Chapter 396: The Battle Begins!

Soon, the southern nobles led by Gervas were assigned positions on the left flank of the army.

Their contingent of southern minor nobles totaled thirty thousand, divided into three waves.

Because Gervas and his men had already fought several battles in the vanguard camp, they were personally placed in the third wave by Commander Kael.

This meant they would be the last to enter the battlefield.

As everyone knew, the later you entered the battlefield, the lower your casualties, so this was considered a favor.

But someone was certainly displeased that Gervas received such favor.

"Gentlemen, as overseer of discipline, I warn all of you: do not allow your men to retreat!"

"If anyone dares to retreat, I, the overseer, will not hesitate to punish them!"

"Moreover, your names as lords will be recorded in the register and sent directly to the capital after battle, so the King Himself will mete out punishment!"

After arranging the formations, Commander Kael hurried toward the central command.

At this moment, the overseer Willard arrived before the assembled nobles and began his speech.

Yet throughout his speech, his gaze kept lingering, faintly but unmistakably, on Gervas.

Gervas knew this man had some scheme targeting him.

Sure enough, after finishing his speech, he walked up to Gervas and suddenly said: "Alright, let me rearrange the order. You're Lord Gervas, correct? As a viscount, your men's combat strength must surpass that of other barons."

"Therefore, I expect you to lead your men to the front line, so you can play a greater role in battle—and assist the other noble contingents!"

After Willard spoke, the surrounding nobles froze, then turned their eyes toward Gervas.

Clearly, for Willard the overseer to personally intervene meant Lord Gervas had offended him.

Their gazes instantly filled with pity.

But to everyone's surprise, Gervas remained utterly calm, showing no intention to obey—and not even a hint of response to Willard.

Willard waited a moment, received no reply, and his eyes turned icy. "What? Lord Gervas, are you refusing orders?"

Pfft!

Gervas suddenly laughed out loud. "Orders? Overseer, what orders are you referring to?"

"I told you to take your men to the front row—did you not hear me?"

"Ah, that. But Overseer, if I recall correctly, your duty is merely to oversee the battle. If I were to flee, you have the right to record it."

"But the order of deployment today? That's none of your concern. If you wish to change it, let Commander Kael reorganize it. Otherwise, I won't obey."

"You—" Willard was speechless. He hadn't expected Gervas to resist so bluntly.

And even more unexpectedly, Mil and the others immediately stepped forward!

"Overseer, Lord Gervas is right. If you want to change our order, you must have Commander Kael do it. Our positions were assigned by him—Lord Gervas cannot move them arbitrarily!"

"Correct. We've fought three battles alongside Lord Gervas in the vanguard camp. This position is what he and we earned."

In the past, Mil and the others might have feared Willard's status as a cabinet official and dared not speak up.

But after multiple major battles, they were still alive thanks largely to Gervas—and he had helped them gain significant merit.

This bond forged in death, and the great benefits Gervas brought them, were enough to make them stand without hesitation beside him against Willard.

"You—" Willard was consumed by rage.

"Cabinet Official, do you have any other complaints? If not, get out of our way—or I'll report you to the main camp for obstructing our battle readiness," Gervas said, smiling as he mocked.

After this war ended, he would never let Willard live.

After all, Willard had already tried to kill him multiple times—this was a feud to the death.

If not for being in the military camp, Gervas might have summoned Akari to test the true power of the Night Elves.

Willard didn't know he was already on Gervas's death list; he thought this arrogant little noble was courting death.

His eyes turned venomous. "Fine! Very fine!"

With that, Willard stormed off, teeth clenched.

The surrounding nobles looked at Gervas's group with both shock and pity.

Ooooh!

"Commander-in-Chief's order: First assault begins!"

The conflict between Gervas and Willard was merely a minor interruption. The war machine, once fully prepared, finally rolled forward.

Upon the command, the first wave of noble troops lifted their prepped rafts and charged toward the Pearl River, a hundred meters away.

Roar! Roar! Roar!

From across the river came the beastmen's bellowing shouts as their conscript troops surged toward the shore.

When both sides reached the riverbank, the ranged units immediately opened fire.

Over three hundred beastmen hurled spears with all their strength toward the noble forces.

Sssss!

Plop! Plop! Plop!

Amid whistling cries, the bone-tipped spears easily crossed the thirty-meter river and plunged into the dense ranks of peasant conscripts.

Instantly, screams erupted in waves; the unlucky ones, lacking proper armor, were pierced cleanly by the bone spikes and collapsed, wailing on the ground.

This volley alone caused over three hundred peasant casualties.

Of course, the human side retaliated: "Longbowmen, fire!"

At the order, longbowmen drew and loosed arrows in a rain of death.

Moments later, screams and moans echoed from the opposite shore.

Yet due to the longbow's lower lethality compared to thrown spears, their kills were far fewer—certainly no more than one hundred fifty.

Half the arrows either missed or were blocked by the conscripts' crude wooden shields.

Overall, in equal numbers, the human archers still suffered the disadvantage.

But soon, deep thunderous booms echoed across the field, shifting the battle back toward balance.

It was the five siege engines behind the lines finally firing.

As multi-ton counterweights dropped, fifteen-meter-long arms snapped upward, hurling the suspended stone projectiles skyward.

One by one, stones weighing over ten catties arced through the air, screaming toward the beastmen's positions under the gaze of all.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Plop! Plop! Plop!

Muffled impacts rang out, accompanied by bursts of brilliant, bloody mist.

These were real blood mists—neither the Beastmen nor their conscripts could withstand the stones' force.

Even a glancing blow meant death or crippling injury.

And these siege engines fired scatter shots: each could launch at least seven or eight stones, nearly all hitting their targets.

Each stone killed or wounded at least three or four beastmen or conscripts; the lucky ones struck seven or eight.

For even if a stone didn't strike an enemy directly upon landing,

its momentum caused it to bounce and strike another unlucky soul behind.

This single volley of siege engines claimed over one hundred and fifty to sixty enemy lives, including seven or eight Beastmen.

This kill count surpassed that of the three hundred archers.

Of course, in open battle, the siege engines' greatest impact was not just in kills, but in the crushing pressure they inflicted on the enemy—and the morale boost they gave their own side.

"See? Our siege engines are firing! Charge forward and slaughter every last beastman!"

"Kill!"