Chapter Seventy-Four: Forward!

"Who! Who's cursing me?!"
After shouting several times without receiving any response, Shaya's expression grew strange. He glanced outside the tent, then finally let his gaze fall upon the crystal stone resting on the bed. Suspicion and astonishment flickered across his face. "Could it... be you?"
In his mind, that dry, emotionless voice finally spoke again: "I'm right in front of you. Can't you see me?"
This time, Shaya saw clearly—a faint red glow shimmered atop the stone. The once dull, gray rock had transformed completely into a crimson crystal!
"Huh? The stone? The stone really spoke?" Shaya approached, gripping his fire fork, lightly tapping the stone with its tip, scowling fiercely. "What are you?"
"Damned wretch, your sword has drunk my blood, your body has been smeared with my blood, you've worn my scales..." The voice suddenly took on a hint of ferocity. "Do you still not know what I am?"
Shaya was stunned. He opened his mouth wide, then immediately pressed the stone hard beneath the fire fork.
"Damn! You're that dragon! You—you—weren't you dead?!"

※※※

The golden rays of the setting sun spilled across the mouth of the valley, bathing the warriors' armor and weapons in a somber light, casting an air of grimness over all.
General Adrike was mounted atop his steed. The massive scar slashed across his face almost divided it in two, and his eyes, sharp as an eagle's, locked onto the dense ranks of Odin warriors streaming slowly from within the valley.
This valiant commander of the Byzantine Empire let out a cold, metallic snort, and laughed, his voice ringing with iron: "Form up!"
At the general's command, the elite soldiers of Byzantium sprang into action.
The cavalry of the First Banner had long since left their mounts behind; now, at the front lines, they arranged themselves into two dense, elongated rectangles. The two battalions, a thousand men each, appeared somewhat thin in depth, but every soldier of the Thirteenth Legion wore resolute determination on his face—there was not a flicker of hesitation in their eyes!
The formation was swiftly set. The men pressed tightly against their comrades, standing as compactly as possible. The first row consisted of the strongest warriors, clad in heavy infantry armor, carrying shields half as tall as a man, forming an impenetrable wall. Their faces betrayed no fear, and their ranks were as neat as if hewn by axe and blade!
In the chilly air, the warriors' breath formed a white mist, shrouding the phalanx above.
Just behind the flanks of the infantry, the cavalry of the Second and Fourth Banners stood ready. Their task: to guard the wings securely, and, at the opportune moment, strike.
"Now, let me see just how formidable these Odin men are," Adrike muttered.

Adrike gripped his spear, his face alight with steely resolve. His gaze was grim. "Let me see what kind of three-headed, six-armed monsters it takes to devour a single banner of mine!"
From the hills on either side of the valley, urgent and deep horn blasts rang out. Soon, wild shouts erupted from the ranks of the Odin warriors.
"Roar! Roar! Roar!"
Countless Odin fighters seemed swept up in frenzy and bloodlust, furiously beating their shields, raising axes, swords, and great blades. As the horn blasts reached their fevered pitch, a single shout echoed—and the Odin warriors charged like a tidal wave!
It was as if a swarm of ants, dense and innumerable, surged madly toward the Byzantine lines!
These Odin warriors, hair wild and unkempt, wore mismatched leather armor, their weapons a chaotic mix of axes, broad arrows, and even sabers. Their boots pounded the earth, raising clouds of dust. As they ran, their weapons clanged and clattered.
Watching the dust rise, General Adrike's gaze grew sharper, his lips curling in a cold sneer: "Hmph! As always, the same old tactics..."
He raised his right hand, spear held high, and whirled it in an arc overhead.
With a resonant hum, about a hundred archers behind the formation unleashed a volley!
A rain of arrows descended upon the advancing Odin warriors, eliciting cries of agony. Dozens of Odin fighters were struck, some falling, yet these wild, brutal men were undeterred. Most, after being hit, simply snapped the shafts lodged in their bodies and roared more fiercely, charging faster.
The archers managed three volleys, the third so close that the arrows flew nearly level!
Three volleys from a hundred archers left at least a hundred Odin warriors dead or wounded, but for the ferocious and battle-hungry Odin men, this seemed only to ignite their savage fury.
Soon, the massed charge smashed against the Byzantine infantry like a flood against rock, sparks flying in all directions!
A cacophony of collisions rang out as the powerful Odin warriors hurled themselves against the Byzantine line. The shield wall wavered but the soldiers of the Thirteenth Legion braced their bodies behind their shields, while the second and third ranks pressed forward, thickening the formation, resisting the savage onslaught!
At the front, Odin warriors piled up like floodwaters dammed, blocked at the shield wall. The frontmost Odin fighters rammed with wild abandon, but what greeted them was the Byzantine soldiers' sharp spears, thrusting through gaps in the oval shields. Each command from the officers brought a coordinated thrust—hundreds of spears stabbing forward, drawing gouts of blood. Over two hundred Odin warriors at the front line were quickly felled, slaughtered before the formation!
Archers in the rear continued to rain arrows on the battlefield, picking off Odin warriors who followed in the charge.
For a moment, Odin warriors' roars, screams, Byzantine shouts, and commands echoed across the battlefield...
As the tide of Odin assaults grew fiercer, the shield wall at the front was pressed relentlessly, forced to retreat step by step. The soldiers fought with all their might. Before the shield wall, over four hundred Odin fighters had been slain, their wounded trampled into pulp beneath the feet of their own comrades charging from behind!

The shield wall showed signs of breaking. The Odin warriors, fierce and fearless, battered the line in wave after wave, leaving bodies behind, yet never wavering. Some even flung themselves bodily against the Byzantine spears with all their strength; others, after being impaled, clung desperately to the spears, trying to wrench them free…
After a moment, gaps appeared in the shield wall. The frenzied Odin warriors poured through, but those first through the breach were quickly shredded by the waiting Byzantine swordsmen in the rear rows!
Blood rained everywhere, flesh flew in all directions! The dull thud of spears piercing bodies, the scraping of blades against armor, the sound of armor shattering…
Adrike remained atop his horse, gazing coldly at the formation ahead. His expression was as stony and severe as a mountain, his gaze unyielding as iron. He watched his own soldiers and the enemy fall, listened to the wails across the battlefield…
Finally, when seven or eight breaches had opened in the shield wall, Adrike decisively waved his arm, whirling his spear again. At the sound of the Byzantine bugle, the remnants of the shield wall collapsed. The soldiers threw away their shields, drew their swords, and joined the Odin warriors in chaotic melee.
In this tangled, close-quarters slaughter, the two sides became hopelessly intertwined—but the Byzantine soldiers' elite training shone! The Odin warriors, brave by nature, relied too much on individual valor, descending into disorder amid such chaos. The Byzantine infantry quickly formed groups of three or five—some defending with round shields, others focusing on killing with swords. These disciplined units easily slew Odin heroes who had pushed deep into the formation. One by one, self-assured Odin warriors fell beneath Byzantine blades; on the battle line, it was a road of death for Odin, every step forward leaving more corpses behind!
"As always—just a mindless swarm! These Odin men will never learn to use their heads in battle..." Behind Adrike, a bearded Byzantine officer sneered, his broad shoulders and powerful build nearly bursting his armor.
Adrike's lips curled in a chilling smile. He glanced at the subordinate. "Enough, Socia, it's our turn now!"
Socia, standard-bearer of the elite Second Banner of the Thirteenth Cavalry, let out an excited shout and, with his guards, raced to the right rear of the formation—where his unit, the Second Banner, a force of heavy cavalry, waited!
As the infantry stubbornly resisted the Odin tide, employing sharp group tactics to hold back the advance, the line, thin as it was, was still being pressed flatter and flatter by the massed Odin warriors…
At last, when a loud bugle sounded for the charge, Adrike's robust shout rang out from the left flank!
"Advance! Rodria! Advance!"
His powerful roar, carrying the force of battle spirit, swept across the field. Instantly, every soldier of the Thirteenth Legion echoed the same cry!
"Rodria! Advance!"
With thunderous hoofbeats, both wings charged, shattering the dust beneath them!