Chapter 268 – 106: Final Assault_2
Cannons loaded with grapeshot roared and claid more than a dozen lives with each blast, the walnut-sized iron balls capable of piercing one person’s body before killing another.
Boiling oil, burning sulfur, and bubbling pitch were poured down from the city walls, imdiately followed by a chilling chorus of agonized screams.
Atop the triangle fortress, the Venetians too were cleansing the city walls, their cannons and muskets shredding Tanilian soldiers into a grueso spray of flesh and blood.
The siege troops extended ladders from the triangle fortress onto the battlents; heavily armored sword and shield bearers leapt onto the city wall, engaging the defenders in brutal lee.
The cacophony of cannon and musket fire, the warning bells of Tachi’s church, the crisp sound of clashing weapons, and the desperate screams of dying warriors rged into a single horrific symphony.
Flas from the muzzles of guns flashed like lightning, while the combined roar of sounds thundered like a storm, shocking even the gods with the cruelty humanity exhibited today.
Great fires erupted in many places; the stench of burning tar and sulfur, along with the terrible charred scent of cooking human flesh, spread throughout the city walls.
The smoke from the fires at the front lines and the white smoke from the gunshots grew denser, until the entire city was enveloped in thick smoke, and eventually neither side could see the other, and no one knew whom they were fighting.
Thus, Venetians and Tanilians were slaughtering each other in a confined space—no, there were no longer distinctions between Venetians and Tanilians, just individuals struggling to survive.
While the Veneta Army and the defenders engaged in fierce combat, Winters anxiously awaited the signal.
By his side was Major Moritz, along with seven other junior officers. This special squad all shared an additional identity—Spellcasters.
The best weapon against a mage was another mage, and the generals of the Vineta Army were well aware of this fact.
The enemy might have legendary court Spellcasters on their side, but the Venetians now also had their own Spellcasters.
Antoine-Laurent initially believed that Alliance Spellcasters could not quickly achieve the individual level of court Spellcasters, hence he suggested enrolling potential Spellcasters into military academies to cultivate Spellcasting officers for frontline combat support.
However, this idea ultimately went awry in practice: being a Spellcaster beca a stepping stone for officers, and once they had served long enough, they were swiftly promoted to senior ranks.
So how were these Spellcasters, now removed from the front lines, to provide magical support? And where could busy military commanders find the energy for daily spell practice?
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It resulted in a perverse cycle: the more senior the Venetian Spellcaster, the poorer their Spellcasting skills tended to be—colonel Spellcasters weren’t even as combat-effective as their junior officer counterparts.
Antoine-Laurent made an error, which, unfortunately, he no longer had a way to correct.
That’s why Major Moritz ended up being assigned to lead this “counterasures” squad. After all, they couldn’t just call in commanding officers from every unit, could they? Not to ntion how much of their magical ability those officers still retained was questionable.
Instead, Moritz, who had been benched for many years, saw his Spellcasting skills steadily improve.
Winters, one of the few Spellcasters with actual combat experience, although not a formal officer, was also drafted into Moritz’s special squad.
Major Moritz, for various reasons, was not heavily utilized in the military, and he did not care about others’ opinions; on the contrary, he enjoyed his leisure. But at this mont, Antonio and Layton could only rely on the strongest Spellcaster recognized in the military—Moritz van Nassau.
“Why hasn’t the signal been given yet?” Lieutenant Kirk paced back and forth restlessly beneath the parapet.
Faced with an unknown enemy, everyone in Moritz’s squad beca sowhat edgy: Captain Lailo repeatedly checked his weapons over and over; Major Moritz toyed with a steel awl he had borrowed from Winters—today the Major was not concerned with portability; Winters was sitting on his seat, hands on knees, trying to clear his mind as much as possible.
This squad, comprised entirely of officers, was now all dressed in enlisted soldiers’ uniforms.
Not just them—today, all the Spellcaster officers in the Vineta Army had removed their Spellcaster insignia.
The centurions and commanders on the front lines had also removed their distinctive officer’s armors and helts, donning soldiers’ gear instead. Although it did reduce the efficiency of the command system, it was a necessary asure in desperate tis.
“No signal is actually a good thing,” said Major Moritz, taking off an exquisite silver flask from behind his belt and tossing it to Lieutenant Kirk, “Take a drink.”
Lieutenant Kirk suspiciously pulled out the stopper and sniffed it: “Is this wine?”
“It’s a special wine; I’ve added so agents to it that can suppress a Spellcaster’s emotions, making it easier for them to enter a Spellcasting state.”
Upon hearing this, Lieutenant Kirk took a big gulp and then handed the flask back to Major Moritz.
“Winters,” Lieutenant Pisani couldn’t help but pat Winters on the shoulder.
Winters, whose mind had been blank, reflexively stood to attention.
“Sit, don’t be nervous,” Pisani, startled himself, patted Winters on the shoulder again, “I have sothing to ask you.”
Pisani was only two classes ahead of Winters, and the two were quite close while at Guidao City. Winters naturally answered whatever he was asked.
“You’re the only one among us who has killed a mage; since we’re idle, co on, share your experience,” Pisani said, slinging an arm around Winters’ neck.
Hearing Pisani’s words, the others also pricked up their ears. It was rare for the more senior to seek advice from the younger, and it was Winters’ first ti being asked about his “killing experience.”
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