Chapter 110 - Like the Eyes of a Lost Child (6)
Not just Ernest—his entire 1st Squad fired at the approaching enemies, quickly crouching to reload.
In that brief moment, the enemy had already leapt over the low earthen wall and into the trench.
"Kill them!"
Bang bang bang!
The 2nd Squad, positioned in the rear, opened fire just in time to stop the charging enemy soldiers from gunning down the 1st Squad from above.
Ernest, having just finished reloading, faced a horde of enemy soldiers hurtling down before many of his squadmates could even reload.
"Uwaaah!"
Rather than sticking to the wall, Ernest instinctively leapt backward.
It wasn't a calculated move—just a reaction.
A Bellian soldier swung his bayonet at Ernest as he landed but missed and fell awkwardly to the ground, unable to get a proper foothold.
Thud! Stab!
Ernest kicked away the soldier's rifle and drove his bayonet into the man's back.
"―――!"
A shout in incomprehensible Bellian rang out above him.
Ernest flung himself back again, raised his rifle, and fired.
Bang!
The pale blue flash of a Balt round cut through the haze.
Another figure crumpled and rolled into the trench.
These guys...!
Ernest, backing away through the mud while reloading and scanning his surroundings, realized something was wrong.
"No batteries! They don't have batteries!"
None of the enemies charging into the trench were firing.
Their Balt rifles lacked Balt batteries.
"Fall back!"
Ernest's decision was reckless but immediate.
He ordered the 1st Squad to pull back.
If the enemy had rifles with batteries, they'd be gunned down instantly while retreating—but they didn't.
"Kol! Do you see anyone shooting?!"
"Damn it! No!"
Kol's answer was more a curse of frustration than despair.
"Kill them all! Kill them all!"
Kol bellowed as the 2nd Squad took solid positions and unleashed a storm of bullets.
"Get your heads down! There's one with a rifle!"
Ernest shouted as he caught the danger too late.
Whip! Crack!
"Gah!"
While the 2nd Squad had been firing with heads exposed, a Bellian soldier did have a working rifle.
Using fallen comrades as cover, he carefully took aim and fired—killing three 2nd Squad soldiers in the blink of an eye.
Kol's single mistake meant the 2nd Squad could no longer hold the line, and the 1st Squad had to engage in brutal close combat with the enemies now flooding into the trench.
"You bastard, Kol!"
Ralf cursed as he gunned down a charging enemy, then lunged forward with bayonet drawn to meet them in melee.
"Die! Die!"
"Aaaagh!"
"Help me!"
Caught off guard, the 1st Squad was quickly overwhelmed by the numerically superior Bellian troops.
Locked in melee, they became too entangled for the 2nd Squad to support with gunfire.
"Gustav! Gustav!"
Having spent his last bullet, Ernest called out hoarsely while defending himself with his bayonet.
Bang bang bang!
Luckily, Gustav had been paying attention.
Gunfire roared.
If the 1st Squad could just hold their position, the 3rd Squad could fire directly into the enemy's exposed side.
But even with Gustav, the 3rd Squad only had eleven people and were engaged in battle on their own front.
"Hrgh!"
Thud!
No time to reload.
Ernest blocked an enemy bayonet, twisted aside, and smashed his rifle stock into the attacker's face.
"Die! Die!"
"You fucker! Die!"
Two 1st Squad soldiers pounced before the enemy could get up, stabbing him to death.
With death so close, all fear of killing vanished.
Their minds broken by terror, the trembling rookies now slaughtered enemies in a frenzy.
"Diiie!"
Ernest began to understand what the Bellian soldiers were shouting.
They recognized him as an officer—young, tall, commanding—and were crazed with the urge to kill him.
Though skilled in close combat, Ernest couldn't withstand overwhelming numbers.
"Raaah!"
Seeing Ernest staggering back, Ralf charged in screaming.
Ernest twisted and lunged forward at an angle.
Thud! Slash!
Ralf tackled three enemy soldiers to the ground.
Stab! Stab! Stab!
Ernest stabbed another enemy with his bayonet, dropped his rifle, drew his dagger, and finished off the ones Ralf had wrestled down.
Ralf, too, was stabbing anything within reach with his dagger.
"Enough! Get up! Now!"
"Hah... hah…"
Ernest, seeing the enemies disabled, yanked Ralf back.
Ralf rolled away, sprang up, grabbed a fallen rifle, and quickly loaded it with mud-covered hands.
Bang!
With no time to retrieve his bayonet-stuck rifle, Ernest was down to a dagger.
Luckily, Ralf's shot gave him just enough cover to grab another gun and fall back.
"You bastard, Kol! What are you doing?!"
"I am doing it!"
Ralf cursed, Kol shouted back.
Despite the chaos, Kol and the 2nd Squad were doing their best—firing on both the charging soldiers and the one hidden rifleman picking them off.
But their numbers had dwindled to half.
They couldn't sustain their firepower.
Fizzle...
"Damn it!"
Ernest's rifle was red-hot and nearly unusable from continuous firing.
Even touching it hurt.
On top of that, the battery was dead.
"2nd Squad, charge!"
"Waaahhh!"
Kol ordered a bayonet charge.
If they didn't, the 1st Squad would be wiped out, and then everyone else would follow.
Only three of the 1st Squad survived, including Ralf.
Add Ernest, and that made four.
"Shoot! Reload and shoot!"
Ernest yelled while retreating in place of the 2nd Squad.
The three remaining from the 1st Squad shakily pulled back and started reloading.
"Above!"
Even in the chaos, Ernest kept a wide field of vision.
He spotted a Bellian soldier aiming from atop the earthen wall and shot him instantly.
Bang!
The bullet struck the enemy in the chest.
They'd used all their meat shields—now the real gunmen were here.
Click! Click!
"Damn it!"
Ernest tried firing again but the gun Ralf had used was out of juice.
He quickly replaced the battery and fired again.
Now, the 2nd Squad was down to three men.
The 1st Squad was reduced to two, including Ralf.
The 3rd Squad had casualties too—it was chaos.
"Kill those bastards!"
The shout, rough and hoarse, sounded like a chorus of angels.
Unless you'd been there, you couldn't understand.
Right after Yuergen's shout rang out, lightning and thunder crashed behind them.
Balt bullets rained down and tore into the Bellian soldiers trying to breach the trench.
"Hertz!"
BOOM!
"Aaaargh!"
A brilliant Balt flash swept through the enemies.
A massive burst of Balt kinetic force knocked them flat.
Whoosh!
Then came the wind.
With a mighty Balt gust at their backs, the 2nd Company surged forward, reclaimed the trench, and opened fire on the fleeing enemies.
The Bellians, overwhelmed by wind and rain, couldn't even open their eyes.
They fell curled up, trampled, or shot while trying to flee.
"You're late…!"
Though saved by the support, Ernest was furious at Yuergen for being late.
He turned to yell—only to pause when he saw Hertz glowing with blue Balt light, surrounded protectively by Robert's 3rd Platoon in a defensive ring.
Ernest scanned the area.
Suddenly, the battlefield's atmosphere changed.
Bang!
The moment Ernest saw a blue glow between the trees, he fired without hesitation.
No time to warn anyone.
"There! Protect Hertz!"
"Ghh!"
Yuergen reacted instantly, pointing toward a figure darting through the forest.
3rd Platoon took aim.
Hertz unleashed his power in defense.
A Baltracher.
The blue-glowing Bellian Baltracher darted through the trees, manipulating Balt wind for speed, levitating with kinetic force, dancing on protective shields.
Blue flashes streaked the forest like ghostly tails.
The figure moved erratically, dodging bullets and diving straight into the trench.
Hertz raised a shield—just in time.
The enemy Baltracher accelerated like a missile, aiming his sharp shield-tipped body like a spear.
Crack!
Hertz's shield only held for a second.
Bellian Baltrachers were trained as assassins, unlike the Empire's support-focused ones.
This kind of focused power was inefficient in large battles—but devastating one-on-one.
Bang!
As the enemy aimed his pistol at Hertz, Ernest shot his side.
The bullet pierced the weakened shield but failed to do real damage—hitting only armor.
Still, the hit disrupted the enemy's aim.
Bang!
Both fired.
Hertz's shot was blocked.
The Bellian's bullet hit Hertz in the shoulder.
Had Ernest not fired, the enemy would've hit his chest.
It saved Hertz's life.
But wounded, Hertz's concentration slipped.
His Balt mist faded.
BOOM!
Just before the Bellian Baltracher could finish Hertz off, another blast of kinetic force struck him hard, sending him flying.
"Aaagh!"
All this happened in under two seconds.
The shockwave scattered the rain into mist, throwing 3rd Platoon off balance.
"You're late!"
"Barely made it!"
Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Hertz shouted.
Another Empire Baltracher stood on the trench's remains, screaming back.
3rd Company had arrived.
With two Empire Baltrachers now facing him, the enemy was no longer a threat.
Ernest realized why Yuergen was late—he'd waited for this support.
If they'd rushed in earlier, the Bellian Baltracher might have killed Hertz and destroyed them all.
Though ineffective in large battles, such Baltrachers were monsters in close quarters.
Yuergen had anticipated the enemy wouldn't act right away and gambled on 2nd Platoon holding out.
Whether it was throwing them away or trusting them depended on your view.
But they held the trench—barely.
70% casualties.
Effectively annihilated.
"Ernest! Ernest! You okay?!"
"Damn it… yeah."
Robert rushed to support Ernest, helping him to his feet. As a platoon leader, it was inappropriate—but as a friend, he was perfect.
Ernest realized he'd survived.
Meanwhile, Benzen's 1st Platoon took over the trench.
The exhausted 2nd Platoon pulled back to Ernest's position.
The Bellian Baltracher, recovering from the kinetic blast, looked back at the 2nd and 3rd Companies, then turned and fled south.
Probably a breach in the southern front—he was headed back.
"Serves you right, bastard."
Yuergen spat at the fleeing Baltracher.
He wouldn't escape.
The front was likely recovered.
He'd be captured or die.
2nd Company stayed to defend; 3rd Company pursued the enemy into the woods.
"Report your numbers!"
The battle was over.
Ernest tried to assess his platoon.
There wasn't much to report—almost no one was left.
Ernest, Gustav, and the three squad leaders survived.
Of the regular soldiers, only six could still fight.
Ralf and two others from 1st Squad, both seriously wounded.
From 2nd Squad: Kol and two lightly injured, one seriously.
From 3rd Squad: Sven, three able-bodied, one injured.
Ralf and Kol were covered in cuts.
The seriously wounded would die without immediate treatment.
"They need evacuation."
"We don't have the luxury. They'll die en route."
Ernest wanted to send them back, but Yuergen was right.
"Damn rain…"
Yuergen set up a tarp to move the wounded. Experienced NCOs like Gustav began treating them. But it was primitive—clean, stop the bleeding, stitch it closed.
"You know how to treat wounds?"
"Yes."
Ernest helped.
Haires had taught him well.
He stuffed wounds with cloth, sliced skin, scraped bone, even used salted knives—all to give them a better chance.
He'd cried and puked when learning it as a child.
But now, it allowed him to stay calm.
"We've done all we can. Now we just pray."
"What about evacuation?"
"Not won't do it—can't."
Yuergen shook his head.
"Even if we've held them off, we don't know where the enemy is. Can't send a lone platoon out. And we can't abandon this trench. If we ask for help, they'll ignore us—we're still on the offensive."
It was true. Ernest knew it too.
"Another company will come around evening. We'll rotate then."
Yuergen patted Ernest's shoulder.
"Good work. Rest with your men."
"…Yes."
Too exhausted for manners, Ernest sat with his survivors, watching their fallen comrades being stacked, enemies dumped outside.
The rest of the day passed quietly.
Of the three seriously wounded, one died soon after, another en route, the last before dawn.
The division's only healing Balt practitioner treated only Hertz—then left without a word.
The next morning, Ernest's 2nd Platoon was filled again—35 soldiers total.
"They're giving us a day off. Though really, I think it's just so they can brag about 'the heroic Ernest Krieger's valiant stand.'"
Yuergen brought the news.
Ernest's platoon had killed over 100 enemies—many unarmed, but still an incredible feat.
The infiltrating Bellian unit had been battalion-sized.
3rd Company killed 150 during the pursuit and took down the Baltracher.
Allied losses were under 40 total for both 2nd and 3rd Companies—a stunning victory.
The defense of the trench had made it possible.
Without that reinforced wall, the 2nd Platoon would've been wiped out.
Ernest too would've died—and become just another name, recorded by someone else.
They'd been given a day of rest.
But Ernest felt no joy.
He would be back in that forest tomorrow, fighting again.
Now, more than ever, it was clear.
This wasn't a dream.
This was reality.
And hell was not far away.
Hell was here.
This was it.