Ch.145I’ll blow all your heads off!

“Hah… Total annihilation, they say.”

“Yes… And they say the enemy didn’t even get a scratch.”

“Not even a scratch means…?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Not a single one of them died or was injured.”

“Hmph.”

Tap… tap… tap…

Figures draped in black and red robes, with grotesquely exposed veins.

They were among the followers of demons who had received certain blessings, wielding more powerful authorities, guardians of evil souls without even a shred of hope for salvation.

One of them nervously tapped on the table, but no one called him out on it.

“No matter how expendable they were, this result is shocking… To think gunpowder weapons could be so powerful…”

“If the enemy is highly trained and their equipment superior, it won’t be easy to overcome them.”

Throughout history, attacking a strong army with high training and superior equipment has always been extremely difficult.

Before the existence of machine guns, war—no matter how much effort was exerted—ultimately came down to breaking through formations.

Even without the term “front-line infantry,” forming a line among soldiers meant connecting lives, and breaking that line meant severing those lives.

And now, while their own lines were solid, elite soldiers wielding weapons that could crush the enemy’s formation like stepping on eggs had arrived. For the heretics who had only faced regular troops with mediocre combat abilities until now, it was a blood-draining situation.

“We’ve been suffering increasing losses lately, and now reinforcements? Are those incompetent debtors trying to incur more debt? What malicious borrowers.”

“This is not the time to denounce the unbelievers, but to discuss how to deal with Amurtat’s soldiers.”

Naturally, heretics didn’t have unlimited numbers.

Even with blessings, they still needed some way to procure food and weapons.

Fortunately, those supply lines were still functioning, allowing them to somehow push the front lines, but even though the war had been going on for less than a year, their resources were already running thin.

The demand for drugs was increasingly outpacing that for medicine, and they were losing battles they should have won while suffering greater defeats in battles they were bound to lose.

This wasn’t particularly strange.

From the beginning, the heretics’ forces sounded formidable in name, but in reality, they were nothing more than a collection of disorganized cult members.

To receive blessings, one had to demonstrate valor, which meant that as long as one could rampage, formations and strategies were completely ignored.

As for equipment, at best they carried blunt longswords forged in village smithies, or crude spears made by haphazardly attaching kitchen knives to poorly dried mop handles.

With such weapons, their armor was naturally terrible as well. What could barely be called armor went to commanders and priests, while the common soldiers wore rags of loosely woven leather pieces or cloth as protection.

There were two main reasons such an army had been able to overwhelm the regular forces of three nations:

First, they had struck a decisive blow by exploiting the complacency of regular armies that had mistaken them for an ordinary rebellion.

Second, they received covert support through the demon worship networks subtly spread across various countries.

Many small contributions add up. Even if one person contributes just one copper coin, a hundred such contributions make one silver coin.

And no matter how thoroughly they tried to eradicate demon worshippers, it was impossible to root them out completely. Even after many died in the Fahrenheit Incident, their combined strength could still overthrow several small countries.

But now that strength was failing them, leaving their mouths parched with anxiety.

“If we keep losing like this, support from our other brethren will be cut off. We need a definitive victory.”

“I agree. No matter how strong Amurtat’s army is, they can’t be in two places at once. If we can tie them down, we can use that opportunity to fight the local regular forces with our apostles.”

The apostles were beings blessed by demons or comparable entities.

Naturally, they didn’t possess normal bodies or minds, which is why the word “blessing” wasn’t considered sacred among heretics.

One couldn’t call the transformation of a human into a quadrupedal monster a blessing.

“They’re an expeditionary force, which means their supplies are limited. And there’s nowhere in Herestin where they can procure the bullets or gunpowder they need. So a prolonged war would give us an advantage.”

When one of the priests who seemed to have some military knowledge offered this opinion, the other followers appeared to agree.

Few among them could devise military strategies, but many could incite people. As long as they received support, the heretics had the upper hand in a prolonged conflict.

But just as they were thinking this, a messenger burst through the door in a panic.

“R-reporting! Amurtat’s army has split up and is approaching! They’re attacking our stationed forces!”

“What.”

*

BOOM! BOOOM!

“As expected of the 24-pounder. Definitely effective.”

The 7,600 wagons weren’t just for show.

Of course, a prolonged war would disadvantage the Amurtat forces, but what if they ended the war before that became an issue?

Amurtat’s expeditionary force possessed an outstanding weapon called “cannons,” and the power of these cannons was like a brass and bronze injector forcing repentance into the ignorant heretics.

The 6-pound guns fired shells from a distance, the 12-pound direct-fire cannons shattered palisades, and the 24-pound howitzers sent charging heretics to the angels’ court with grapeshot.

Like children gleefully stomping on squirming worms, the heretics struggled desperately to destroy the cannons, but they were beaten by muskets up close and pulverized by cannons from afar.

Though they managed to inflict thousands of casualties through ambushes and surprise attacks, this only proved they couldn’t face the enemy in any other way.

“Everyone draw swords! Let’s show these heretics the taste of Amurtat’s blade!”

“Forward march!”

“””UWAAAAAHHHH!!!!”””

And even without bullets, the Amurtat army was far from helpless.

They were specialists in slaughter, and the heretics didn’t become stronger just because their opponents might have weakened.

After lightning swept through the enemy lines, thunder shattered their formation, followed by military boots and swords cleanly severing flailing limbs.

“Block it!!! Block it, I say!”

“AAAAGH!!! Cannon fire incoming!”

“Get down!!!”

BOOM! BOOOOM!

Formations collapsed before strategies could be implemented, supply lines and encampments crumbled before plans could be made.

The Amurtat army advanced with thunderous speed and crushed the heretics with lightning force.

On the smoke-covered plains, heavily armored cavalry charged with cavalry sabers, followed by uniformed infantry advancing with flags held high.

The blessed apostles?

Meaningless.

Carbon-based life forms made of bone and flesh were torn apart by cannon fire, and those with inferior durability crumbled when hit by lead bullets carrying kinetic energy.

No demonic blessing or declaration could overcome the power of gunpowder, and the hundreds of thousands of heretics who had once driven three nations to the brink of extinction were now being hunted down after being one-sidedly defeated by a mere 60,000 troops.

“No! Please… please have mercy!”

CRUNCH!

And all of this took place in just one month.

This was the difference in power, the difference in national strength.

While Amurtat’s expeditionary force was unilaterally annihilating the heretics, the regular armies of the three nations caught their breath and numbly realized the military might of a more advanced civilization.

“The difference… is too great…”

A difference beyond despair, to the point of resignation.

Even if all the people of the three nations stood against Amurtat, they could not win.

Having once desperately tried and failed to achieve such strength themselves, the defeated soldiers couldn’t tear their eyes away from Amurtat’s imposing presence of flame and smoke.

To face them meant death, to flee meant dying exhausted.

Only then did the people of the three nations realize how they had scored an own goal pursuing an illusory goal.

That strength. Those weapons. That training. Those uniforms. That armor. Those warhorses…

They couldn’t match even one of these things, couldn’t even imitate a single aspect.

The homelands they failed to protect were saved by those who had placed the yoke of debt upon them, and now another debt was added.