I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 21: Intimidate the Gods! Glory to My King!

When they rushed out of the town and advanced toward the defensive line, Niparmo’s soldiers had already launched another attack.

The town inside had been destroyed by large-scale magic, yet outside, the fortress cluster consisted of the first batch of bunkers in the Astal domain, cast from cement for actual combat.

These managed to withstand this round of magical bombardment.

But because the incident happened suddenly, many soldiers scattered in the trenches had no place to hide and were crushed to death.

Severed limbs and shattered flesh lay everywhere, rendering the scene like hell itself.

All the heavy cannons on the city walls had been destroyed as well.

Back when she was planning the defense line, Mitia had fallen into a misconception.

She had believed the enemy had no such assault weapon as heavy artillery, so in the trenches, in order to save time, few foxholes were dug.

For this mistake, she paid the price of nearly four thousand soldiers’ lives—a loss of more than half a division.

Fortunately, before this, Mitia had already reformed the army, assigning officers who had received cultural and ideological education down to the company level.

Under their leadership, the defensive line was quickly reorganized, and before the reinforcements Mitia brought could arrive, they barely managed to repel Niparmo’s large-scale assault once again.

Personally supervising the battle, Niparmo was so enraged that he drew his sword and cut down a retreating deserter, while deep doubt rose in his heart.

In the past, large-scale magic bombardments, when followed by infantry charges, had always been unbeatable.

If the opponent had no mage corps to block the magic, under massive casualties, nine times out of ten they would collapse and flee.

But why was it that the enemy not only endured but still had the strength to counterattack?

Before he could think further, the position ahead—which had stalled his great army’s advance for over a month—erupted into chaos.

In his vision, batches of soldiers were retreating toward the rear.

Niparmo froze, then rejoiced: “They’re retreating! They can’t hold on and want to run!”

“Legion Commander Luz!”

“Marshal Niparmo, sir, at your command!”

“Mobilize all cavalry units! Follow me in a charge and crush the rebels in one stroke!”

From the beginning of the war until now, Niparmo had not once used the cavalry force under his command, composed of minor lords, knightly classes, and the Royal Capital’s knight order.

This force of three thousand heavily armored cavalry and twenty thousand shock cavalry was his trump card for victory, and now the time had come to use them!

With high spirits, Niparmo galloped his steed forward, casting a glance at the glittering, fully armored heavy cavalry behind him.

Drawing the jeweled sword at his waist—

Clang!

Clang! Clang! ...

A dense chorus of blades unsheathing rang out.

The titled noble cavalry lowered their visors, reached for the lances carried by their squires, while mages began casting amplification spells, adjusting their state to the peak.

“Soldiers! Charge!”

As Niparmo’s steed began to gallop, the cavalry behind followed.

With each stride, their speed grew faster and faster.

With every step of the heavy cavalry’s warhorses, a soil-yellow ripple visibly spread outward, the ground beneath instantly hardening solid, only to dull again as the hooves lifted away.

Their immense weight crushed all soft tissue underfoot, crimson blood spraying across their silver-bright iron armor, staining the once-elegant engraved patterns with savagery.

Rumble...

The synchronized pounding of the knightly warhorses echoed like thunder, shaking the earth itself.

Charging forward along the path cleared by countless auxiliary corpses and meteor-like magical fire, they soon reached the last trench.

The golden light beneath the horses’ hooves gathered at this moment and exploded.

Countless massive rocks materialized and fell from the void, instantly filling the trench.

From that point onward, there was no obstacle to the cavalry’s advance—smooth terrain stretched before them.

The last few retreating Astal soldiers ran headlong into the descending cavalry, instantly crushed into scattered flesh, unable to offer the slightest resistance.

They were, after all, only mortal flesh.

Beneath the hooves of magically empowered heavy cavalry, there was no chance of survival.

At the forefront, Niparmo caught sight of the silver-haired girl standing atop the cement bunker.

Pointing his sword, he roared:

“Capture the rebel leader Mitia alive! Two ranks of noble title, ten thousand gold! Soldiers, raise your battle cry!”

At once, the eyes of all the cavalry behind him turned red.

To capture one person and be promoted two ranks—enough to rise directly to counts and marquises, to become great lords.

“Intimidate the gods! Glory to my king!!! Kill!!!”

“Kill!!!”

Overlooking it all, Mitia listened to the overwhelming cries of slaughter echoing across the mountains.

Facing tens of thousands of cavalry charging at her with world-destroying momentum, she instead closed her eyes and opened her arms.

“Kill! ...Ah...”

Boom!

As she closed her eyes, the bunker beneath her shook violently, then erupted with a sound that drowned out the cries of tens of thousands.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat...

From three bunkers in different directions burst four torrents of metal.

The clang-clang of bullets striking iron echoed through the skies.

Still with her eyes closed, Mitia’s face flushed red before their eyes.

The heavily armored cavalry below all suddenly stiffened, exploding into showers of flesh and sparks.

Enormous horse heads and human heads flew together, flesh and broken armor raining down everywhere—just as they had earlier crushed Astal’s soldiers.

An invisible wall was traced into shape by their blood, dividing this world into two.

Rat-a-tat-tat...

Niparmo, shielded by magic, and some mages barely managed to lift into the air to flee.

But what they did not expect was that Mitia had deliberately arranged two slanted positions just to deal with those who could fly.

Under concentrated and unrelenting fire, the mage corps that had just ascended to escape the killing zone were picked off one by one, shredded into pieces like broken eggs, and fell from the sky.

Falling to the ground, Niparmo stared fixedly at Mitia, less than a hundred meters away.

The deafening roar left him deaf to everything around.

Only when she finally opened her eyes, corners tinted red, did his vision lose its focus and dim away.

When Mitia lowered her arms and reopened her eyes, the world before her had turned entirely blood-red.

The enemies who had shouted and surged against her now lay peacefully upon the ground.

After a brief silence, the heavens resounded with wails of grief and screams of terror.

The cavalry at the rear of the charge were lucky enough not to be hit, but when they saw the blood-soaked purgatory ahead, most broke down in despair.

But the momentum of their charge had been completely spent, pressed on all sides by their companions.

They could neither retreat nor dare to advance.

Some drew their swords, hacking desperately at their comrades, trying to escape from the flanks.

Yet from the two bunkers on the sides that had remained silent came the crack of soldiers’ single-shot rifles.

Others fell to their knees, kowtowing frantically toward Mitia, begging to surrender, pleading to become slaves, beasts of burden.

Mitia frowned as she looked upon the remnants of the enemy on the battlefield.

As the machine-gun corps finished reloading their weapons,

the second round of concentrated rat-tat-tat once more dominated the battlefield.

With the resurgence of screams and wails, her furrowed brows finally relaxed.

A dead noble was the best noble.