Omission 10 (1/2)

*Haaaaa-HOOOOOOOOOOM Haaa-HOOOOM HA-HOOOOOOOM*

The sound of a deep, loud tone resounded through the Rainy Woodlands, followed swiftly by several more identical notes.

The Echoes of War have filled you with courage. Glory to the Empire!

Increases resistance to mental status effects by 20% for 60 minutes.

Private Cohen Thomson tightened the grip on his spear and clenched the fist on his shield-bearing hand.

“Greater Blessing of the Sun!”

Following the unified chant of several Priests at his back, Thomson felt the familiar warmth of holy magic filling his body. And judging from the radiant glow that enveloped his entire unit, he was hardly the only one.

You are now under the effects of Greater Blessing of the Sun. Maximum HP +300. Healing received increased by 20%.

The effect will last for 60 minutes or until it is overridden by another Blessing.

Thomson cast a gaze up at the noon sky in a moment of bewilderment. How the heck were he and his colleagues receiving energy from the sun if it was hidden by so many thick clouds? Stranger still, how come those Priests could borrow power from the Sun God Solus even though they were all supposed to be Apostles of Justice in service to Teresa? He briefly remembered receiving some sermon regarding how ‘the sun does not pick favorites’ or something like that, but quickly cleared his mind of such idle thoughts.

“Company! Forward!”

The Sergeant, an old war dog named Smith, raised both his sword and his voice, and the entire 120-man unit stepped forward as one, Thomson included. As one of the frontmost row of the formation, he passed through the forest undergrowth while a column of his comrades followed close behind. With horns blaring behind him and the Rainy Woodlands rapidly thinning out in front, he and his fellow soldiers soon started emerging onto a grassy, uneven clearing. For the second time in a few days, Thomson found himself unusually happy to see an area so utterly devoid of blasted trees.

“Form ranks! Form ranks!”

Following the commanding officer’s instructions, he and his comrades quickly rebuilt their rectangular formation just outside the cover of the forest. Both to his left and right, the Private could see more and more Imperial companies emerging from the woods with a steady gait, and he was certain the units behind his would follow soon. And some 300 or so meters in front of him stood a wall that, by all means, really shouldn’t have been there. Granted, he was neither an officer nor a strategist, and had trouble reading maps to boot, but he distinctly remembered talk of how that city didn’t have any defensive fortifications. That was why the familiar sight of siege equipment was absent during their long march in the first place.

Leave it to those crafty twigs, to build all that in less than a month, he thought in half-admiration. Almost makes me regret having to help tear it down.

He then reached up to his forehead and lowered the visor on his helmet.

Almost.

The Sergeant then began doing a little speech in a loud, clear voice, but Thomson didn’t really hear any of the words. He was sure that guy was being all inspirational and shit, but such gestures did little to raise his fighting spirit. After all, how could a mere man compare to the divine voice of Jonas Charlton. He was sure he could charge that little fence and tear it down with his bare hands, if only he had the chance to hear that indescribable song once more.

Unfortunately, he was one of the few people around who knew such a thing would never happen. After all, he was among the first to discover the gruesome scene where Charlton was murdered. Some might argue that since there was no body, that didn’t necessarily mean the man was dead, but the copious amounts of blood on the ripped up bed said otherwise. The fact that many of his personal effects had been shamelessly stolen on top of that was simply adding insult to injury.

His superiors immediately issued a gag order on the whole thing, under penalty of dishonorable discharge. Thomson thought the dishonorable ones were them, but he listened to orders and kept his mouth shut. There was also the matter of exactly who had killed the genius performer and how. Well, it was undoubtedly one of those filthy twigs that would murder an artist in cold blood like that, but the idea that an enemy spy or assassin had infiltrated their ranks was not a pleasant one. Neither was it something that Thomson would entertain further. He trusted in his squadmates and he trusted in his commanders, and that’s all there was to it.

That sort of unpleasant business was beyond his pay grade as a simple footman anyway. All that mattered to him was that a talented Imperial citizen had been gruesomely murdered and that he would make those blasted twigs pay for doing so. That was all the motivation he needed, and he was itching for a fight even more because of it.

“-and so it falls to us!” shouted the Sergeant as he was wrapping up his little speech. “We shall show those cowards what it means to face the might of the Empire!”

“Ooorah!”

“For the glory of the Emperor! All hail!”

“Hail! Hail! Hail!”

Similar ovations coming in from the surrounding units caused the chilly atmosphere to rapidly heat up. Up in the distance, Thomson could barely make out the enemy forming their own defensive lines atop that wall, as well as on the gatehouses and turrets placed along it.

*HAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*

A tense few moments later a war horn much louder than the ones from before washed over the Imperial soldiers. Unlike those morale-fortifying magic items dubbed Echoes of War, this one was nothing more than a simple instrument used merely as a signal.

“Advaaaance!” came the command.

“Oorah!” responded the soldiers.

And thus begun their march. For some, it would be their first. For many, it would be their last. But none of them showed a single sign of hesitation as they strode forward, shoulder to shoulder with their comrades-in-arms. Their greaves sank into the muddy ground, still wet from yesterday’s downpour as the nearly pure-white wall gradually became taller. Slowly but surely, the 300 meters between the two armies grew smaller as the Empire closed in from all sides.

At around the 260 meter mark, when the frontmost row of humans were well and truly separated from the cover of the forest, the elves atop the wall finally showed signs of movement.

“Porcupine!”

The single word from the commanding officer caused his men to spring into action. Ranks were tightened and shields were raised as the 80 Warriors and Paladins of Thomson’s vanguard unit assumed the formation. In the blink of an eye the 10 loose rows became a steel box as their rectangular greatshields hid them almost completely from view, providing physical cover for themselves as well as the magical support troops. The numerous spears poking through the gaps in the shields completed the shape that gave this composition its name.

Being at the very front, Thomson was able to peek through the gaps in the formations and spot numerous flashes of red light coming from the top of the enemy ramparts. What followed was a sea of arrows that rose up into the air, threatening to blot out what little sunlight managed to poke through the clouds.

“Brace!”

The entire unit hunkered down behind their shields, with the magic users taking cover in the gaps between the heavily armored soldiers. However, the latter did not deploy any defensive magic as the order to do so had not been issued. As someone who had taken part in taking down a series of smaller Republic fortifications along the border, the Sergeant knew full well that the incoming projectiles were a threat. However, they were not dangerous enough to expend MP over. The true battle would begin once his unit was 30 to 40 meters from the wall, as that was typically when the shorter-ranged but much more devastating Spells would start being flung by both sides. Therefore, all the Imperials had to do at this stage was to close the gap while receiving the elves’ ‘hospitality.’

Just as expected, the first volley of steel-tipped projectiles crashed against the porcupine formation doing little-to-no-damage. Some of the arrows embedded themselves in the metal shields, a few others broke through some of the gaps, but the majority of them were deflected without issue. Mere seconds later came the second volley. The third and fourth ones followed soon after as the Republic Legions’ vaunted Scouting corps pelted the Imperial soldiers in a literal hail of arrows.

“Company! Forward!”

Moving as one, Thomson and his fellow soldiers roused from their semi-kneeling position and started walking forward with a steady, practiced pace without breaking the formation. For the next 200 meters, their entire world would consist of nothing but the backs of their comrades and the sounds of arrows banging on the shields overhead. Even if they tried, however, their lateral movement inevitably created gaps in their defenses, causing more and more arrows to find their way through. Some of those errant shots found their mark and struck a lightly armored magic user, while others bounced off the vanguards’ steel plating. Healing Spells were thrown about as the unit endured the onslaught. Even if their attacks appeared to be lackluster to a layman, the enemy Rangers were by no means to be taken lightly as they turned the advancing porcupine into a pincushion.

Private Thomson, being at the very front of the formation, was extremely aware of that fact. Numerous pointed dents were visible on the inner side of his shield, which steadily grew heavier. Whether that was due to all the impacts his left arm had to bear or the combined weight of the arrowheads lodged into it was impossible to tell at this point. He could not tell how far he’d walked either, as peeking out from behind his shield was a risk not worth taking.

A lesson the man to his left had learned the hard way, as an arrow had struck him just as he did so. It flew through an open space that was only a few centimeters wide, pierced his helmet and struck his forehead. If it wasn’t for the armor lessening the impact, he was sure that shot would’ve bore clean through his head instead of leaving him with a head wound. The injured man promptly received healing from the Paladin behind him and kept pushing forward while groaning about the ‘lucky shot.’

But Thomson did not believe it was a lucky shot at all. His skirmishes with those twigs leading up to this point were very indicative of their skill with the bow and arrow. Indeed, judging by the impacts transmitted to his shield-bearing arm, the twigs were aiming almost exclusively at the edges of his shield at around the soldier's’ eye level. The power behind each shot was no joke either, as it would have definitely shredded the sheet of metal on the Private’s left forearm if it wasn’t magically fortified. The man therefore kept his head firmly hidden from view, trusting in his Sergeant to lead him to the enemy.

Just then, there was a brief, unnatural pause in the near-constant barrage. The momentary lapse of incoming projectiles had caused the unit to pick up the pace for several steps before they were stopped dead in their tracks by the Sergeant.

“Braaaace!”

The unit moved as one, going down to one knee and keeping their heads low. The soldiers at the edges firmly planted their shields in the soft mud, while those in the middle tightened the ‘ceiling’ as best they could.

*DODODODODONNN*

A series of explosions rang out all around the Private as the Republic’s newly-developed Boom-tubes augmented by their Rangers’ Multishot peppered the Imperial forces. Various shock waves rattled his bones and metal fragments pinged fiercely off his shield and standard-issue plate armor. His comrades weren’t as lucky, however, as groans and yells of pain rose around him. It was only inevitable that some of the countless jagged shards would find their way through the cracks in the soldiers’ defences and embed themselves in their flesh.

“Group heal! Group heal!” commanded the leader as the shock from the intense onslaught let up.

The Priests and Druids in the unit began applying large-scale healing magic as the familiar rain of considerably less explosive arrows resumed. Thomson shared a few sideways glances with his comrades, all of whom seemed to want to ask ‘What the hell was that?!’ but none of them dared to speak up.

“Forward, men! Double time!”

The trained soldiers unrooted themselves from their position and moved towards the enemy at a much faster pace than before. It was risky as the added bobbing and weaving loosened their formation even further, but the Sergeant could not afford to have his men pinned so far away from the wall. He didn’t know what those munitions were and was inwardly relieved he made that judgement call when he spotted the enemy behaving oddly, as the power behind those weapons was no joke. His shield had withstood a direct hit from one of those projectiles and was now thoroughly mangled. He had no idea if the enemy had more of those, nor how many his squad could take before they were ripped to shreds, so he made the decision to quicken their advance while keeping a trained eye on the enemy.

Surely enough, he noticed another break in the arrow onslaught followed by a volley of unnaturally thick arrows.

“Brace!”