As the enemy soldiers came into sight, their armors glinting in the distance, Nathan's gaze honed in on the rear of the opposing force. There, amidst the ranks of mercenaries and battle-hardened soldiers, stood the formidable four-star knights, accompanied by a handful of four-star mercenaries and just two five-star warriors. They were a force numbering at 1200, more than double the size of Nathan's contingent, even when including the Silverbrook soldiers who could join the fight, amounting to a mere 500.
The field resonated with the clank of iron and the palpable tension as the enemy forces readied themselves for battle. The air hummed with an aura-infused command that seemed to emanate from the enemy's leader.
"Soldiers, on my command, charge! Magicians, cast buffs on the soldiers!" The order boomed across the field, and the enemy soldiers surged forward, a formidable wall of weaponry and determination.
Nathan's eyes flicked from the advancing forces to Baron Frostblade beside him. There was a moment of silent understanding between them.
"It seems the enemy leader is eager to test our mettle," Nathan remarked with a calm resolve. "This might be the perfect opportunity to unveil our new weapon."
Frostblade nodded, his voice carrying authority as he barked out orders to the awaiting soldiers. "Hold the charge until I give the word. Archers in the rear, divide into three platoons. The first volley, ready your crossbows with formation-imbued arrows. The second, prepare to load your crossbows. The third, stand ready."
Soldiers moved with precision, obeying Frostblade's commands. The tension on the battlefield was palpable as anticipation hung in the air.
"Now, the first volley," Frostblade's voice cut through the tension. "On my command, when I say fire."
Just as the enemy soldiers closed in to within 100 meters, Nathan nodded in agreement, his eyes locked on Frostblade. Without hesitation, Frostblade's voice thundered across the battlefield, his hands waving urgently towards the approaching enemy forces. "Archers, fire! Fire! Second platoon, fire! Third platoon, load the imbued arrows!"
A sea of arrows whistled through the air, their formation-imbued tips gleaming with ominous intent. Ignorant of the peril that loomed, the enemy soldiers, trained to raise their shields against incoming projectiles, did just that. But the moment those arrows met the defenses of shields and armor, chaos erupted.
With an explosive force that rattled the very ground, the arrows struck, unleashing their deadly payload. Metal clashed against metal, but the shields and armor proved futile against the fury of the formation-imbued arrows. Armor plates buckled and splintered, shields shattered into pieces, and a nightmarish cascade of destruction ensued.
The arrows not only detonated on impact but released a corrosive acid that seared through armor and flesh. It spread like a malevolent plague, engulfing the enemy soldiers in a maelstrom of agony. Their terrified screams pierced the air, a cacophony of anguish that reverberated across the battlefield.
"Ah! What is this? I'm burning!"
"Save me! Someone, please!"
"Water! I need water!"
"I surrender! Just let me live! Ahhh, my eyes!"
The once orderly enemy formation dissolved into disarray as soldiers desperately sought refuge from the searing acid. Panic took hold, and the nightmarish scene unfolded before Nathan and Frostblade's eyes. It was a stark reminder that war was as brutal as it was unforgiving, and in this moment, the power of their innovation had delivered a devastating blow to the enemy's resolve.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, painting the battlefield with harsh daylight, the gruesome aftermath of the crossbow assault lay bare. The once green field was now a nightmarish landscape painted in shades of crimson. Pools of blood mingled with churned earth, and the air was thick with the pungent scent of death and suffering.
Nathan couldn't shake the heaviness in his heart. Though he had spent six years in this world, his soul still carried the memories of a peaceful Earth. This was the first time he had witnessed such carnage, and it weighed on him. He knew, however, that in this world of warfare and conflict, he would have to find a way to steel his emotions.
Frostblade, ever astute, noticed Nathan's introspective demeanor and sought to break the somber mood. With a hearty laugh that seemed incongruent with the surrounding devastation, he leaned towards Nathan and spoke, "Ohoho, I have to say this, Prince, but these bolts you've made are truly deadly on the battlefield. What would you name these arrows?"
Nathan appreciated the effort to divert his thoughts. After a moment's contemplation, he responded, "Hmm, let's see. Considering their power and nature, I'll name them 'Acidfire Burst Bolts.' It combines the concepts of a deadly acid, explosive power, and the fiery or corrosive nature of the projectile. How does that sound?"
Frostblade's eyes gleamed with approval. "It's a great name. It conveys the destructive capabilities of the arrow effectively."
With that matter settled, Nathan turned his gaze to the battlefield once more. The enemy soldiers who had survived the initial assault were now scattered and disoriented. Some lay writhing in agony, their flesh burned by the corrosive acid. Others tried desperately to aid their fallen comrades, their hands stained with the blood of their brethren. The once imposing charge had been reduced to a chaotic and tragic scene of desperation.
Nathan knew that this was not the end of the battle. The enemy had mercenaries and seasoned knights among their ranks. They would regroup, adapt, and press on. As the Arcanum Legion braced for the next wave of the onslaught, the realization dawned upon Nathan that this war was far from over, and the Acidfire Burst Bolts were but a taste of the innovations yet to be unleashed.
The battlefield, once a scene of orderly advance, had transformed into a grotesque tableau of chaos and suffering. Puddles of crimson stained the once-green grass, and the stench of scorched flesh hung heavy in the air.
As the enemy soldiers witnessed the nightmarish aftermath of the crossbow assault, fear gnawed at the edges of their resolve. The power they had encountered was unlike anything they had expected. Whispers of dread spread through their ranks, sowing the seeds of uncertainty.
Nathan, his heart heavy from the brutality of war, turned his attention to his own troops. "Reload the Acidfire Burst Bolts," he ordered with a calm yet resolute tone. The soldiers, their faces etched with a mixture of determination and grim understanding, set to work.
On the enemy side, within a tent that served as a makeshift command center, ten figures had gathered. Four of them were the knights loyal to Archbishop Thornwood, their armor emblazoned with the emblem of their nefarious lord. The other six were mercenaries who had been drawn into this conflict by the promise of riches.
Amidst the group, one of the five-star mercenaries stood up abruptly, his eyes narrowing in concern. He addressed the leader of their mercenary band, a core star who had seen his fair share of battles.
"Boss, something's gone wrong," he said with a sense of urgency.
The leader, a grizzled veteran, regarded him sternly. "Explain."
The panting mercenary tried to catch his breath before delivering the grim news. "Boss, the 400 soldiers we sent for the charge… they're gone. Only five of them survived, and they're maimed for life. We had to amputate their limbs."
The leader's eyes widened in disbelief and anger. "What happened out there? How could our forces be obliterated in just half an hour, with such few survivors?"
The messenger struggled to convey the horror he had witnessed. "They used some kind of arrows, boss. These arrows made deafening noises and shattered our shields on impact. And then… they released a lethal corrosive liquid that spread up to three meters. It melted through our armor, boss."
The leader's face contorted in a mix of rage and fear. He knew that they had underestimated their opponent gravely. Turning to his comrades, he declared, "Come, let us see this for ourselves."
The group exited their tent and made their way to the front lines, where the once-ordered formation of their forces had devolved into a nightmarish scene of carnage. The knights of Thornwood and the mercenaries watched in grim silence as the reality of their situation unfolded before them. The field was a testament to the destructive power of the Acidfire Burst Bolts, and the enemy soldiers who had survived were now scattered and traumatized.
This turn of events had shifted the balance of power on the battlefield, and the true horrors of war had been laid bare. As the leaders of the enemy forces stared at the gruesome aftermath, they knew that they faced an opponent unlike any they had encountered before, and the battle was far from over.
As the enemy leaders huddled together, their faces etched with determination and a hint of desperation, they embarked on an hour-long discussion to devise a counterattack strategy. Tensions ran high, but their resolve was unshaken.
Finally, one of the mercenary leaders shouted commands to the assembled soldiers. "All soldiers, prepare to charge! Use your aura if needed! Magicians, cease the buffs and switch to casting fireball spells!" The soldiers, though still haunted by the horrors they had witnessed earlier, readied themselves for the impending assault.
With unwavering determination, the remaining 800 enemy soldiers surged forward, closing the gap between themselves and Nathan's Arcanum Legion. The ground beneath them trembled with the thunderous approach of their impending charge.
Baron Frostblade, quick to respond, shouted orders to his own troops. "Archers, stand ready to fire on my command!" The tension on the battlefield was palpable as the two forces hurtled towards each other.
The enemy leader, having learned from their previous encounter with the Acidfire Burst Bolts, was prepared this time. With a resounding command, he directed his magicians to release torrents of fireball spells toward the incoming volley of arrows. Fireballs streaked through the air, colliding with the formation-imbued bolts.
As the enemy leader, his eyes filled with determination, directed his magicians to unleash torrents of fireball spells toward the incoming volley of arrows, a fiery tempest erupted in the sky. Fireballs streaked through the air, trailing tails of crimson and gold, and collided with the formation-imbued bolts. The collision produced a breathtaking display of elemental warfare, with bursts of flame and explosions that momentarily transformed the battlefield into a chaotic, blazing inferno. The deafening roar of the fiery clash echoed across the war-torn landscape, creating a stark and fiery tableau of impending conflict.
Nathan, watching this unfold, acted swiftly. He ordered Barch and Frostblade to ready the soldiers and position the archers to the rear lines. The soldiers responded to the orders, their training and discipline shining through even in the face of overwhelming odds.
The enemy soldiers were now dangerously close, a mere 100 meters away. Nathan knew that the Arcanum Legion couldn't afford to be on the defensive any longer. With a powerful surge of mana, he imbued his voice with authority, commanding, "Soldiers, charge!"
The ground quaked as both forces hurtled toward each other, the clash of steel and the eruption of magic imminent. The battlefield, once bathed in the eerie glow of fire and destruction, now awaited the fury of battle as the enemy charged headlong into the ranks of the Arcanum Legion.