Chapter 23 First Battle

Bartrem opened the door to the barrack. "Square up!"

The soldiers get out of their bed and quickly don their armor before lining up. Bartrem noticed some sluggishness in their movement. "What's wrong with you, soldier?"

He noticed black bags under their eyes. "For the hair of my armpit. I told you to sleep properly yesterday. Go now! Wash your face and gather at the field!"

"Yes, sir!"

The soldiers exited the door with a jog. Bartrem turned his eyes and looked at Aldred about to leave the barrack. "Except you, boy. You seem to have a good sleep."

Aldred nodded. "I sleep well last night."

Bartrem set his gaze on Mary. She wasn't supposed to be here, but he did not say anything. Maybe she wanted to take care of the child for a while. But eventually, the boy had to grow up.

"A little briefing for you, boy. Since you're a magician, just stay at the back of the formation and cast your spells. What spells do you know?"

"I can cast fireball and flame jet."

"Simple but effect." Bartrem nodded. "You stay at the back and cast fireballs at the enemy. We will do the rest."

Aldred nodded. He believed he was good enough for close combat with flame jet, but he did not want to question his leader on the first day.

"Go to the south gate and wait for me there. I will give your fellow comrade some scoldings. They should have shown a proper example of a soldier."

Aldred nodded, said his goodbye to Mary, and jogged his way there. On the way, he passed by many soldiers with light armor. They jogged with their own platoon. Swords dangled on their waist, jiggling every time their feet hit the ground. Most of the building here was for housing, storage, armory, and restroom. There were no merchants, or markets here. This entire city was a complete fort.

Also, Aldred realized that he forgot something in his inventory.

[Godly Eye Tear]

Consuming it will allow you to see the weakness of your enemy, predicting their movement, calculating the trajectory of moving object, knowing their strength, their talent, and determine the quality of an object. Lastly it can let you see through things.

Aldred pulled out the item from his inventory and consumed it. As he jogged to the south gate, his eyes glowed momentarily. It was only for a moment, and no one noticed anything weird. The soldiers were too busy doing their own stuff.

After a few seconds of adjustment, Aldred could see through the armor of every soldiers that passed him. He knew their weak spots indicated by red dots on their body. He could also know why those spots were weak. Some of them because of genetics, some of them because of wound.

A bunch of women passed through and he could see what they wore underneath their tight armor.

'Pink panties, yellow bra. Hmm there are varieties of colors, shapes, and sizes. Most of them are G cup thankfully."

It seemed women warrior always had big chest. Maybe the weight of their breast would help them fight.

Aldred arrived at the southroad. A lot of soldiers ran and entered into a square formation as their leaders shouted at them. Their armors rattled. Not only warriors, magician also came running. They scattered to different platoon. They stayed mostly in the middle or at the back of the formation. Magician were vulnerable in close-range battle, but give them time and range, then they would be a force to be reckoned with.

A few minutes later, the Pressure Platoon II sprinted towards the road. Bartrem shouted for Aldred to come to them. He did. They rounded a large square formation and stayed at the front. Bartrem said that their place were in the front of the formation. Their task was to cripple the enemy to let the soldiers on the back deal the killing blow.

That was a very risky place to be. It was like being the tip of a needle, after an injection, the tip would be broken or bent.

Bartrem succeeded in saving his men a lot of times, according to the history given by the system. That meant he wasn't just a normal knight, but a very talented one. In a war, it was hard not to lose a comrade or two, especially in a medieval war where men went face to face against each other.

Aldred scanned his comrades with his eyes. None of them had any glaring weakness on their body.

He wondered how was that even possible. As someone who were put in the front of the formation, they should be the one who suffer the most.

Someone rode a horse to the front of the formation. It was a man with a yellow-spiked hair. He strictly faced the army and inspected them one by one.

He was the High-Knight that will lead this operation. The goal was simple. Attack and destroy the outpost. Now the problem lay in the execution.

"All of you fight well and you will survive, Jataboyo."

'What?' Aldred thought. He felt like he had heard that style of speaking before.

The yellow-hair High-Knight gave them a few minutes long speech, with each sentence ending in Jataboyo.

Eventually, the speech ended.

"March forward, Jataboyo!"

The army consisted of two hundred fifty knights marched forward. All these knights brought a bunch of squires with them. A knight at maximum could bring fifty squires, but not all knight could be allocated with such number of squires. Usually, only the most important platoon will have a high number of squires.

The Pressure Platoon II was one of those important platoon. With fifty squires leading the charge, the formation was like the shaft of the spear that drive the tip forward onto the enemy line. Aldred was nervous within each second of the march.

This was the first time he went to war. A literal war where thousands of men will clash swords against each other. This wasn't a solo type dungeon. He'd expect chaotic battle.

Aldred looked around. Everyone was calm like they'd done it for a hundred time. It was weird for him to see the nonchalant expression on their face. They might die. Weren't they afraid of that possibility?

He turned around. A man he did not know stared at him. He had a slash mark of a sword on his mouth. It was a ragged line started from the chin to below the nose.

The man needed great luck to survive that. But Aldred did not understand why the man kept staring. Maybe because he was a ten-year-old? The man pitied a child like him had to go to war? That was probably the case.

The army marched alongside the river. Fish jumped out occasionally. The soldiers nearby started erecting their flag. The flag was an image of four pointed star, and the background was split between red and white. That was the flag of the Ceraisian Empire.

They raised it up high, and it made the marching even more grander.

After a few hours, Aldred saw an army ahead of them. He guessed the numbers were the same. They also raised a flag with a blue cross and white background.

Each army halted their steps a few hundred meter from each other.

Aldred felt his heart beating hard. He couldn't believe that he would go to war. Not to mention a fantasy war where magic and super power exist. He was excited and nervous at the same time.

The yellow, spiky hair High-Knight rode his horse forward. Another man with a horse on the other side also rode forward.

The man had black eyes, black spiky hair that was long enough to hang over over his face.

"What are they doing?" Aldred asked.

"The usual," one of the soldier replied.

The yellow haired guy frowned and pointed. "Everyone is worried about you, Jasuce. Come back to the village."

"Humph. An orphan like you know nothing."

The yellow haired guy gritted his teeth in anger. "Everyone wants you to come back. So stop bitching around because you lost a brother."

"Fuck you! My brother kill all of my clan member!"

"I don't have a clan, and do you see me bitching about it?"

"You know nothing, Jabuto!"

"It's you who know nothing, Jasuce!"

"He took everything from me. Including my parents."

"Fuck that! I never see my parents and they put a fucking cat inside my stomach. Your parents just got killed and you ran away like a little bitch!"

Jasuce stared at him with anger.

"Fuck you Jabuto!"

"Fuck you Jasuce!"

Both of them charged towards each other. They raised their hand. The yellow haired guy had an spinning orb in his hand. While the other guy had lightning.

"Fuck you Jabuto!"

Fuck you Jasuce!"

BOOM!

Their power clashed and exploded. Dust and dirt covered the battlefield.

"That's our signal! Attack!"

"HAA!"

"HAA!"

"HAA!"

The army charged forward with a resounding roar. The armor clanged against each other. The soldiers brandished their sword and erratically run forward. It was as chaotic as he imagined it would be. Aldred was constantly bumped around by solders. It was lucky enough that he wasn't being stomped.

The Pressure Platoon II rushed forward with conviction. Bartrem at the front, leading the charge with valor. They moved into a V position that pointed towards the enemy. When their formation clashed against the enemy, it was like finger through water.

Bartrem easily cut down anyone in his path without slowing down his speed. The soldiers behind him slashed their sword to the side, cutting off their arms and heads. Blood spurted on his face.

Aldred was shocked. He did not realize that war could be so gory. He stared at the falling head that rolled on the ground. It looked at him with lifeless eyes.

"Hii!" Aldred stepped back.

"Aldred!" Bartrem shouted as he cut down a head. "You're a soldier now! Act like one!"

Bartrem knew the boy was just ten-year-old, but he had to say what must be said. It was pitiful the boy couldn't grow first before he was put into the battlefield. It made him recall the first time he was in a battle.

Aldred looked at this platoon fighting and all the other soldiers that fought against each other. Bartrem was right. He was a soldier now. Even though he had the body of a ten-year-old, he was twenty in soul and mind.

Come on Aldred. Remember those days fighting against those bum that tried to steal your food. Remember that feeling!

He opened his eyes and stared viciously. To not be scared you had to be pretend to be brave. Aldred was scared out of his wits, but he needed to be strong.

"Rise, my slave!"

Fourteen blob of mist appeared from the ground. The ogres and the wolf stepped out. They looked at him, waiting for his command.

Aldred pointed at Bartrem. "Help them!"

The wolves sprinted forward while the ogres thumped their way there.

The enemy soldiers were shocked to see wolves and ogres on the battlefield. Some of the allied soldiers were shocked too, but they realized the undeads were allies.

The wolves pounced on the soldiers, making him fall. Bartrem stabbed the man's chest. The ogres slammed the helmet of the enemy. The man's sight turned dizzy. Before he could turned sober, a soldier from Pressure Platoon II stabbed the man's throat.

This scene kept on repeating itself over and over again.

Pressure Platoon II kept on pushing through the left wings. Their plan was to penetrate the wing and then went around it to attack the middle from behind. Pressure Platoon II was only tasked to penetrate the first layer, and they almost succeed.

Until Pressure Platoon I rushed in too early, they bashed the soldiers of Pressure Platoon II making them fall to the ground.

Bartrem realized this and turned around to save his comrade. "Simond, you motherfucker!"

Aldred realized that was the guy who had stared at him earlier. So it was not pity, but resentment that he feel. Even within the battlefield these guys still had the time to fight with each other?

With the help of his undead, and Bartrem powerful strength, they succeeded in saving all of Pressure Platoon II member.

"Our job here is done. Retreat!" Bartrem shouted.

His men jogged away, first. Only when they were a few meters away did Bartrem started retreating. Pressure Platoon I continued on pushing the left wing.

Aldred did not care about that anymore and followed Bartrem.

Bartrem brought them near the archer formation. The archer kept on firing arrows at the sky, and raining them down upon the enemy.

The soldiers were exhausted from that short fight. It might not look like much, but their armor and swords were quite heavy. Not to mention they had to used all their strength in every swing to penetrate the armor of the enemy.

And because of Pressure Platoon I disrupted their rhythm and even pushed them to the ground. Some of the soldiers were terribly wounded.

Joseph had a large sword wound on his shoulder.

"Can you hold it, soldier?" Bartrem asked.

Joseph nodded with a painful expression.

Aldred frowned. That was really weird. The other platoon were treated by a healer immediately, but why no one came to treat this platoon?

Bartrem noticed his expression. "You know why we are known to be the most deadliest platoon, boy? It's not because we are deadly to the enemy, it's because anyone who join this platoon would surely die."

Aldred understood the situation. Captain Pharder must have told the healer not to heal them, after all, Pharder did not seem to like Mary and Bartrem. Well, the real reason was because they were affiliated with the empress.

He sighed. As long as he stay in this place, everyone around them would bully them because of Pharder. Looked like he would be in a tough ride from now on.