Chapter 91 : Field Practice (2)

At Kalia’s command, the demons grin viciously.

“You heard her, bastards! Lady Aurora wants meat shields!”

“Pick someone that fits your size and charge!!”

It was something impossible by normal human standards, but for them, it was more than doable.

Without hesitation, they each grabbed a slave soldier lying across the battlefield.

They seized the scruff of those whose morale had been broken under enemy fire and moved forward.

Toward their opponents on the left flank — in other words, the Empire’s right wing.

“W-what the hell are you doing?! Let me go!”

“Tsk, just stay still, alright? It’s a life that’s going to die anyway — we’re just putting it to good use.”

“You insane bastards! It’s not enough to use us as slaves, now you’re turning us into bullet shields—”

“Ah, shut it. Struggle all you want, but not too much.”

They weren’t just dragging them along or anything like that.

They were literally lifting them up and holding them forward like shields.

And since they had to carry weapons too, they were doing it with just one hand.

The nomadic warriors observing from the rear couldn’t hide their shock.

“T-that’s actually possible…?”

“This is like something out of a children’s fairy tale. I heard demons were strong, but this is…”

“I never imagined such a brutish tactic would be used in real combat.”

Looks like they were really stunned.

Well, I was too, at first.

It’s just that I’ve grown used to the traits of demons after spending so long around Kalia.

‘Those guys are just that strong.’

Demons have immense strength.

To put it concretely, it’s about twice that of a human.

Same build, same gender, same age — and even then, the difference is at least twofold.

Sometimes, even if their bodies look the same on the outside, they weigh more.

Probably because their muscle density is higher.

‘Which means they can easily handle the weight of a full-grown person.’

The average height of men in this era is around 160 cm.

Due to constant hunger and malnutrition, their weight is barely 50 to 60 kg.

Even more so for the slave soldiers, who were lightly equipped — even including their gear, they barely reached 70 kg.

So for demons who had been well-fed and built up their stamina for several weeks, carrying that much was entirely doable.

For them, it probably felt like carrying a 25 kg sack of rice.

“But it looks effective. There are almost no casualties.”

“Of course. They’re using a whole human as a shield.”

It was a horrifying tactic, but undeniably effective.

The human shield that covered their whole body was heavy, but it did its job — both alive and dead.

No matter how powerful musket bullets were, they couldn’t pierce through one person to kill the one behind.

Unless they were hit directly by cannon fire, their chances of dying were virtually zero.

Aside from the one exposed arm used to hold the slave soldier, the demons were nearly fully protected as they safely advanced right up to the enemy lines.

And once they got there?

“Drop the shields! Smash through their formation!!”

“We’re too close for them to shoot! We have the advantage — don’t be afraid, just charge!!”

“Throw your grenades! Don’t wait for orders — just toss them all!!”

A complete melee ensued.

A brutal close-quarters battle where neither long spears meant to block advances nor modern muskets were of any use.

In the chaotic clash where friend and foe were entangled, the demons thrived.

Crack!

Snap!

“Ura (Ура)!! Stalin’s Ura!!”

“For the motherland we’ll build (За родину)! For Lady Aurora (За Аурора)! Charge (Вперёд)!!”

Shouting the old Russian-style slogans passed down since Stalin’s time, the demons rampaged with glee.

They crushed skulls with punches, broke necks, shattered collarbones with kicks.

They tore out vocal cords with sheer strength and ruptured vital points.

Like adults beating children.

They ruthlessly trampled over the enemy with overwhelming brutality.

“…With physical abilities like that, how did the Demon King’s army ever lose?”

Someone, dumbfounded by the sight, muttered under their breath.

An elderly demon officer responded.

“We never lost. We always won every battle. We just couldn’t endure because of that damned goddess.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, the Demon King’s army never lost a single fight. It was the goddess — she burned our crops, spread plagues, and cursed us in every way, so we couldn’t hold out.”

So that’s what happened.

I always thought it was strange — with those specs, it should’ve been impossible for them to lose a regular battle.

“If His Majesty the Demon King hadn’t been struck by the lightning the goddess sent just before defeating the hero, the army would’ve remained strong. Same goes for the Demon Soviet Union he built.”

Of course it’d be called the Soviet Union.

Who else but a Demon Stalin would name their country that.

Still, if they were screwed over that badly, it’s understandable why the demons collapsed.

Who would’ve thought the goddess spammed miracles like that.

“The enemy is retreating!”

Even amid their casual chatter, the tide of battle shifted rapidly—mostly in our favor, and disadvantageously for the Artium forces.

“Mo-Monsters! Fall back for now! Retreat and reorganize the lines!”

“Screw the phalanx, just run! If we stay, we’ll be wiped out!”

Unable to withstand the sudden surge in casualties, the right wing of the Artium Empire army hastily attempted to retreat.

Their numbers were already small to begin with, and if they were overwhelmed here, the entire army would collapse.

Their intent was to fall back and regroup at all costs.

However, this was exactly what Kalia had anticipated.

“They’re trying to flee. May I entrust the pursuit and annihilation to you all?”

“Gladly, Lady Kalia.”

“Let’s go, everyone! It’s hunting time!”

The nomadic cavalry, which had been on standby until the very end, now charged forward.

Their goal: to hunt down and thoroughly crush the fleeing remnants of the enemy.

With a sword in one hand and a rocket in the other, they let out cheers as they stormed across the battlefield.

“This settles it.”

“Good work, darling.”

Several hours later.

The cavalry returned, escorting thousands of prisoners, marking the end of the battle on the left flank.

*****

“Congratulations on your victory, Great Khan.”

“This is thanks to everyone’s hard work. You too, Ishmael, must have worked hard supporting Kalia.”

“You flatter me. I only stood by and watched from the rear.”

From Artium’s perspective, the situation was truly unfortunate.

The battle had gone overwhelmingly in our favor on all fronts—left, right, and center.

Though the enemy had put up a decent fight, they simply couldn’t overcome the vast numerical disadvantage and inferior combat power.

After being hammered by endless rocket strikes and cavalry charges, their command structure was wiped out.

The survivors were all captured.

“That aside… an impressive achievement.”

“Indeed. I’ve never seen a battle yield this much loot.”

As much as they wanted to celebrate the glorious victory, there was no time to relax.

Even with the fighting over, there was still much to do.

The materials and manpower obtained through this triumph needed to be dealt with appropriately.

“We have over 800 pounds (362kg) of gunpowder alone, tens of thousands of bullets, and thousands of the latest model muskets. Not to mention cuirasses, helmets, saddles… This haul could arm an entire major tribe and then some.”

“And that’s exactly the problem. Everyone’s going to want a piece of it.”

The army we faced was Artium’s regular force—top-tier troops hastily assembled from all directions specifically to suppress the nomadic horde.

As such, the supplies they carried were nothing short of massive.

Even though some had been destroyed or consumed, a considerable amount still remained in the storage depots.

“Gunpowder can be distributed according to unit size, but…”

To the nomads, who always lived under harsh conditions, these were treasures beyond measure.

Even a small share would drastically increase their warriors’ combat capabilities.

Still, this wasn’t the real issue.

Mahdi would simply divide it as needed.

Distributing the spoils based on each tribe’s contribution and political standing was a basic responsibility of the Great Khan.

He didn’t seem too concerned about it himself, so it was probably fine.

“What about the people? How should we handle them?”

The real issue was manpower.

Specifically, how to deal with the captured regular army prisoners.

“Kubilai of the neighboring tribe suggested we just kill them all.”

“After going through the trouble of capturing them?”

“He says we already have enough people, so there’s no need for more.”

Indeed, they already had plenty of slave soldiers.

While the captured prisoners were clearly of high quality, there wasn’t enough food to integrate them all into the army.

But if they were released, they’d just rejoin the enemy.

In that case, mass execution was the cleanest option with the fewest complications.

“Isn’t there a better way? You’re a smart guy—put that brain to work.”

“You can’t just throw that at me and expect an answer… Anyway, I understand. I’ll try to come up with something.”

Per Mahdi’s request, I thought over the matter and brought it to others to seek advice.

And just in time, one of the staff officers assisting Kalia offered a brilliant (or so he claimed) idea.

“Then let’s proceed with selection.”

“How, exactly?”

“Didn’t we lose a fair number of slave soldiers in this battle? To fill in the gaps, we can pick out the strongest and sturdiest ones from among the prisoners.”

With this absurd suggestion, the officer brought out a wagon wheel from the storage area—one used on giant carriages pulled by multiple monsters, as tall as a person.

“If they’re smaller than this, we kill them. If they’re bigger, we keep them. Easy way to filter them out, right?”

Uh… so you’re saying we use the wagon wheel as a reverse measuring tool?

Does that even make sense?