Chapter 315: Full-Scale Advance and the Northern Situation

Chapter 315: Full-Scale Advance and the Northern Situation

“It was me, I killed him!”

George’s hands trembled as he clutched his rifle, the barrel still faintly warm.

This battle had reportedly drawn significant attention from the kingdom’s dignitaries, and even His Majesty himself. Naturally, no one dared to snatch this glory from him.

The hobgoblins and tieflings around George looked at him with envy and even jealousy. Their bloodshot eyes betrayed their regret and anger, as if they wanted to devour the human alive.

“Damn it…”

“It had to be him.”

“That lucky bastard. Just you wait.”

But they could only think such thoughts. Otherwise, the overseer’s whip would teach them the meaning of absolute military discipline.

After all, this was Count Loren Bosk, the coalition’s commander-in-chief. Such an achievement was enough to earn a noble title, yet it had been claimed by a mere human.

“Hahaha, I… I killed him,” George muttered to himself, already envisioning a meteoric rise, becoming one of the dragon-blooded nobility. All the hardships and trials he had endured now seemed trivial in the face of this sweet success.

With Loren Bosk lying dead by his rifle, George felt the deep-seated inferiority of his serf upbringing dissipate.

Those so-called noble lords weren’t much after all.

Even the most powerful of the Northern nobility, like the Bosks, were just as mortal as him—a “gray livestock” serf—when faced with bullets.

Loren’s death led to the complete collapse of the Bosk heavy cavalry.

Gunfire echoed incessantly around them. Wherever one looked, the forces of the Ember Kingdom advanced relentlessly, mowing down enemies like blades cutting through wheat.

The coalition’s gun-shield soldiers and archers soon broke as well, as the kingdom’s infantry and kobold forces attacked from front and rear, with elite skirmishers flanking. What seemed like a solid defensive position turned into a sieve, with Ember troops surging everywhere.

Worse yet, without their supreme commander, the coalition forces from various Northern duchies scattered like headless flies. Any attempts at resistance were quickly quashed.

Soon, the remnants of this stubborn force were entirely encircled and annihilated by the kingdom’s army.

Thus, the Battle of Aferton ended without a hitch. Most of the Ember Kingdom’s losses came from friendly fire.

Even the kingdom’s soldiers treated the battle as a mere exercise, finding it unsatisfying. Perhaps only George, who had seized an unexpected windfall, felt ecstatic.

The war continued, progressing at an astonishing pace.

Under the orders of Marshal Dolo and the kingdom’s general staff, the army launched a three-pronged assault to the west, east, and south.

Confident in their ability to crush the enemy even while divided, they aimed to maximize military efficiency.

This was yet another display of tactical disdain, but they had the strength to back it up.

Thanks to years of infiltration by the “Nocturne” unit, the military situation of the Northern duchies was an open book to the kingdom.

The kingdom’s strategists had long prepared analysis reports, pointing out that the millennia-old Northern United Kingdom, despite its size, was nothing more than a “giant baby” before the kingdom’s magical industrial revolution. Only the militaristic Bosk Duchy in the south warranted some attention.

And so, the advance began in earnest.

A mixed corps of two human reserve infantry divisions, a kobold cannon-fodder regiment, and several dozen wyverns spearheaded the western offensive. They tore through the coalition’s 40,000-strong defensive line on the flat plains of Barash in the Carter Duchy’s east.

Like a blade piercing a heart, the infantry and air forces drove deep, quickly fracturing and encircling the outdated coalition forces.

Meanwhile, an eastern army composed of two lizardman mixed cavalry divisions, goblin cannon-fodder units, nearly a hundred wyverns, and an ogre artillery battalion smashed through coalition defenses along rivers and mountain passes with overwhelming firepower.

Following their plan, they abandoned all logistical baggage to advance light and fast. Within days, they penetrated 60 kilometers into the Fano Duchy, reaching the eastern border of Anzeta and preparing to encircle local garrisons.

Compounding the Northerners’ woes was the image of Cassius’ speech, disseminated across Anzeta by wyverns. It struck fear into countless nobles.

Adding insult to injury, the player-led “Sparks” movement ignited rebellion across the Northern duchies.

These rebel forces, led by resourceful players and armed with Ember Kingdom weaponry, were tenacious and forced the nobles to deploy substantial private armies for suppression, further depleting their strength.

The fall of the Northern duchies seemed inevitable.

Yet they still had one last hope—the Bosk Duchy.

Home to the “Northern Lion” Grand Duke Leo Bosk, the legendary Lionheart Knights, and reinforcements from Feanzo Continent, the Material Plane, and even other dimensions, the duchy embodied the last vestiges of the old Northern order.

Their united power held the potential to decisively defeat the Ember Kingdom’s main force and slay the red dragon that threatened the North.

The Ember Kingdom’s strategists were acutely aware of this, as were the Northerners.

Thus, over a hundred Crimson Scaled Conquerors, 153 Dragon-Oath Paladins, an ogre artillery corps of over a thousand, tens of thousands of elite hobgoblin and tiefling infantry, more than a dozen chimeras, twenty heavily armored terrain drakes, over 600 wyverns, nearly 30,000 dragon-blooded kobolds, and the entire Starfall Legion gathered into one massive main force.

Their objective was singular—Straffburg, the largest city in the Bosk Duchy, the first city established during the Skanian migration, and the de facto capital of the millennia-old Northern United Kingdom.

The Ember Kingdom’s army advanced, the ground trembling beneath their march. Birds scattered in panic.

The air was filled with heavy breathing, the grinding of wheels over snow, and the ponderous footsteps of terrain drakes.

Amidst this procession, Medrolash glanced at the blond youth beside him, a meaningful look in his eyes.

“Andre, we’re about to face your father. What are your thoughts?”

“None,” the youth replied flatly.

Medrolash smiled, shaking his head. He spoke softly:

“Honestly, I still don’t understand why you joined the kingdom after living in Northwind Fortress for a time. You are, after all, a Bosk, the beloved son of Duke Leo.”

“…”

After a long silence, Andre gazed resolutely into the distance.

“For the sake of my oath, there are things in this world more important than power.”

“Besides, I haven’t joined the Ember Kingdom.”

“After living here for years, I see clearly now. Your kingdom is no beacon of virtue, but it’s still better than the festering rot that is the North.”

“Heh.”

Medrolash chuckled again but fell silent, as though he had heard an amusing joke.

This was a world of compromises, and the kingdom had undoubtedly won.

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