Harald prowls the battle field, the further he goes, he feels like there is lead in his boots. The more he wields his axe, he feels like his muscles and bones are tearing apart. The longer he opens his eyes, he feels his eye socket turning painful and his vision turning blurry as a mixture between gruesome blood and bitter sweat flows into it. He tried to convince himself to go further, but his body objects its master's idea. He needs to rest, he wants to sleep, in the centre of the warzone uninterrupted.
However, there is one thing that Harald's blurred pairs of eyes cannot observe. Apparently his current image struck so much fear into the eyes of the Ottomans around him that their legs started shaking, and their arms holding their Kilij shivering not daring to confront and look at Harald in his eyes directly, but their rank and honour of Janissary forces them to stay rooted there and face this menace, unlike those ordinary Yaya levies who can just spring their legs and run away.
The Janissaries in the surrounding started calling Harald by the nickname of 'Ubr', a mythological vampire in far ancient Tartar folklores that has a thirst of blood, related with the elements of death it sends the motion of fear down the spines of many Janissaries as they recall hearing the story of Ubr from their Ottoman wards when they were young.
However, Harald is no vampire, he is a human, and being a human means having limits. The same goes for his fellow Varangians and sailors. Each meter they push, each step they march, there will be some pal falling on the ground with his body covered in cuts and slits, while the rest continue marching and pushing waiting for their turn to be next.
While the Yaya infantries who are falling back continuously just now escaping the blade and axes of Harald suddenly stopped, stood firm and created another disorganised but yet effective line of defence deterring the wave of attack by Harald. Not because they suddenly found their wits and came back to sacrifice for their Sultan whom they probably have not see his face for their entire life, but because of a chain of heads hanging behind them, all by the tradition of Ottoman general beheading those who tried to run away from their sacred duty.
The advancing speed of Varangians decreased drastically.
Antonius frowns as he stays at the back supervising the attack, he too noticed the current state of the Varangians. He knows that his tatic is to fully deplete the strength and fighting capabilities of his Varangians to keep on assaulting the Ottomans relentlessly, which can be very dangerous if his Varangians loss its capabilities as they have advanced way too far inwards exposing their vulnerable flanks, the Ottoman commander can simply slaughter the Illy defended Varangians and sailors inside and create a break through point here, by then the city shall be devoured by the never ending wave of Ottoman invaders. Although Antonius can still take the chance to rush to the port and run away from this place back to the Mediterranean and continue his life as a pirate there.
But can he do that?
Antonius looks in front, where his men are clustered together with the Ottomans exchanging slashes with one another, the scene of men dropping down and sound of men wiping, crying fills echoes across the vast atmosphere. Antonius looks to his side, one after another injured Roman soldier is dragged to the back by the citizens of Constantinople who put their lives under the mercy of Satan's scythe rushing into the no man's land. Antonius looks to his back, where all the clergies and nuns belonging to the city are still there despite countless warnings and advices, just to pull soldiers back from the death toll. While further behind, Antonius knows that there are women, children and elderlies eyeing for their brothers, husband, father and son to return back to their arms.
Antonius shook his head as he chases away all these messy thoughts from his head and focus back onto the battle field. But just as he stares at the arena dyed in the colour of bloody red filled with broken limbs and bodies of both sides, a thought suddenly came to his head out of no where.
Sometimes, somewhere, when something tragic happens, and he is in the position to stop it from happening, then he must strive for the best result, as he is no longer a lone pirate sailing the ancient seas caring no less for others. Now, he has a friend who has his back on him, a friend awaiting to be rescued, and an enemy to repel.
With that in mind, Antonius paced himself forward.
The fifty sailors behind him hastily followed behind carrying all the banners and flag along.
"Echo after me!" Suddenly, Antonius drew out his blade, pointing it forward and shouted his first order since he came into the war zone. "The admiral of Rome advanced forward by twenty meters!"
The sailors around Antonius followed. "The admiral of Rome advanced forward by twenty meters!"
The Roman soldiers behind the frontline, the casualties, and the civilians around got their attention to the centre of the voice and soon followed. "The admiral of Rome advanced forward by twenty meters!"
Now the words became loud enough for even the soldiers and generals on all fronts to hear. Shocked at first but soon motivated, they also quickly joined in the massive echoing session. "The admiral of Rome advanced forward by twenty meters!"
Harald, Yuri and their Varangians woke up hearing the words, once again they started wielding their battle axes and swords enduring the pain and soreness of their muscles, biting their teeth and re-activating their push forward despite already suffering heavy losses.
Antonius walks past a varangian who is having his last breathe suffering from a severe cut on his abdomen with all his intestines flowing out. The varangian tries to salute Antonius but the later continued walking forward.
"Echo after me!"
"The admiral of the Romans advanced forward by fifty meters!"