Chapter 91 91: endless tide

------------------------------ If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Brauzeit -4,2489 IC "Ulric, Lord of the Storm, strength of war, guide us in battle. Let your fury drive us, let your will strengthen us. Let our will be yours and let your enemies tremble before our might. For Ulric, victory will be ours!" prayed some of the knights and with some of my Ulrican men before what seemed to be a great battle approaching. "Sigmar, Lord of War, may your hammer fall upon our enemies with the strength of your justice. May the power of your warriors be reflected in our deeds. With your strength, we will prevail. For the Empire and for Sigmar," the same was happening on the other side of the camp with the Sigmarites. Outside our camp, which had already become a true wooden fortress among the felled trees, with additional buildings to improve the lines of fire, the situation had become increasingly intense. Over the last few months, we had performed miracles to clear the woods. However, these lands were plagued with abominations. It was a level of infestation we hadn't expected. We had destroyed three war herds of beastmen that had directly clashed against our defenses, but they acted as mere walls of flesh. They tried to reach our lines while the Ulricans and our pikemen held them back, filling the outside of the camp with bodies. But everything changed when we began purifying the monoliths the beastmen worshiped. With the help of the Ulrican priests, we destroyed altars and killed young ones and breeders hidden in caves. That audacity attracted entire herds. And every day that passed, there were more. Many nobles from Altdorf began arriving with their entourages. They thought this would be another one of those glorified hunts like the ones organized by the Margrave. But he was busy in Bretonnia, having recently conquered the Duchy of Parravon, although they suffered a crushing defeat when they tried to take Gisoreux. Unable to organize their famous campaigns, the nobles came to ours. With them came artisans, bards, scribes, and additional troops. For a while, it was useful. More swords, more hands, more weapons. But also more noise, more movement... and more attention from the beastmen. The more we dared to destroy their sanctuaries, the more they responded. There were days when we ran out of gunpowder without realizing it and had to go back to using black powder. Truly desperate moments, where thousands of beastmen attacked at the same time, led by wargors and enraged minotaurs. And yet... the last few days had been silent. Not a silence of peace, but the one that precedes a storm. When I move away from the camp, I can feel it. There are corrupt signs in the air, metal pieces infected by ruinous energy, and a gigantic group of beastmen that has gathered deep in the forest. I've gone out several nights alone, killing in the dark, strangling them with their own iron collars, searching for a particular creature. One that smells like excrement and rot, and that carries a staff that makes my skin crawl every time I get close. I've killed several of those repulsive shamans, but it's not enough. Not with the magnitude of what's coming. And the worst... many nobles, upon learning what we were truly facing, packed their things and fled. With them went their servants, soldiers, and entire retinues, leaving us almost alone to face what promises to be one of the toughest battles of our lives. Now, we can only count on the Ulricans and the local lords who have joined us in the face of danger. The rest... has already chosen its path. This is how an army of almost 14,000 men was formed, occupying the fortification with several defensive layers that we have extended, which will now be used against who knows how many beastmen will launch at us at any moment. Fortunately, I was well-stocked with gunpowder and lead ammunition. The muskets would not stop firing, and with over three thousand musketeers in line, at least we could ensure thousands of casualties before they reached us. I felt a huge amount of energy beginning to concentrate ahead. It was dense, corrupt, unnatural. There was no doubt: it was Dhar. Some dark sorcerer was preparing to unleash his magic in front of us. "Captain, are you prepared?" I said, looking at the leader of the Ulrican knights who were with us. "Victory will be ours... FOR ULRIC!" the captain roared, with a fanatical conviction that contrasted with the visible fear on many other faces. "Whatever happens, it's been a pleasure," I said, staring at the forest, feeling how the metal fragments began to vibrate slightly around me. "Same here. It's been an honor fighting by your side... even if you're a Sigmarite," replied the captain, drawing his sword and moving to prepare to defend the main entrance. Fortunately, there were no more Ulrican priests in the camp. They had left recently to fulfill their religious duties. This gave me the freedom to use my magic if necessary, and seeing what was coming, it surely would. "They're coming... Let's go, children of the Empire! Don't let your hands tremble! Today we fight not just for glory or for honor. We fight for the Empire of our lord, the first Emperor. We may fall today... but if so, we will do it fighting, with a curse on our lips. And they will bleed for every step they take! They will pay with rivers of their corrupt blood for trying to take our heads!" I shouted forcefully, addressing all those present. "FOR SIGMAR AND THE EMPIRE!" my men shouted, with their muskets raised. "FOR ULRIC AND THE EMPIRE!" responded the Ulricans, raising their swords. Then they began to emerge. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of beastmen emerged from the forest, almost a kilometer ahead of the camp. Thanks to our previous efforts, we had cleared that distance to improve the line of fire. But even that didn't stop them: they ran like rabid animals, growling, howling, and screeching as they charged toward us. The first shots sounded like thunder. Dozens. Then hundreds. Then thousands. A symphony of mechanical death rumbled across the field, mixed with the groans of pain from the beastmen who fell by the dozens. And still, they didn't stop coming. Our men reloaded quickly, using powder bags and bullets that we had stored by the thousands. Several more waves were needed before even one of them reached the first defensive trench. Many fell before, but when they reached the stakes hidden in the ground, dozens were impaled immediately. The trench, deep and wide, quickly began to fill with bodies, piling up on top of each other until their comrades could walk over them. It didn't matter how many died. More and more kept coming. When the trenches collapsed under the weight of the corpses, better-armed beastmen started to appear. Some wore pieces of looted Imperial armor, which made them more dangerous... but also more vulnerable. That's when I decided to act. As I watched the battlefield, I felt the winds of Chamon gathering around me. The amount of steel, lead, and iron in the area was such that I could mold the field at will. I manipulated the magic crushing the ribs of every beastman wearing armor. I made their breastplates compress brutally, crushing their organs. Or I forced the metals to bend and pierce their hearts like blades. In the chaos, those bodies simply collapsed. Many didn't even understand how they died. No one had touched them, nor had they been shot. Yet they fell, one by one, with broken ribcages or metal fragments embedded in their chests. Even so, the beastmen reached the second trench, and the same process began: their bodies quickly filled it as they tried to desperately jump over the great trench separating us from them. The few who managed to pass were immediately struck down by the musketeers' fire. But the tide seemed endless. Even with thousands of corpses already scattered across the field since the massacre began, I could feel new hordes of beastmen approaching, like a wave that wouldn't stop until it drowned us. After almost half an hour of slaughter, the trenches were covered with bodies to the point that the enemies could cross them by stepping on the corpses of their own comrades. The second line of defense was breached, and the beastmen began to fiercely strike the great door defended by the Ulricans. The musketeers, from the towers flanking the door, had the perfect shot to fire at the beasts trying to destroy the wood with their machetes and clubs. They fell by the dozens, but there were always more behind, pushing fearlessly. The door began to give. Although I secretly used my magic to wear down the edges of their weapons, the pure brute force was enough to break the reinforced planks. Finally, after several almost fanatical assaults, the beastmen managed to open a gap large enough to attempt entry. "For Ulric!" the Ulrican knights shouted, immediately charging at the beasts entering through the door. Their maces and swords cut through flesh, crushing skulls, and repelling the first invaders, while a new rain of lead fell from the towers upon the stragglers. The battle became chaotic. The beastmen began to infiltrate the first perimeter of the camp, forcing my pikemen to engage in combat to reinforce the Ulricans, who were already suffering casualties from the unrelenting tide. At that moment, I felt a different disturbance. A putrid stench mixed with the air, and a corrupt aura filtered through the ranks of the beasts. Several wargors emerged, all with armor marked with the symbol of Khorne. My attempts to manipulate their steel were useless. Unlike the junk armor of the common gors, these armors seemed reinforced with Chaos magic. With great effort, I managed to make one's breastplate close over its ribs, crushing its chest, but there were many more. And with them came several minotaurs. When those monsters reached the door, they destroyed it with a single blow. The gap that had barely allowed a few beastmen to pass was now large enough to allow the entrance of those gigantic beasts, who crashed through like an avalanche of flesh and horns. The minotaurs crushed the Ulricans with each charge, smashing shields, skulls, and bones. The scene turned into a slaughter. Only the almost suicidal courage of the White Wolf knights and the discipline of the Imperial pikemen managed to stop, at a very high cost, those creatures. Meanwhile, the wargors fought with an enormous ferocity, pushing our lines while being shot by the musketeers from the rear. Finally, when it seemed that we were starting to regain control, an even darker sensation spread through the air. Among the last waves, a monstrosity appeared. A gigantic beastman, with four arms, lifting a rock the size of a war wagon. "WATCH OUT ON THE WALLS!" I shouted. The rock flew through the air like a catapult projectile, crashing into one section of the wall. The wood splintered, several musketeers were dragged with the impact, and some Ulricans were crushed under the debris. "ALL FIRE AGAINST THAT!" I commanded with all the voice I could muster. I immediately felt the dark magic. That creature was protected by spells. I located the beastman shaman hiding among the rear ranks, waving his staff like a madman. I stopped secretly reinforcing the weapons and armor of my men. All my focus turned to the shaman. I manipulated the iron surrounding him from the weapons of his fallen comrades and impaled him with multiple metal spears, piercing him like an insect. I melted the metal from within, causing him indescribable agony while his staff fell from his grasp. The magic protecting the giant beastman dissipated. Confused, it began devouring the bodies of its fallen comrades, tearing limbs off and swallowing them whole in a cannibalistic frenzy. "IGNORE THAT THING! FINISH OFF ALL THE BEASTMEN WHO'VE ENTERED THE CAMP!" I ordered. The musketeers turned their weapons and, one by one, began executing the remaining enemies. When the silence finally fell over the camp, we all looked toward the exterior monstrosity, which continued devouring without stopping. We stood still, watching as it swallowed flesh and bone, until, suddenly, it began to run toward the forest, chasing other beastmen who were fleeing in terror. The air stood still. We breathed, exhausted, among the corpses. "For next year... I'm bringing cannons," I murmured to myself. ------------------------------ If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------