Berserk, Total War: Second Son of Nobles

Chapter 398 The Power of the Netherworld

As the Kushan army's attacks failed again and again, John felt that the Galician army on the other side was gradually pushing the battlefield to its limit. His offensive became more and more fierce, and he frantically pressed the defense line of Acre. From the initial tentative attacks every few days, it gradually evolved into a round-the-clock charge.

The Kushans' intentions were self-evident - they wanted to completely wear down the defenders of Acre with endless attacks and countless lives.

Below the city wall, it was a bloody battlefield. The battle was far more brutal than ever before. Every time the enemy was defeated, hundreds of corpses were left behind. From time to time, a breeze blew, blowing the armor and tattered battle flags of the dead, and the bloody smell drifted into the air with every gust of wind, suffocating people. The corpses were piled up so high that from a distance, they looked like mountains of flesh and blood leading to the city wall.

The situation on the city walls was not much better. The Kushan army's artillery bombarded the high walls of Acre with all its might. Although the shells failed to completely destroy the city defenses, they left horrible scars everywhere. The thick stone bricks were embedded with charred bullet marks, and some battlements were directly flattened, exposing the internal structure of rubble and mortar. Although John's craftsmen and soldiers continued to repair it, it was still a drop in the bucket.

Not only that, the nightmare of artillery fire did not spare the civilians in the city. Occasionally, the overhead shells would hit the residential areas near the city walls and destroy the civilians' houses.

Finally, after an extremely fierce defense battle, Acre once again held its defense line and completely repelled the attack of the Kushan soldiers. On the battlefield, there was another desolate and brief silence. The soldiers either collapsed to the ground or leaned on their weapons to catch their breath, while John stood on the city wall, raised his telescope, and scanned the pile of corpses at his feet.

Looking at all this, John couldn't help but sigh. He lowered his head silently and pulled his cloak tighter. As winter approached, even in the south, John could feel the temperature gradually dropping.

"Luckily it's not summer."

He spoke in a low, murmured voice.

"Otherwise, these corpses might bring plague."

Although the situation on the battlefield was tense, at least for now, the soldiers and civilians of Acre did not have to worry about famine. The food in the warehouse was still sufficient, which should be enough to support the entire city through the winter. But even so, John's worries were not alleviated much.

This is not the north. By now, his territory must have been covered with snow. But here, the temperature is just enough to make people feel cold, and it will not affect the operations of the Kusha army on the opposite side.

John raised his telescope and slowly turned to the Kusha camp in the distance. He could vaguely see that the camp was still busy - the soldiers were dispatching supplies in an orderly manner, and the sentinels were patrolling back and forth beside the campfire. This scene made him feel even more uneasy. The Kusha people did not seem to be affected by the delay of the war, and they still maintained their vigorous energy.

John had no definite answer as to how long the Kushans' food and grass could last. Perhaps their morale would gradually decline due to wave after wave of defeats, their supplies might be cut off, or even the main force of the Kushans might not be able to withstand the long-term consumption due to being far away from the hinterland... But at the same time, it was also possible that nothing would happen, and perhaps the enemy was more tenacious and more organized than he imagined.

In the center of the Kusha camp, Galixiga was sitting alone in his simple command tent, his face gloomy, his fingers tapping roughly on a messy map, the atmosphere in the tent heavy and suffocating. The light of the campfire cast flickering shadows in the tent, reflecting on Galixiga's angular face, as if illuminating his anger red.

The battles of the past few days have constantly challenged Calixas's self-esteem. He has never suffered such a dilemma of repeated defeats in the wars he has commanded. He has been sending soldiers to the battlefield, but they have been defeated again and again. He has no way to deal with the enemy's strong defenses. He used to be invincible. His troops could easily conquer the land they set foot on, and they were crushing everything in their path. However, in Acre, this seemingly isolated city, it became the graveyard of his hegemony.

"Damn infidels!"

Galixica slammed his fist hard on the table next to the map. The map had been folded and slapped by him many times, and the edges were curled and looked tattered. The generals behind him stood straight, lowered their heads, and did not dare to talk to their majesty. The tent was filled with uneasy silence, and only the dull sound of the fist hitting the table echoed in the air.

Just as Kalishica calmed down from his anger and tried to sort out a clue from his chaotic thoughts, a hurried sound of footsteps came from outside the tent. A moment later, the heavy curtain was lifted, and a soldier covered in dust walked in quickly. He panted heavily, knelt on one knee, bowed his head and reported respectfully:

"Your Majesty, General Daiba is back!"

Before he finished speaking, Galixiga's eyes lit up instantly, like a long-suppressed flame ignited by the wind, and the domineering spirit that once swept the battlefield seemed to be re-injected into his blood. He stood up suddenly, and his cloak fluttered behind him.

"Is Deba back?"

Calixica's voice was loud and urgent.

"Where is he now?"

The soldier immediately replied:

"At the end of the road outside the camp. He just came from the north. Besides him, there is also..."

Without waiting for him to finish his words, Galixica waved his hands and said decisively:

"Let's go, I'll go meet him myself!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he had already started to move forward. Since ordinary means of warfare could not overcome the enemy, perhaps he could only rely on Daiba's magic to change the situation.

Not far from the north gate of the camp, he finally saw Daiba. Beside him were several huge cannons, which stood in the night like silent beasts, their surfaces covered with a bronze luster.

Galixica slowed down his pace, his eyes attracted by these huge monsters. The black muzzles were as big as the city gates, as if just a glance at them could make one feel the breath of destruction that devoured everything.

He stopped a few steps away from the cannon and asked in a low voice:

"This is?"

"Your Majesty, this is the heavy siege artillery you ordered the craftsmen to forge earlier."

Daiba spoke slowly, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"But considering it would be too troublesome to transport them here, I just brought them here directly."

He, Galixica, then turned his gaze to Daiba, with a hint of concern in his tone:

"How is your mana? I still remember the last time you failed. You were almost exhausted of your strength by those defenders."

Daiba's expression calmed down a bit, and after a moment of contemplation, he answered, "I am an old man after all. I have restored about 50% of my mana, which is enough to sustain this battle. But..."

He paused for a moment, his tone lowering slightly.

"The Water Snake God is unwilling to participate in this battle again. It was deeply traumatized by its last defeat, and it has developed a fear of the city of Acre."

"But your majesty, don't worry. Although the Water Serpent God has retreated, it is not the only one in the Netherworld. I have prepared other creatures. Although they are not as powerful as the Water Serpent God, they can still resist some artillery shells for the army."

Having said this, he paused, turned around and looked at the artillery, a cold light flashed in his eyes. He said softly:

“This is an offensive that is absolutely guaranteed to win. Whether it’s these artillery pieces or the power of the Netherworld creatures, they will completely crush Acre City’s defenses.”

Galixiga was silent for a moment. His face was grim, his hands behind his back, and his eyes were fixed on the cannon in front of him again. His breathing was slightly heavy, almost inaudible. Suddenly, a murderous arc appeared at the corner of his mouth, and a strong fighting spirit ignited in his eyes.

"Very good, Deb."

Galisica spoke in a low voice, his tone like the suppressed roar of a wild beast.

"I don't need an excuse for being a loser. All I want is victory. This time, my flag must be planted on the walls of Acre."