by anyone who wasn't physically strong; therefore, grenadiers were all carefully selected strong men.

But even these elite soldiers needed a sling-like rope net to throw the heavy iron bombs far enough.

Carrying a bomb that could explode at any time was terrifying enough—people of this era still didn't understand static electricity.

The "throwing" method was even more dangerous: no one could stand next to the thrower, and if misguided, the bomb could land among their own ranks.

Hence, very few people could use this weapon, even fewer dared to; it was simply too dangerous. However, in shoulder-to-shoulder, face-to-face siege warfare, its lethality was also quite astonishing.

Continuous explosions erupted from behind the smokescreen, and the cheers of the Tanilians were no longer heard, only the inhuman screams and moans.

"Continue! Don't stop! Use up all the grenades!" Juan's loud command woke up the soldiers who were still in shock. The grenadiers took new iron bombs from their backpacks, casting them toward the breach in the wall.

Moritz's squad was frozen in place, and the noise was so intense that Captain Lailo had to shout into Major Moritz's ear, "Sir! What do we do?"

"Wait!"

In front of Winters, a grenadier was shakily striking flint, but no matter what, he could not light the fuse.

This grenadier hadn't managed to throw his bomb with Centurion Juan in the first round, and while the other soldiers had thrown at least three times each, he was still struggling to ignite the fuse of his first bomb.

"Give it to me!" Winters couldn't bear to see the panicked grenadier potentially throw the bomb onto their own men.

The frantic grenadier had a look of both helplessness and gratitude in his eyes as he let Winters take the iron bomb from his hands.

Winters lit the fuse with a fire-starting spell and then tossed the bomb into the breach behind the wall as if casting a shot put. Since he hadn't practiced with it, Winters didn't dare to use the sling to launch the bomb and simply threw it like a shot put instead. Fortunately, his basic fitness was good enough that even with this method, the throw wasn't too short.

The sight of Winters igniting the fuse with a mere gesture shocked the panicked grenadier into freezing on the spot.

Winters, after throwing the bomb, reprimanded him, "What are you standing there for? Give me another one!"

The grenadier hastily took out another bomb, and Winters repeated the previous action.

Juan had each of his grenadiers carry six backup bombs, and with this continued effort, Winters had used up all his bombs even faster than the other grenadiers, despite being three rounds behind.

"If only this thing weighed only one pound," Winters wiped the sweat from his forehead, wishing, "Even at two pounds, it wouldn't be so troublesome to use."

He suddenly noticed that Lieutenant Juan, who had thrown his six rounds of bombs, looked at him deeply. In their mutual gaze, Centurion Juan nodded at his junior and then turned around to shout, "The military flag!"

The flag bearer quickly took out the flag from his bosom, affixed it to a long spear, and handed it to the Centurion.

Lieutenant Juan, holding the Golden Lion Flag aloft, roared, "Follow the military flag! Attack! Follow the military flag! Attack!" He led his hundred men headlong into the breach in the wall.

Seeing this, even the most discouraged soldiers felt a surge of shame. Many Venetians who had fled from the breach also picked up their weapons and followed Juan's century into the wall.

Issuing conspicuous armor to officers wasn't for appearance's sake, but so the timid soldiers could clearly see their commanders right beside them.

Swapping an officer's armor for a soldier's might reduce the impact of spellcasters, but it also undermined the will of the Venetian army.

Lieutenant Juan raising the military flag let all the soldiers present know he had not retreated an inch, but it also made him a target.

"Major, what do we do?" Lailo couldn't help but ask again.

"Follow Centurion Juan!" Moritz drew his sword, taking large strides to catch up, "If there's a spellcaster among the Tanilians, Centurion Juan is the most obvious target!"