Chapter 46 – The Battle of the Eisenwald Marsh
The morning air was still cold as a thin mist clung low over the marshes. Fenrir stood tall atop a mound of earth, his light steel-and-leather armor glimmering faintly under the pale sunlight. His aura—deep crimson like molten lava—burned visibly in the damp air. Behind him, 1,500 Eisenwald soldiers waited in tense silence, their breaths steaming like smoke.
From the distance came the pounding of war drums and the blare of trumpets. Baron Heinrich von Falkenrath had arrived—3,200 men, twice Fenrir's number. The sight of their banners whipping in the wind and their disciplined ranks was enough to make most men tremble, yet Fenrir's expression remained calm, his crimson eyes glowing with unwavering resolve.
---
Army Composition
Eisenwald (Fenrir – 1,500 troops)
500 Marsh Veterans (spearmen & shield-bearers)
Core infantry, seasoned in swamp combat, forming the spear wall.
700 Militia & Trained Farmers (archers & light spearmen)
Provide ranged volleys and close support to fill gaps.
300 Light Cavalry
Split on both flanks, meant to harass and counter-attack.
Formation:
Center → 500 Marsh Veterans
Rear Center → 700 Militia/Archers
Right & Left Flanks → 150 Light Cavalry each
Fenrir → Positioned just behind the center, to command and intervene.
Falkenrath (Heinrich – 3,200 troops)
1,800 Heavy Infantry (phalanx)
Shields and long spears, tightly packed for brutal pushes.
500 Archers
Positioned at the rear for heavy arrow fire.
900 Heavy Cavalry
Concentrated on the left flank, their armored charge aimed at crushing Fenrir's right.
Formation:
Center → 1,800 Heavy Infantry
Rear → 500 Archers
Left Flank → 900 Heavy Cavalry (personally led by Heinrich)
Right Flank → minimal guard, relying on the marsh terrain.
---
"Forward!" cried a Falkenrath officer.
The ground shook as the phalanx advanced, shields raised, spears thrust forward like a forest of steel. The mud slowed them, but their momentum was overwhelming.
Fenrir raised his sword, his aura glowing along the blade's edge.
"Spears, hold the wall! Archers, ready!"
"Yes, my lord!"
Seven hundred archers drew their bows in unison, bowstrings taut like a swarm of buzzing insects. Fenrir dropped his hand.
"Loose!"
A storm of arrows hissed through the mist, slicing the morning air. The front ranks of the phalanx lifted their great shields, absorbing much of the impact. Some stumbled, a few fell, but the iron wall pressed forward.
Fenrir narrowed his eyes. Heavy infantry… strong, but slow. The swamp will drain their stamina. We just need to hold long enough for them to tire.
---
"Brace! Push with your spears!" Fenrir barked.
The 500 marsh veterans leveled their spears, shields locked tight, forming an unyielding wall. At ten meters, the earth thundered as the two human walls collided.
CRASH!!!
The clash of steel against steel roared across the battlefield. Spears stabbed through gaps, shields smashed into faces, boots slipped in mud. Men screamed, blood splattered, and weapons sank into the muck alongside bodies.
"Hold! Don't give an inch!" Fenrir's voice pierced the chaos, his crimson aura surging outward in waves, invigorating his men. The spear wall, close to breaking, steadied and drove forward, piercing through enemy shields.
The swamp became a slaughter ground, both sides locked in brutal struggle.
---
At the rear, Falkenrath's 500 archers loosed their shafts. Iron-tipped arrows whistled through the mist, heavier and deadlier than Eisenwald's. Several militia collapsed, screaming as the missiles tore into them.
"Shields up! Protect the front!"
The marsh veterans raised their shields overhead, forming a crude tortoise. Eisenwald's archers fired back, weaker but more numerous, felling scattered foes.
Above the marshland, the air became a storm of iron rain.
---
On the left flank, the thunder of hooves shook the swamp. Nine hundred heavy cavalry surged forward, armored horses snorting, lances leveled at Eisenwald's right wing.
Baron Heinrich rode at their head, his black aura billowing like smoke.
"Crush their flank! Tear out their heart!"
"Right cavalry, intercept!" Fenrir commanded.
One hundred and fifty light horsemen spurred forward—far fewer in number, their armor thin, their mounts unarmored. They knew they could not hope to match Heinrich's knights head-on.
Fenrir clenched his jaw. A direct clash is suicide. Break their momentum… strike the formation, not the men.
As the heavy knights thundered near, Eisenwald's riders veered sharply. Their spears stabbed at horse legs, javelins flew at their sides. Several knights toppled as mounts screamed and crashed into the mud, fracturing the charge.
Though many light cavalrymen were crushed in the wreckage, the marsh slowed the rest, sapping the impact of their deadly advance.
---
Fenrir's gaze sharpened. Their core is strong but sluggish. Their left flank is the hammer. Their right flank… left exposed, relying on the marsh.
He recalled one of the Thirty-Six Stratagems: "Lure the tiger from the mountain." Draw the enemy out of strength, into weakness.
"Militia line—feign retreat! Make them think we're broken!"
The 700 militiamen fell back in disarray, scattering just enough to appear genuine. From afar, Eisenwald's line looked shattered.
"They're breaking! Press harder!" Falkenrath officers roared. Heavy infantry bellowed as they charged deeper into the marsh.
Fenrir's lips curved into a cold smile. Yes. Come deeper. Every step drains you.
---
The marsh veterans ground their teeth, shields locked as the enemy slammed into them. The line swayed, mud splattering as men slipped and sank beneath.
Fenrir raised his sword, his crimson aura blazing hotter, like molten fire.
"This is our land! Drain them dry! Eisenwald—fight!"
His aura surged like a rising tide, bolstering his weary soldiers. The veterans roared, driving their spears with renewed fury.
The battle raged fiercer—spear against spear, shield against shield, steel against flesh.
---
On the flank, the heavy cavalry bogged down further, horses sinking into mud. Heinrich surged at the forefront, his greatsword glowing with oppressive black aura.
"Fenrir of Eisenwald… how dare a petty baron defy me?" His voice boomed like thunder.
Fenrir's deep red aura exploded skyward, tendrils of molten energy writhing around him. He spurred his horse forward, cleaving through the enemy's side. His men instinctively parted before him.
"Today, history will remember who commands these marshes, Heinrich." Fenrir leveled his blade.
The two auras—black smoke and crimson lava—clashed in the air, forcing soldiers on both sides to recoil in fear.
The true battle was about to begin.
---
Status Panel – End of Chapter 46
[Fenrir Eisenwald]
Age: 17
Level: 13
EXP: 18,600 / 20,000
Aura: 130
Vitality: 160
Strength: 100
Cunning: 175
Charisma: 110
Mental Fortitude: 140
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.3] – Stable aura manipulation.
[Swordsmanship Lv.3] – Adaptive blade techniques.
[Leadership Lv.4] – +20% troop morale boost.
[Tactical Instinct Lv.3] – Rapid battlefield adaptation.
Traits:
[Scars that Forge] – War trauma strengthens the mind.
[Lord of the Marsh] – +25% Cunning, +15% Strength in swamp battles.
---
[Baron Heinrich von Falkenrath]
Age: 44
Level: 18
EXP: 39,200 / 40,000
Aura: 165
Vitality: 180
Strength: 155
Cunning: 95
Charisma: 88
Mental Fortitude: 125
Skills:
[Aura Control Lv.4] – Fearsome aura suppression.
[Greatsword Mastery Lv.4] – Lethal heavy strikes.
[Battlefield Intimidation Lv.3] – Reduces enemy morale within 30m.
Traits:
[Butcher of the North] – +15% Strength when morale is high.
---
#wanD48