Chapter 28
“A stronghold defensive line tactic, you say?”
The stronghold defensive line tactic, which would later become the top item in humanity’s defensive warfare doctrine, was originally a temporary name given by Ria Riley when she visited Marshal Krauzan.
“Could you explain it to me?”
“Siege defense normally relies on a single line. The line on the city wall—once that is breached, it’s over. If there’s an inner wall, then there’s a second line, of course.”
“Go on.”
“When you can’t hold a single defensive line like now, you divide it into multiple lines and repel the enemy line by line.”
“So, by creating 1st, 2nd, and 3rd lines and dispersing the defensive focus, then retreating while defending according to the situation?”
“Yes. Urban warfare, where every accessible location can be used as a trench, cover, or fortress, provides enormous advantages to human combat. This tactic maximizes that advantage.”
Krauzan stroked his chin, his eyes gleaming.
“Hmm, as long as we can retreat along lines equipped with supply depots and fortifications and repeatedly engage in defensive battles, supply issues shouldn’t arise.”
“We can also rotate reserves in the rear with exhausted frontline troops, smoothly shifting to an offensive when necessary.”
And that wasn’t all.
According to the original siege doctrine, three sides—the East Gate, South Gate, and West Gate—had to be defended. But with this tactic, a single defensive line could be arranged in a gentle curve.
“Though it’s a method that can only be used in Kerkhnud with the sea at the rear, wouldn’t it be worth testing?”
At that explanation, the battle-hardened strategist Krauzan reportedly slapped his forehead and laughed heartily.
“My theory has always been that a beautiful woman can also be brilliant. I’ve never been wrong. They’re not unintelligent; they just don’t see a reason to use their brain.”
“That’s probably a bit biased… but it’s still an honor.”
“You’ve already set the stage without my permission. You must have had a line of thought in mind, right?”
Slaughter of Three Thousand,
Kerkhnud Withdrawal Operation (3)
The above events later became known as the full story of how five defensive lines were established in the city of Kerkhnud.
[Kaisen, you can stop fighting now. Fall back.]
While he had been spinning his blade endlessly at the South Gate, a butterfly of light arrived with a message.
It was Ludien, a butterfly of light created by Arte, the magician of the Black Rose Regiment.
The butterfly reported that the defensive lines, devised by Ria and quickly reinforced by Krauzan, were functioning perfectly.
“This way, Peiquorier!”
Uruk warriors immediately followed, but their pursuit was crushed by a storm of bullets and cannon fire.
From barricades built with grain units, barrels of oil, and sandbags, riflemen rained fire upon them. From there, Peiquorier assisted the defense, cutting down countless Uruks from the first to the third line.
He couldn’t help but feel genuine admiration.
Amazing…
Even the ferocious momentum of the Uruks gradually waned as the lines held.
The explosions hurled by catapults acted as solid breakwaters for towers and rooftops.
We can win.
With this method, we can win.
For a brief moment, hope flickered—but it failed. The fortress defense system had collapsed.
It wasn’t Ria’s fault.
In fact, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Who could have calculated the sheer power of the High Kuun Tark, the force of the Tahuf Clan?
When the Tahufkipfel Ranikikan and its direct combat unit, the Tahuf Hyuler, moved from the rear to the vanguard, the tide of battle shifted.
KRAAAANG──!
The signal of despair roared for the first time audibly. The ground shook violently, rattling hearts, as the clock tower on the third line’s right wing collapsed with a deafening crash.
Ria, assisting Krauzan in command from the central stronghold, looked on in shock.
“An explosion?”
Meanwhile, explosions continued—bang, bang, bang…—splitting in two directions.
“Arte!”
Sharon cried out.
Arte, the regiment’s magician and the core of the defensive system, broke into a cold sweat on his forehead.
“How is this… the right wing is collapsing. The damage is catastrophic. There’s no way to stop it.”
Countless magical butterflies, Ludien, danced around Arte, reporting the state of the battlefield.
“The right wing… is that the West Gate side? And of course, the weakest side…”
Isla was defending the East Gate.
Even without a magician, anyone could read the situation.
Ding, ding, ding, ding…
The bell signaling “defense line cannot hold” kept ringing from the right.
“One is approaching the center of the defense line.”
“The other?”
“…The coast.”
A moment of despairful silence fell.
The coast was in the midst of an evacuation operation. Soldiers without guns, refugees who hadn’t yet left the land—if exposed to the enemy, the unarmed would be slaughtered.
“Sir, let’s fall back to the fifth line. We must equip the coastal soldiers and have them fight…”
“No, that number is wrong. Remember, young tactical hero—attack is the best move at the right moment.”
“Sir, humanity’s chance of victory drops sharply without defense.”
“I mean the stance of merely reacting defensively to the enemy’s moves.”
“…?”
“I have two Peiquorier units at my disposal. Let’s pull the third line back to the fourth, and gradually collapse the fourth.”
“What do you mean?”
“After nearly forty years fighting Uruks, I’ve learned that clans using such tactics often collapse if the leader is defeated—especially those commanding fanatics.”
Krauzan moved the pieces on the city map back to the mark labeled “4,” then adjusted the curve of movement to midway between “4” and “5,” near Ilanus Square.
One knight representing Peiquorier was placed in the center of the square, the other moved toward the coast.
“I’ll lure them here and hunt them. Uruks are clever—they won’t come willingly. So I will be the bait.”
“Sir.”
“Of course, I don’t intend to die. You must ensure the trap succeeds.”
Even if he wanted to remain silent… here, he had to nod decisively.
“Sir, how many troops can we pull here? As you said, the Uruks are extremely cunning. They’ll detect any movement.”
“Indeed. That’s why we’ll use Hosen’s Rapid Fire Unit here.”
Hosen’s Rapid Fire Unit—nicknamed the First Guard Regiment of the fallen southern kingdom of Hosen—was famed for unleashing massive firepower at incredible speed until their ammunition ran out. Unlike most guard units composed of heavy gunners, they prioritized agility over size.
“Where are they and how many?”
“About 1,200, covering the left wing.”
“Call them immediately.”
Krauzan’s gaze then shifted to the head witch of the Cerulean Rose Association.
The mage suffered greatly from the shattering of the area barrier; her face wrinkled more, her breathing erratic. She barely nodded.
“Once the lure succeeds, I’ll extend a barrier that will trap them here for a while.”
As she turned to move forward, a shiver ran through him at the thought of the fate rising before them.
“No.”
Sharon intercepted that shiver.
“I’ll do it. I’m the lead Peiquorier, not Kaisen.”
“But you…”
“This war will be long—longer than the previous Black Summer. His power will be needed more, not mine at the end.”
Sharon seemed ready to sacrifice herself here, much like Camilla had. Her eyes shone brilliantly with hope, so brightly that it took time to fully grasp.
“Senior, but…”
“The operation has already started. Go to the coast. You defend it, Kaisen. Don’t lose a single life. You’re a hero.”
As always, he realized slowly, moving across city rooftops. The scene before him was utterly horrific.
‘I never thought it would be this bad…’
Amid shouts and gunfire, Uruks advanced in frenzied madness without proper arms. Normally, Uruks hesitate if shot in the limbs, but these…
“Shoot! Shoot them down!”
“They’re endless!”
“J-je-jeegaaal!”
Their tendons torn, knees crushed, they crawled forward, and upon reaching a target, the cursed mark on their foreheads flared, detonating their bodies.
Yes. Explosions.
Soldiers caught in the murderous heat turned to charred ashes. Nearby soldiers were splattered with corrosive blood and painfully dissolved.
“Guh, guaaah!”
“M-my eyes!”
The Tahuf Clan’s fanatics.
Uruks traditionally abandoned those born with deformities or unfit to fight. The clan chief gathered all such discarded Uruks under his command, combining them with his own tactics as suicide squads. At the time, no one could know. They could only try to read the situation calmly.
“Mom!”
“No! Don’t come!”
Amid volcanic ash, refugees lost their minds and fled toward the coast. The city became an instant battlefield. Bells, gunfire, and whistles created chaotic sensory confusion. Adults searched for lost children, children cried for missing parents—the sounds collided and overlapped.
─ Cross Slash Technique, Form 4, Release (発)
First, ready the draw. The fanatics were close behind. A child stood over his fallen mother, gripping a pickaxe.
─ Cross Slash Technique, Form 5, Sudden Strike
Leaping forward, he struck the ground with the scabbard, channeling centrifugal force, inertia, and energy into the blade. The red line of blood cut across the horizon; severed fanatics exploded.
“Are you okay?”
Tears welled on the boy’s face. His pants were wet.
“Well done. Take your mother and go.”
He was better than him. He had failed to protect his own mother. Yet the boy now carried hers safely toward the coast, shouting shortly after:
“Thank you so much, hero!”
He couldn’t find words to respond, only saluted. The mother bowed deeply. It reminded him painfully of his own mother and childhood.
No time for illusions. The battle raged.
The fanatics’ eyes were rolled back; they dripped saliva, lacking all consciousness.
Every mastermind has a commander. Remember this. How quickly they are eliminated will determine the outcome.
The dragon’s eye pinpointed a distant target—the mage responsible for the disaster on the wall. It was their second encounter with the Tahufkipfel Ranikikan.
‘Not an ordinary mage…’
Unlike other chiefs, he was hunched, weak, but commanded fanatics with a staff dripping human skulls. His bone armor woven from human ribcages numbered at least a thousand.
‘Shall I awaken the dragon spirit?’
No. Using it would collapse him for hours. If he isn’t the chief… the right wing is doomed.
The roof tiles at his feet shattered as he used amplified force to project Aradamantel forward. A quick strike to hit the rear.
‘Perfect.’
Weight plus centrifugal force sent Aradamantel on the path of victory.
‘Target acquired.’
He thought no counterattack could succeed—but then──blocked.
A fanatic Uruk had silently appeared. Aradamantel cleanly sliced its body, but the cursed mark remained.
Boom!
The body exploded, blinding and deafening momentarily.
Hot. Skin burned. A shiver of death ran down his spine. If not for Peiquorier’s body, he would have died.
When he swung Aradamantel to clear the smoke, the fanatic had already retreated. Ahead, hundreds of fanatics charged, relentless, mechanical—immune to fear.
Then, Hyuler’s voice thundered:
“Nu, nunununununueeet! Your blasphemous blood defiles even your soul, and there is no atonement!”
A chilling shiver ran through him. Instinctively, he prepared to unleash the dragon’s power. Fanatics leapt from rooftops—hundreds, maybe a thousand.
The last swing cut down a dozen Uruks.
Bang, bang, bang… successive explosions shattered his hearing. White vision turned yellow, all senses overwhelmed by pain. A soldier witnessing the storm screamed in terror:
“Peiquorier is dead!”
