Chapter 19: The Harlin Meat Grinder, A Meteor Falls from the Sky
Niparmo urgently submitted a request to the Kingdom’s rear for the transfer of a batch of magic crystal cannons to the front line.
He needed this heavy weapon to break the stalemate between both sides.
This world did have magic crystal cannons forged through magical alchemy, but aside from their similar outward appearance, magic crystal cannons and ordinary cannons were completely different.
The Astal Territory itself already had two of these.
Unlike Mitia’s cannons, the magic crystal cannon had countless magic arrays inscribed within its barrel.
Once charged with magic crystals, it would fire a concentrated beam of energy.
This was a completely different concept from cannons.
But there was one thing they shared in common: they were equally cumbersome.
Thus, Niparmo’s application to Ovinia was directly rejected by Ovinia III.
The distance was far too great; transporting such massive machines was simply unrealistic.
However, Ovinia III also understood Niparmo’s predicament from his report and promised to transfer half of the Royal Capital’s Royal Mage Corps to support him.
They would set out soon.
Upon receiving the reply, Niparmo knew that for the time being he could only rely on himself on the battlefield.
He gritted his teeth and adjusted his battle plans—pulling back his remaining elite soldiers and pushing the auxiliary troops onto the front line.
Niparmo intended to use the more than one hundred thousand auxiliary troops, originally for logistics, as cannon fodder.
He would have them throw their lives away on the Harlin defense line to open a breakthrough for him.
This method was cruel, but it was effective.
Although the auxiliary troops were numerous, calling them soldiers was a stretch.
In truth, they were just poor civilians and slaves conscripted to transport supplies to the battlefield.
They were given no weapons, not a single piece of armor, and even had to bring their own rations.
Niparmo did not care if they all died.
More poor civilians and slaves could always be drafted from the rear when supplies were transported.
When Mitia saw this group of thinly dressed, unarmed commoners being driven into a death charge toward the defensive line the next day, her heart skipped a beat.
Standing beside her, staff officer Frick also witnessed the scene and sneered coldly: “As expected of Prince Niparmo, this trick is truly despicable.”
Anna asked, “Do we have enough ammunition reserves?”
Frick shook his head.
“Even at the previous intensity we were barely holding on.
At this rate, it definitely won’t be enough.
Their numbers are simply too many.”
Mitia was not surprised by this answer.
Even slaughtering over a hundred thousand pigs standing still would require more than a hundred thousand bullets, let alone real people who could run and hide.
Moreover, Niparmo was not sending them all to die at once.
Every so often he pushed out one or two thousand-man units to scatter charge.
From time to time, he organized attacks of ten thousand, led by a few elite soldiers.
On such a vast battlefield, firing at these scattered targets, the consumption of bullets grew exponentially.
At the current rate of Astal’s magic crystal mining, they could not keep up with this kind of expenditure.
More importantly, Ovinia’s elite corps continued to lurk at the rear, watching hungrily, resting and ready to strike at any time.
This constant threat created enormous psychological pressure on the Astal Territory.
Occasionally, forward positions would be taken by Ovinia, only to be recaptured after bitter fighting.
In such skirmishes, Mitia’s army suffered.
Most of her soldiers were ordinary men.
Once Ovinia’s elite soldiers closed in, two or three working together could easily wipe out one of her entire companies.
It had to be admitted—though the piecemeal assault tactic was old-fashioned, in skilled hands it was frighteningly effective.
Among Ovinia’s auxiliaries there had been outbreaks of rebellion, but Niparmo crushed them all without hesitation.
By wartime law, if a soldier deserted, his entire family would bear the guilt.
All of them would be stripped of citizenship and become slaves.
The men would be sent to the mines or used as cannon fodder on the battlefield.
The women naturally would be made into official prostitutes.
Their families would be doomed for generations.
Even if someone truly risked their life to resist, Niparmo’s heavy cavalry underlings, who could not always kill enemy soldiers, were more than capable of slaughtering these unarmed commoners.
And so, day after day, the bloody tug-of-war dragged on.
In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.
The Harlin defense line had become a meat grinder in the truest sense.
Astal’s First Division was battered and withdrawn to the rear for rest, while the newly assembled Second and Third Divisions took over the line.
The number of defenders had doubled, yet the pressure had not eased in the slightest, because Niparmo was gradually pushing forward his elite forces as well.
Meanwhile, of the six heavy cannons, after prolonged and intense use, four were no longer operational, and the remaining two had reduced their rate of fire.
Their rifled barrels had been worn smooth and needed replacement, a problem that could not be solved in the short term.
Each day, thousands upon thousands of rifles at the front were ruined and required new barrels, not to mention the massive need for replacement ammunition.
Every factory in the territory was running at full capacity, and even so, resources were only barely enough to sustain the terrifying consumption of the front line.
And yet, to push the Astal Territory to this point, Niparmo’s army had also paid an extremely heavy price.
Over a hundred thousand auxiliaries had filled Harlin’s trenches and barbed wire, nearly wiped out completely.
Of the one hundred thousand regular troops Niparmo had brought, barely fifty thousand remained—over half lost.
But Niparmo’s face was all smiles, because the second batch of supply auxiliaries had now arrived, along with the Royal Mage Corps.
“Lord Pue, the outcome of this battle rests upon you!”
Niparmo bowed deeply to the middle-aged man at the head of the mage corps and spoke solemnly.
Pue hurriedly lifted him up.
“Your Highness, you speak too highly of me.
As a noble of the Kingdom, I will of course give my all.
Everything is for the Kingdom.”
Niparmo smiled and nodded, then began to discuss his planned operation with him.
Pue Lalor.
He was the elder brother of Queen Consort Lalor.
His family had intermarried with the royal family for generations.
They commanded the mage corps guarding the Royal Capital, the most loyal protectors of the royal house—true insiders.
—Deep night—
Mitia put down her pen and stretched lazily, leaning back in her chair.
“Anna, what time is it now?” she asked languidly.
Anna stepped forward and supported Mitia’s head, gently massaging her temples.
“Milady, it is a quarter past three. You need to rest.”
Mitia closed her eyes for a moment of respite and murmured, “Three o’clock... At this hour, ordinary people would be sleeping most deeply, right?”
Anna, quick to understand her intent, immediately replied, “The soldiers at the front have just completed their rotations. There will be no problem.”
“Let us hope so.”
Before the words faded, Mitia’s eyes snapped open.
The next instant, she vanished from Anna’s sight and reappeared in the air.
She looked up.
Far above Har Town, in the distant sky, a dozen or so lights appeared.
Many of the night watch soldiers also noticed the anomaly overhead:
“Hey! Look at the sky! What is that?”
“Must be a meteor. Nothing strange.”
“...No, wait. Don’t they look brighter than before?”
“They’re not just brighter... They’re getting closer! They’re coming straight for us!!!”