Chapter 1214: Chapter 30 Great Alliance Marching Forward (15)_2

The soldiers in the first three rows already have their spears leveled at shoulder height, while those holding spears in the rear wait, ensuring they cannot retreat.

Like two combs with their teeth pressed together, the glinting spearheads inch into the gaps between the opposing spear formation, and the spear shafts begin to clash.

The soldiers holding the super long spears tremble as if their weapons are lightly trembling. They stare wide-eyed at the enemy faces contorted by fear, cautiously moving their feet, inching closer as they extend their spear tips toward the enemy.

When the spear tips are less than an arm’s length away from the chests of the soldiers in the foremost row, one soldier finally cannot endure it anymore and thrusts his super long spear at the enemy’s throat with a shout.

That shout triggers an avalanche, and the battlefield erupts in beast-like howls as soldiers from both sides jab their weapons at the enemy’s face, neck, and thighs.

Their formations are so tight that there was nowhere to hide or retreat. As soon as one falls, another immediately takes their place.

When the glinting spearheads thrust forward, the only way for the soldiers in the forefront to retaliate against their brutal fate is to lift their spears and blindly thrust back.

The use of the same version of the “Regulations” also resulted in another unexpected consequence: both armies had super long spears of the exact same design, so neither could claim an advantage in spear length.

No matter which side the Spearman was on, when he could reach the enemy, the enemy’s spear tip could certainly reach him as well.

Some soldiers, unable to accept such a grim death, resolutely abandoned their spears, drew their daggers, and crawled beneath the canopy of spears toward the enemy army, sacrificing themselves to stab the foremost enemies, only to be stabbed to death by enemy daggers in turn.

Meanwhile, a few armored sword and shield bearers broke away from the main formation, engaging in combat at the edges against enemy sword and shield bearers also intending to attack the flank.

Musketeers who retreated into the square also joined the melee, resting their matchlock guns directly on the shoulders of the forward spearmen to fire.

At such close range, with so many enemies, missing was impossible; every gunshot was inevitably followed by an enemy falling. The thunderous gunfire made the spearmen serving as a stand see stars and feel dizzy.

Some cursed out loud, some swore at the gods, some wept bitterly, some mentally broke down… but no one cared.

Lead shot soared out of the gun barrels, erupting with terrifying thunder; blades scraped against iron armor, creating nerve-jarring screeches.

These sounds were soon drowned out by countless others, as if the battlefield was swallowed by a massive vortex, boiling over yet eerily “silent.”

Because everyone could hear only one sound–the sound of death.

Humans vanished, leaving only beasts slaughtering each other.

This is the duel of square formations, a stupid yet genius tactic that minimizes uncertainty, turns battle into pure attrition, and reduces lives to mere numbers.

Once combat enters this stage, the outcome will be decided within a few minutes. Even disregarding morale, if this stage lasts any longer, one side’s soldiers will be entirely wiped out, and the other side’s soldiers will be nearly decimated.

Until the veil is lifted by the Victory Goddess, no one will know which side will collapse first.

In the very center of the central square of the Alliance’s left wing, Colonel Skool sat astride his horse, intensely observing the nearby bloody battle.

Lead shots constantly whizzed by him, as four other mounted sword and shield bearers held steel-covered round shields to protect the colonel, yet flaws were still exposed.

The square formation leader repeatedly implored the colonel to dismount, because even in the center, the distance to the enemy musketeers was no more than thirty paces, but Skool refused every time.

Through the smoke, Skool saw a soldier’s face split open with a ghastly gash, bloodied teeth exposed; he saw an old soldier with graying beard kneeling, stuffing his spilled intestines back into his belly; he also saw a soldier, only fifteen or sixteen, dragging blood and crying as he crawled toward the square’s inside, only to be mercilessly trampled by the rear rows, eventually motionless.

But none of these horrific sights were matters of concern for Skur Meklen.

Colonel Skool steeled his heart, coldly counting the enemy’s depth and judging who was advancing and who was retreating.

The two colliding squares were like two gears, swallowing live humans and spitting out mangled flesh.

The incredibly brutal war of attrition had only lasted a very short time, yet armored spearmen in the first few rows on both sides were nearly dead. Reserve spearmen were forced to the front lines, dying even faster without any armor.

Skool keenly noticed a detail: most of the breastplates on the enemy frontline double-pay soldiers had unrepaired dents or bullet holes–not newly added but present before the square formation battle began.

This meant this batch of armaments had recently left one battlefield, had no time for repairs, and were immediately thrown into another battlefield.

Considering the previously acquired intelligence that “Bazenaur had erupted in siege warfare,” Skool deduced: the unit of the newly reorganized New Reclamation Legion must have participated in Bazenaur’s siege battle.

However, his deduction immediately raised another question in his mind.

After the smoke cleared, Skool had counted the number of soldiers in each enemy square. He was certain that he was facing six fully equipped infantry battalions.

How could a unit that has just gone through a siege battle not have any casualties?