Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World-Chapter 303:

TL: Etude

In the military lexicon of this world, the term “urban warfare” had never appeared before. Typically, the fall of a city’s walls meant the loss of the city. Once the attackers breached the walls, victory was essentially declared, and the capture of city areas street by street was rare. Usually, the defenders either surrendered or fled amidst the chaos.

When Jace led the cavalry into the town, he naturally assumed victory was theirs, with only the task of capturing the fleeing Paul Grayman remaining.

However, the invention of firearms was bound to bring revolutionary changes to warfare, including urban combat. The Alda army constructed barricades in the streets of Saint Mir Town, using rapid-fire cannons to block key intersections. Soldiers equipped with firearms were ambushed in buildings on both sides of the streets, with groups of four or five soldiers where only one would shoot while the others reloaded, ensuring sustained firepower.

When the Duke’s cavalry charged into the streets of Saint Mir Town, they were met with overwhelming firepower from the front and both sides.

Their offensive power was limited by the narrow streets. To use a phrase from the game “Hearts of Iron”, the battlefield width was too small, limiting the number of troops that could break through in a single charge.

Particularly devastating were the cannons positioned behind the barricades. In such environments, canister shots proved incredibly powerful, each volley reaping a swath of lives.

The Duke’s cavalry experienced what the Ottoman army faced when they charged into the streets of Vienna in 1683.

Unfortunately, Jace, who had charged too far ahead, was tragically hit and ended up riddled with holes, horse and all.

…

After Jace and the cavalry charged into the town, Emerson, along with a group of officers including two mercenary captains, was commanding the infantry to rapidly approach Saint Mir Town.

Each soldier fantasized about looting the town, racing forward lest they miss out on the spoils.

As they stepped into the town, an unexpected turn occurred. From deep within the streets, the roaring of fire crossbows and thunder hammers resounded.

Soon, the cavalry that had earlier charged into the town appeared before the infantry, no longer in pursuit of the enemy but fleeing in panic.

It was clear to the infantry. The knights’ armor was battered, some even missing limbs, a stark contrast to their earlier grandeur.

Even a fool could understand what had happened. Cries of “Defeat! Defeat!” spread fear, quickly infecting the entire army.

The fleeing cavalry, uncaring for the low-ranking infantry, trampled over them mercilessly, focused solely on their own survival.

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Without Jace, their highest commander, the army, cobbled together from various lords and mercenaries, quickly fell apart, unable to mount an effective counterattack. Emerson, powerless to change the situation, bitterly spurred his horse in a desperate escape.

The Alda army seized the opportunity to pursue. Facing no effective resistance, the enemy’s cavalry quickly fled the battlefield, but the infantry was not so fortunate.

Under Paul’s command, the Alda army committed nearly all its forces to pursue the enemy. According to post-battle statistics, about four thousand enemy troops were killed, wounded, or captured at the Battle of Saint Mir.

After a headcount, Schroeder suggested to Paul, “Count, I suspect Marltz and Jace must have diverted troops from other battlefields, otherwise it’s hard to explain this sudden surge in enemy numbers. Should we inform our allies in the coalition to tentatively launch an attack?”

Paul pondered for a moment, then shook his head, “Not for now. We’re still some distance from Center City. Anything could happen on the way. It’s better to keep our allies cautious. I don’t want anyone else reaching Center City before us.”

At that moment, a group of soldiers brought a body on a stretcher to Paul and Schroeder, the leading officer saying, “Lords, after careful identification, we believe this to be the impostor Marltz Kent’s son, Jace Kent.”

“Oh?” “What?” Paul and Schroeder both exclaimed in surprise, not expecting to catch such a big fish.

Marltz’s military operations were mostly led by his son, Jace. His death would be a fatal blow to Marltz.

Paul gently lifted the white cloth covering the stretcher, glanced at the gruesome sight, and sighed, “Ah! If only you and your father hadn’t been so oppressive, we wouldn’t have come to this.”

He then ordered the officer, “Send Jace’s body to Center City. As for the others, the weather is hot and corpses could easily spread disease. Cremate them on-site and then bury them. Make sure to record their identities if possible.”

“Yes!” The officer saluted respectfully and left.

…

Days later, in the Duke’s mansion in Center City, Marltz Kent stared blankly at Jace.

However, his once promising child was now just a cold corpse.

He

stroked his son’s face, ignoring the thick layer of lime.

“My child… my child…”

The Duke murmured nostalgically, reminiscing about the times spent with Jace.

A loyal servant, unable to bear seeing the Duke so heartbroken, approached to console him, “Duke, please, accept my condolences.”

“Why haven’t you come yet?”

The servant seemed to hear the Duke muttering.

“My Lord, do you need something?”

The servant, not hearing clearly, moved closer to Marltz and asked.

“I said… why haven’t you come yet?”

The voice, like a beast’s roar, sent shivers down the servant’s spine.

Who? Not yet arrived?

As the servant puzzled over this, the Duke turned around, revealing a terrifying sight.

His face was twisted into a non-human visage, his eyes glowing a sinister red, and his mouth, with two sharp fangs glaringly exposed.

Frozen with fear, the servant no longer saw the dignified Duke but a monstrous creature.

Indeed, the monster, with lightning speed, extended its right hand. Its long nails, sharp as knives, pierced through the servant’s abdomen and emerged from his back.

“I will make you pay!”

The monster grasped the servant’s head with its left hand and ripped it off, blood gushing forth.

He immediately pressed his mouth to the servant’s neck, drinking the blood like fine wine.

“I will have my revenge!”

With a roar, two bat-like wings burst from the monster’s back.

“I—Marltz Kent, will walk the earth as a blood kin, until my hatred is fully avenged!”

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