What Do You Wish For With Murky Eyes: Record of Highserk War - Chapter 59

Even when the twin moons began chasing away the sun, the makeshift walls had not yet fallen. The Highserk soldiers, who had barely recovered from the chaos, continued their bloody struggle alongside Walm. Even corpses were treated as valuable resources here.

Due to the extensive reserves and disciplined units being lost, inexperienced civilians, were thrown onto the ramparts just to fill the ranks. Fighting desperately against magical creatures with long spears, they could manage if three of them teamed up against one creature. Naturally, the citizen soldiers were being depleted one after another.

“Owlbear!”

“Thrust it, don’t get close!!”

The Owlbear, with its thick outer skin and feathers, leaped into range, slashing its claws through the calf and biting through the throat. The remaining citizen soldier thrust a spear into its torso with a scream-like roar, but without a well-aimed stance, the spear didn’t deliver a fatal blow.

“Ugh, aghhh!!”

The Owlbear, with its neck tilted 90 degrees, found the assailant and reached out its bloodied mighty arm, but a Highserk soldier sneaked up from a blind spot and cut off its hind leg with an axe.

“Over here, you half-breed!”

With its posture disrupted, the Owlbear bent its neck backward, attempting to respond to the Highserk soldier, but citizen soldiers kept thrusting various sword points into its torso one after another.

“Kill, kill! Kiiiill!”

“A-ah, aaaaah!”

“Good, scream! Stab repeatedly!”

The Highserk soldiers repeatedly slammed their axes into the convulsing Owlbear. The citizens, baptized in blood, adopted the Highserk soldiers’ style.

On-the-job training, practical education – Highserk soldiers excelled at turning innocent civilians into bloodthirsty warriors. This was the reality of the makeshift walls, where both the military and civilians faced magical creatures together.

The only surviving battalion commander seemed to have inherited the command structure within the city, completing the reorganization of the units. However, having lost a third of their personnel, chronic manpower shortages were inevitable everywhere.

From above, a Highserk soldier slammed a halberd down, breaking through the armor of an orc. Due to fatigue, it didn’t cut vertically in half, but the exposed cross-section of the orc’s chest caused it to fall without a sound.

Walm sensed a change in the atmosphere in front. A Lich, using magic, crafted an «Ice Spear» and launched it. Walm instantly spewed out flames, melting it.

«Ignis Fatuus» reached the Lich without diminishing and enveloped its entire ghostly form. The Lich emitted a sharp cry, but it didn’t last long.

For other magical creatures, without additional firepower, «Ignis Fatuus» might not result in significant damage. However, when it came to undead beings, the azure flames demonstrated tremendous effectiveness, with power comparable to the purification of the Holy attribute.

Ideally, Walm didn’t want to expend magical power. Due to the continuous battles since morning, Walm’s magical power was nearly depleted, and even «Heavy Strike» felt unreliable.

In the intervals between battles, swallowing portable food and taking the luxury of pouring drinking water were moments of indulgence. Naturally, magical power recovery was slow, and aside from crucial moments, Walm found himself engaging in combat without magical power, reminiscent of his days as a new recruit.

Thrusting the spear into a kobold’s eye socket, Walm hooked and took away the sword of the lizardman standing beside it.

When Walm gripped the sword that materialized in the void, the lizardman extended its neck, attempting to feast on the flesh with its jaw. Walm walked with the sword in hand and returned it to the lizardman’s mouth. The fangs grated, tearing through the spine while piercing the throat.

“Who’s next to meet their end!?”

In response to Walm’s intimidating presence, the one-eyed Cyclops answered. Approaching Walm with a crudely pulled-out tree as a makeshift weapon.

Capturing the approaching wood grain with his eyes, Walm deftly avoided it at the last moment, causing the unfortunate kobold caught in the motion to spew viscera from its entire body.

Lifting a massive club, the Cyclops checked the results of its attack. Upon confirming it had only crushed a tuft of fur, the Cyclops swung the tree back with a wide motion.

Surely, it would be a horizontal sweep. Convinced of this, Walm considered the available options with the dwindling magical power.

«Ignis Fatuus» was out of the question; there was only a fuel-efficient wind attribute magic. Though Walm was prepared, an arrow, like a shooting star, whizzed by, piercing through the Cyclops’s single eye.

Those who wielded «Strong Bow» were limited, and in this situation, the only adventurer with a connection to Walm was Amy. Nevertheless, her help was invaluable, and Walm raised his hand in gratitude.

The Cyclops, now a giant with no eyes, screamed, shaking the atmosphere with its raging limbs that trembled the ground. While it became a useful demon hitting other monsters on it’s own, mysterious steam emanated from its crushed eye.

Regarding its eye, the Cyclops, possessing an extraordinary regenerative ability, tried to extract the arrow and regenerate the eyeball. Walm, gaining momentum, used wind attribute magic.

Floating up as if gliding, Walm kicked up the swinging arm, and at the top, slammed the halberd down.

The blade that entered from the head shattered the sturdy skull, scattering brain matter. Reaching the lower jaw and throat, it finally stopped. The one-eyed giant collapsed as if sliding down from its knees.

“He killed that giant with a halberd!”

“We haven’t lost. We haven’t lost!”

The massive body and the tree had become part of the new wall. Considering the boosted morale and the monsters crushed, the one-eyed giant was indeed a favorable creature for Walm.

Wiping off the sticky liquid clinging to the halberd and facing forward, Walm was called out by fellow soldiers. When he turned around, four platoon leaders from the Highserk Empire Army were waiting there.

“‘War Time’ Battalion Commander Walm.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Hearing the unfamiliar and somewhat silly rank, Walm, despite being on the battlefield, let out a deflated voice.

“Justus, the War Time Brigade Commander, has granted the rank of War Time Battalion Commander to Guard Commander Walm.”

Walm’s thoughts were sluggish due to fatigue. If it has ‘War Time’ in it, the rank will revert when it returns to peacetime. That’s not a problem. But why the battalion?

“Battalion Commander means—”

When it comes to guard commander even if it’s a stretch, it’s usually a squad or, at most, a reinforced squad. Jumping over platoons and companies to become a battalion commander is beyond comprehension.

“What nonsense!? Do you think a common foot soldier can command a force of 2000?”

Walm, without understanding his position or place, poured out his thoughts. However, the platoon leaders just tilted their heads in curiosity.

“What are you saying? You’re commanding splendidly.”

He had rounded up floating Highserk soldiers in a daze, gathered the missing ones from Myard soldiers and citizens. Stripping weapons from corpses, while exploiting adventurous-looking individuals to patch up crumbling areas, he was just managing to hold on by using his wits.

Walm had been eagerly anticipating the general and battalion who would take command. However, these platoon leaders referred to this ragtag group as a battalion and declared Walm as its commander.

He must be insane. There’s no other explanation.

“Heh, hahaha, is this the Highserk Empire Army’s battalion!? Even half of the core members aren’t regular soldiers.”

“From Brigade Commander Justus, we have been entrusted with regular soldiers at the platoon level through informal arrangements with various units.”

Walm had longed for forces, especially battle-hardened Highserk soldiers. However, the best he can hope for is this motley group treated as a battalion, and, to his dismay, he is the commander.

Walm is aware of his limitations. He can handle up to a squad. His true essence is revealed when leading small groups and standing at the forefront.

However, commanding and operating 2,000 troops while on the front lines was no joke. He would die from overwork before falling in battle.

“I don’t have the know-how to operate a battalion.”

“If it were regular battalion operations, it would be extremely challenging, but this is a defensive battle just to hold the position. It’s much easier than traditional battalion operations. We will assist to the best of our ability, albeit modest.”

“I guess I have no choice but to accept.”

“Yes, there’s no other option.”

The pitiful brigade commander sought a counterpart, and the lot fell on Walm.

“All right, I understand. I’ll humbly accept the position of War Time Battalion Commander. But be prepared, all of you. Whether you spit blood, expose your guts, or exhaust your lives, I’ll exploit you until the end. If you’re okay with that, then follow me.”

Walm welcomed the four platoon leaders and their troops with words of curses.