Chapter 193 : Damn, Sold Too Cheap!
Chapter 193: Damn, Sold Too Cheap!
Chernit Defensive Line
Although the Church had long since breached this heavily fortified city, the Tsarist Nation of Roshek did not easily compromise or relinquish this crucial gateway.
Large numbers of armed serfs and civilian believers were organized into wave after wave of assaults against Chernit, forcing the Church army’s advance to stall here, unable to push forward any further.
Thus, a brutal positional warfare struggle unfolded between the two sides.
According to the previous warfare patterns of the Main Continent, battles would not have developed into this state.
Large-scale encounters and siege battles were not unheard of, but they were far less frequent than now. The deciding factor had traditionally been the deployment of highly mobile units such as cavalry and aerial knight orders.
Whether one could outmaneuver the enemy and destroy their supply lines often determined victory or defeat, since both Mechanical Soldiers and ordinary humans had physiological needs.
However, ever since the introduction of the Alliance’s bolt-action rifles, machine guns, and field support artillery, the intensity of warfare had escalated endlessly.
Networked trench systems, barbed wire, dugouts, machine gun bunkers—all had been successively deployed across both sides’ positions. Any charge or countercharge now resulted in massive losses of manpower.
And today, everything changed once again.
As a not-so-devout believer, Petersen returned to his trench position after perfunctorily finishing the priest’s prayer ritual. He adjusted the cloth cap on his head, then raised it with one hand, slowly lifting it above the trench while cautiously exposing his head beneath it.
This was a survival method he had figured out himself. Many comrades had been shot in the head the moment they peeked out to observe the enemy trench.
With this method, if he were attacked, he could at least choose between losing his hand or his skull—and he would much rather lose the former.
After enduring countless bombardments from artillery and Magic Crystal Cannons, the trench fortifications of both nations had rapidly evolved under the instruction of Alliance instructors. Typically, trenches were dug to a depth of about 2.5 to 3 meters, with widths ranging from 1.5 to 2 meters.
At nearly three meters deep, reinforced dugouts could be carved out to store supplies and provide shelter from bombardments. A width of around two meters also made it difficult for most people to cross easily.
With barbed wire installed behind them, few would dare leap across only to be impaled.
Cavalry had completely lost their value in front of such trenches. Charging through heavy machine gun fire was useless, and once they fell in, they lost all mobility and became sitting targets. Now, they could only serve as mobile support units.
Petersen’s attempt to observe yielded nothing useful. The battlefield was filled with thick mist, leaving only a vast expanse of white that obscured most of his vision.
Just as he was about to jump down from the supply crate in disappointment, enormous shadowy figures began to emerge faintly from the distant fog.
Like gigantic snapping turtles, they slowly advanced toward their defensive line.
The Church officer saw this as well and immediately shouted, “Attack! Open fire!”
Hearing the whistle of the supervising troops, Petersen quickly aimed at the shadow and repeatedly pulled the bolt, firing continuously. Soon, the Church’s position erupted with the dense, distinct gunfire of LB-11 (optical sight)-equipped rifles, while machine gun bunkers and fortifications on the upper positions began sustained fire.
Before long, the shadows concealed in the mist revealed their true form—a steel monster entirely clad in iron plating, with only a cannon barrel protruding from the front, steadily advancing toward the trenches.
Occasional rifle and machine gun bullets struck its body, producing nothing more than sparks before being deflected by the thick armor. It continued forward unwaveringly.
After crossing the foremost small trench obstacle, the steel monsters halted with a grinding sound of metal. By now, the distance had closed to 400 meters, and the dark cannon barrels at the front slowly began to elevate.
The officer, who had also been firing, immediately realized what was happening. His shrill roar echoed across the trenches:
“Get down!!!”
‘Boom!’
‘Boom…’
The distance was so close that the enemy’s artillery accuracy increased dramatically.
Shell after shell of 75mm high-explosive rounds detonated all around the trench positions. Clusters of soldiers hiding together were blasted into the air, or killed instantly by the shockwaves.
Machine gun positions that had been wildly firing were systematically eliminated amid the thunderous barrage.
One high-explosive shell landed in a trench barely ten meters from Petersen. After the explosion, all he could see were limbs and blood raining through the air. Half of a comrade’s head landed not far from him, causing him to retch violently.
“Get up! Get up! Close ranks!”
“Pick up your weapons and charge! The Goddess’s glory will always shine—”
With a ‘BOOM!’, the priest’s figure vanished entirely, leaving only two severed legs spinning through the air.
Yet his task had already been accomplished.
Large numbers of soldiers, clutching explosive packs, rushed out of the trenches via pre-prepared rope ladders and openings, charging madly toward the steel beasts outside.
But before they could get far, flashes of fire suddenly erupted from the enemy machines. Dense streams of bullets swept toward the charging Church soldiers.
A soldier was struck, a massive hole torn through his back, killing him instantly.
Before his body could even fall, several more bullets shattered his head and thighs, turning him into a pile of mangled flesh mixed with the remains of his comrades.
Watching the approaching monsters, Petersen raised his long rifle and continuously cycled the bolt, mechanically pulling the trigger. But the sloped armor of the enemy deflected every single shot.
As the tracks of the machine were about to pass over his head, Petersen collapsed onto the blood-soaked mud of the trench. Nearby, waves of dense, heart-wrenching screams snapped him back to awareness.
Turning his head, he saw that on the other side, steel beasts had already broken through the main trench routes, crushing everything in their path with a slow yet unstoppable force.
At the front, soldiers were ground into pulp. Those who witnessed it were completely overwhelmed by terror. More than a dozen soldiers pushed and shoved each other, trying to squeeze through a blocked side passage.
In the end, none escaped.
Like small tomatoes crushed underfoot, amid inhuman screams, red and white flesh was squeezed out from beneath the tracks, spilling to both sides.
Meanwhile, the machine gun turrets on the sides of the beasts spewed fire relentlessly into the trench corridors, kicking up waves of blood.
The steel monster directly above Petersen lowered its front slightly. Seeing this, a nearby comrade lost control completely, screaming in terror as he soiled himself, while Petersen’s eyes were filled with numbness born of extreme fear.
Fortunately, it did not remain lowered for long. As its tracks reached the far side of the trench, it rose again and passed over them.
Light returned to Petersen’s eyes. Trembling, he crawled up and leaned against the muddy wall, gulping down the blood-heavy air.
Saint Tsar Tank
Unbelievably, this iron behemoth had been heavily modified by the Tsarist Nation of Roshek based on light tanks and spare parts transported from Seris.
The Alliance had delivered a total of 70 sixteen-ton light tanks, along with a large number of spare parts. From these, the Tsarist Nation had created various massive machines, each exceeding 30 tons.
Among them, this battlefield model was the Tsar’s favorite. A total of 25 units were produced and officially designated as the Saint Tsar-class.
The designer who led these modifications in the Tsarist Nation could be called the father of modification engineering in the magic world.
When Mitia received this intelligence report, she slapped her little secretary’s thigh hard:
“Damn, we sold them too cheap!”