Chapter 9: The Dead Partner

Although they had maintained six days of high-speed marching, many soldiers in the other squads were already exhausted, and even some veterans had lost their cocky spirit. But for us, who had been tempered by Carlson’s hellish long-distance running, it was easy. When Rama said to us while eating dinner, “I just got warmed up, and now we’re resting,” the soldiers collapsed around us glared at him with deep resentment, as if they were all thinking about finding a chance to take apart this chubby guy who could walk so well and see what kind of extraordinary structure was inside his body.

Fred was still studying the enemy intelligence that kept coming in: according to the current information, the Winston Army that had penetrated deep into the territory was moving at an incredible speed. Today they attacked a castle in the east, tomorrow they appeared in a western village to seize grain. Although their numbers were small and they couldn’t deal a fatal blow to the overall situation, they sowed seeds of panic in people’s hearts. For a time, it seemed that Winston iron cavalry were roaming all over the northern highlands of Delanmaya. No one knew how many of them had come, and no one knew what they planned to do next. Presumably, this chaotic situation was also giving the high-ranking officers of the Delanmaya command headquarters a terrible headache, unable to accurately locate the enemy’s main force that had broken through into their territory and smoothly carry out the plan for a tight iron encirclement.

In addition, Titello City still maintained contact with us three times a day: the enemy below the city lined up on schedule every day to shout and harass, working hard to lure the garrison out of the city to fight, and they had also launched small-scale sneak attacks, but there were no attack actions with any real threat. They had no idea that a catastrophic disaster was about to fall on their heads.

Because he couldn’t sort out the military intentions hidden behind these scattered pieces of intelligence, our “King” Fred was extremely troubled. He always felt that there was an unspeakable crisis hidden behind the entire war situation, but all the conclusions he drew lacked reliable evidence. Therefore, he could only try to convince himself that the commander of the Winston Western Route Army was an inexperienced idiot who didn’t even know what he himself was doing.

Finally, we ended our long journey across an open plain, and ahead was the entrance to Dragon’s Spine Canyon. According to our current speed, we would pass through the canyon tonight and catch the Winstons at Titello City completely off guard.

The blazing noonday sun shone directly on the towering giant rocks on both sides of the canyon, looking indescribably fierce and terrifying, forming a sharp contrast with the dark, sunless interior of the canyon, vaguely revealing a strange and sinister feeling. After entering the canyon mouth, we saw that the left side was a sheer cliff rising a thousand feet, too high to climb, blocking the sunlight that should have shone into the canyon. The right side, however, was a steep slope, with a forest at the top of the slope, but only a few clumps of weeds and bushes on the slope itself. Presumably because the cliff blocked the sunlight, the trees couldn’t grow tall.

We had walked halfway through the winding canyon, probably two to three thousand paces from the canyon entrance by now. The curiosity and alertness we had felt when first entering the canyon gradually relaxed. It was the drowsy time after noon when people felt sleepy, and the soldiers on the march felt both physical and mental exhaustion, their minds gradually drifting. I also lost the interest to look around, hoping to get out of this strategically dangerous place as soon as possible.

Just when everyone’s guard was down, a thunderous rumbling came from ahead, and many huge rocks and rolling logs came crashing down from both sides. The horses in the front ranks were startled into neighing and scattered in all directions, and the originally orderly formation instantly fell into chaos. The soldiers who hadn’t recovered their senses stood frozen on the spot. Before they could figure out what was happening, waves of arrows had already shot over.

“Enemy attack! Scatter! Take cov—” A mounted officer waved the saber in his hand and shouted loudly, but before he could finish, several arrows pierced through his chest, and he fell from his horse, unable to make another sound. However, the terrified soldiers didn’t need his reminder; they were already everywhere looking for cover to hide their bodies.

“Partner, run!” Rama beside me shouted and charged backward. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t. A sharp arrow pierced straight through his head from the slope. I heard the faint sound of his skull shattering, and saw the most bloody and cruel scene in my entire life:

Rama fell onto his back on the ground, his face filled with unbelievable fear, pale gray, both eyes bulging out, radiating death. The arrowhead stuck out from the other side of Rama’s head, and from the wounds on both sides, a thick liquid mixed with red and white gurgled out—don’t tell me what that was. One of his hands stretched forward, as if he was trying to grab something.

He couldn’t grab anything anymore.

He was already dead.

My vision spun, my mind went completely blank. I didn’t know anything, couldn’t think of anything. I couldn’t see the arrows flying toward me, couldn’t see the rocks falling from the sky. I only felt that what was happening before my eyes wasn’t real. A lively, vibrant life, just a moment ago still joking and laughing with you, instantly lost its life and became a meaningless body. What would you feel at that moment? I can tell you, you wouldn’t feel anything at all, you wouldn’t even feel your own life.

Because death came too fast.

“Ah…” A moment later, I heard a desperate, terrified voice come out of my own mouth. Then I felt myself hugging my head with both hands and crouching on the ground, my eyes tightly shut, my whole body trembling without stopping. Powerful arrows whistled past my ears, and any one of them could easily take my life. But I couldn’t move, not even one step. A thing called fear had grabbed hold of me tightly, making me unable to control my own body.

“Jeff!” Who? Who was calling me? I didn’t dare to open my eyes. I was really afraid of seeing that bloody scene.

“Jeff!!” The voice grew louder. Then I felt someone push me down, hug me, and roll us over several times. Then I felt myself leaning against the cliff wall.

“Jeff, are you okay!” I finally opened my eyes. It was Fred. He was crouching beside me, using the shield on his left arm to protect the two of us. Where I had been crouching just now lay a dead horse, and its owner lay dead right beside it.

My lips trembled, and I couldn’t say a single word. I could only shake my head to express myself. Rama’s death had hit me too hard.

“Second squad, pay attention! Do what I do!” Carlson’s shout came from above my head. I struggled to look up and saw him lying sideways against the cliff, curling his whole body as much as he could to reduce the area exposed to attack, and putting his shield in front of his head and face to block the arrows coming from the slope.

“Don’t stick your heads out!” Carlson roared.

At this time, the terror gradually faded, and the will to survive restored my senses. Fred and I hurriedly curled up our bodies as much as we could, leaning against the cliff in the same posture. Above us and below us, the surviving soldiers of the second squad all hid themselves the same way.

Before long, we discovered the benefit of doing this: because we were pressed tightly against the cliff, and the enemies on the cliff rarely shot directly straight down, and even the rolling logs and tumbling rocks passed in a small arc and landed in front of us, so we only needed to defend against attacks coming from the slope. Curling up our bodies tight and raising our shields high greatly reduced our risk of being hit by arrows.

Actually, even the shields were unnecessary. In front of us, the comrades and horses running wildly around in panic had already blocked the vast majority of the arrows for us, forming a natural shield for us.

“No wonder he always managed to escape. ‘The Back’ Carlson really has a wealth of survival experience.” Having gradually calmed down, I suddenly had this inexplicable thought.

The soldiers in chaos ran backward desperately, not listening to the officers’ calls and commands at all. Everyone was fighting for the narrow exit. No one could control this mob anymore. This army, with half its soldiers being new recruits who had never been on a battlefield and had only received training in chopping wooden stakes, had completely lost its combat formation, and no one even knew what Winston uniforms looked like. Even if there were still some experienced veterans willing to resist, they couldn’t stop their own people surging backward like a tide. Finally, someone swung a short sword at his own comrades, then a second, then a third… The cavalrymen galloped backward at top speed, completely ignoring the allies who were knocked down and trampled by their horses. The soldiers who had just been marching forward in unison moments ago suddenly treated each other as mortal enemies blocking their path to survival, slashing at each other like madmen. Severed arms and limbs cut down under their own people’s swords gradually appeared on the ground. Many new recruits were so terrified by this crazy sight that they broke down, sitting on the ground crying and laughing at the same time, only to turn into corpses a moment later.

On the battlefield, the lives of the weak were just that cheap. No one knew whether they would still be alive the next moment.

“Damn it, where did these Winstons come from?” A cavalryman who had lost his horse hid behind a rock and cursed. Judging by his uniform, he should be an officer of considerable rank. No one could answer his question. The enemies in front of them were like demons that had crawled up from underground, devouring our lives with the weapons in their hands.

“They shouldn’t be here!” This officer was finally hit by an arrow. Before dying, he shouted unwillingly, utterly puzzled by his own death. According to his thinking, he should have been a glorious warrior charging through battle on a flat open plain, cutting down enemies with his own blade. Not a defeated general dying in blood and filth. There were always some people who couldn’t understand that war and killing never proceeded according to any single person’s wishes. And it just so happened that most of these people held high positions and were arrogant by nature. A small mistake on their part could doom an army, a country, or even the future of an entire nation.

“Listen to my command. When I shout ‘run,’ everyone runs toward the entrance. Don’t turn your faces, don’t lower your heads, only look forward. You can swing your swords at anything that blocks you!” Carlson’s voice came through the desperate screams all around us, bringing us incomparable calm and comfort at this moment.

Winston infantry wearing leather armor and holding short swords appeared on the slope, charging at our defeated army with battle cries that shook the sky, and quickly rushed down the slope. The intensity of the arrows began to slow.

“Can we run now!” Riley shouted loudly.

“Wait a little longer!!” Carlson firmly stopped us.

Sure enough, before they reached the bottom of the canyon, the arrows suddenly intensified. Many people who had just been lured out of cover lost their lives to this sudden surge of arrows.

“Run!!” The moment the Winston infantry neared the canyon floor and the arrows completely stopped, Carlson’s life-saving command finally came. A dozen young soldiers suddenly jumped up from the corners and charged out at a speed beyond ordinary people.

“Run” was a special command for us. The habit formed over the past half year made us reflexively charge forward upon hearing this word. No matter how exhausted our bodies were, no matter how terrified our minds were, no matter what environment we were in, we had to run. We absolutely had to run with all our might, because behind us was a demon, and even if we died, we absolutely could not die in his hands.

I could no longer see my comrades with their tragic deaths, and I didn’t pay any attention to those tall, sturdy Winstons charging at us. To us who were running, the squad leader Carlson behind us, that little man waving his short sword and loudly cursing our ancestors back to the eighteenth generation, was the most terrifying thing in this world. Even death wasn’t as brutal as his cursing.

I suddenly felt that conditioned reflexes were a good thing.

The comrades running in front began to make contact with the enemy. The training of swinging swords while running proved effective. Ordinary attacks became extremely sharp with the help of high-speed momentum, and several Winston soldiers were wounded and retreated.

These were the first Winstons to be wounded in this war.

Some people were stopped, their footsteps forced to halt. Facing enemy soldiers who were already accustomed to war, their chances of survival were very slim.

Just at this moment, a tall Winston soldier shouted loudly and charged head-on at me.

This was the first true enemy in my life. This fierce-faced bald man held my life and death in his hands.

No thinking, no awareness. Just habitual charging, drawing my sword, swinging, fleeing…

Dust mixed with blood splashed under my feet.

At the moment I began to fight.