I Became A Black Merchant In Another World
Chapter 424: The Beginning of the Temple (6)

The Toscani Empire's grand army faced off against the army of Prince Wittenburg, who supported the Protestant faith, on the Hallungen Plain.

The two forces chose the conventional tactic of engaging in an open battle on the plain.

Among them was the 8th Division's 2nd Regiment, commanded by Baron Florin, who had the heart of a beast.

Florin marched alongside his soldiers with light steps, as though he were on a picnic, completely indifferent to the dangers of battle.

It was as if he had thrown any fear of death away.

"2nd Regiment! 2nd Regiment, march forward and stay in step with me, your regimental commander! Do not fear, and advance!"

He moved forward with his soldiers as part of the line of infantry.

Up ahead, enemy cannons fired loudly, and the sounds of soldiers being torn apart by cannonballs reached the troops' ears.

Regardless, the Toscani Empire army continued to press forward.

In war, it is only natural that the unlucky ones lose limbs and get shot, heading toward Deus.

Of course, higher-ranking officers (those of lieutenant colonel rank and above) traditionally don't stand in the same formation as the lowly soldiers, following the proper cultural etiquette.

They don't even bother aiming at the soldiers—it's the least they can do to avoid getting killed.

"Other idiot noble bastards send you to war, and then they hide behind, sucking honey out of it, but that's complete nonsense! Your regimental commander will stay with you until the end! Together in death, together in life!"

The morale of the Toscani Empire soldiers was already high.

They felt a sense of duty to repay the emperor, who had taught them how not to starve to death during the winter, who had given them hope for tomorrow, and who truly cared for the people, day and night.

Moreover, the imperial army's educational system, established by Fabio himself (not brainwashing), was constantly reinforced by officers and chaplains.

Their morale far surpassed that of other countries' rabble.

But among them, the morale of the 2nd Regiment of the 8th Division, led by a nobleman with his own domain, was exceptional.

"I have staked everything on this war's victory! If we lose, my family will fall! So you must risk your lives too! His Majesty promised victory in this war, and if we succeed, His Majesty will grant you lands that you can cultivate yourselves!"

Seeing Florin speak, the non-commissioned officers and soldiers were moved to tears.

They would willingly die if ordered to stay behind with their hands «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» folded.

But seeing their regimental commander, who had come to fight with them, showed they were not the only ones risking their lives.

However, the officers wanted to stop him as much as they could.

"Regimental Commander, it would be better to return now..."

"I've been away from the army for so long that I can't command a large unit like a regiment. So, it's better for Major Alfeo, the deputy regimental commander, to take the lead. And you know, nobles get to enjoy honor because they bear more burdens than commoners. Are you suggesting I'm not pulling back and staying safe because I'm unable to savor the honey like those who stay behind? Is that the nonsense you're spouting?"

"No, sir!"

"Then march with me! If things go wrong, is there anything other than following Deus to heaven?"

Florin, seeing the useless words of the trembling commander, smiled and sealed the officer's mouth.

"Bring the regimental flag!"

Florin held the regimental flag in his hands.

"Follow me! If you follow me, you will surely win!"

Despite being a crazy man who had risked everything, there was no more reassuring figure on the battlefield than him for his soldiers.

"Enemy forces, 400 meters ahead!"

At those words, the soldiers were a little taken aback.

But according to their training, the range for muskets was within 50 meters before they would open fire.

Florin decided to give one last speech to boost the soldiers' morale.

"My comrades! Who is it that freed you from poverty? Who gave you the hope for tomorrow?!"

"The Emperor!"

"Who is the great one that ended the suffering of your families, who would have frozen and starved in the winter?"

"The Emperor!"

"Correct! And what does His Majesty desire from us?"

From Fabio's perspective, Baron Florin was addicted to dopamine.

He wasn’t necessarily a war addict, but the rush of war, the madness of battle, and the dopamine being supplied in such quantity made his heart race wildly.

"His Majesty desires to save the people of the Holy Empire, who suffer from hunger and despair, just as He saved you before! Now it is your turn to liberate the others from hunger and poverty! Fight to expel the infidels and the tyrants! It is time to repay His Majesty’s grace!"

The lookout shouted loudly.

"Enemy forces, 150 meters ahead!"

It was almost time to end the speech.

"Do not fear death! Those who die in saving the poor souls of the Holy Empire from infidels and oppressors will go to heaven, and His Majesty will personally care for their families! What you should fear is not death, but the dishonor of running away in fear like cowards!"

If someone else had said this, it would have lacked impact.

But since Regimental Commander Florin was standing there with everything on the line, his morale-boosting speech had reached a level of sheer intensity that only a war veteran could deliver.

"We will definitely win! Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live the Toscani Empire!!!"

The soldiers wept at his sincere speech.

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!"

"Long live the Toscani Empire!"

"Let’s liberate the Holy Empire from oppression!"

Before long, Florin’s regiment faced the enemy.

The enemy's less skilled unit began firing first.

But Florin continued to wave the regimental flag, moving forward.

"We will take a few more steps and then fire! Don’t be scared by their sloppy gunfire!"

Other regiments fought courageously as well, but the 2nd Regiment was especially fierce.

The army composed of those brought in by Prince Wittenburg.

Among them was Hans, a young soldier, who wet his pants in fear.

"Are those people even human?"

He had certainly fired his matchlock to kill enemies.

But the enemy was stepping on their fallen comrades, trampling over them, and relentlessly advancing.

Before even entering the combat range, they had made speeches, just like him, forcing out anger...

But once the battle truly began, none of them shouted or even tried to fake away their fear.

It was like facing a wall that showed no fear of death—or even any emotion.

Just as he thought this was an impenetrable wall, a soldier fell and bled out.

"Load! Quick! We need to kill at least one before they get any closer!"

Hans scrambled to reload.

He fumbled but had learned to speed up his reloading time to 45 seconds instead of the usual 1 minute.

Now he had to aim and shoot, but there was no time to think calmly.

The human wall was advancing with overwhelming force, and there was no time for leisurely aim.

"Die!!!"

His hastily fired bullet, of course, missed.

Some of his comrades mistakenly shot the ramrod instead of bullets, while others overstuffed the powder, causing their guns to explode and kill them.

Hans didn’t know it, but his unit’s accuracy rate was below 2%.

It wasn’t because the matchlocks were faulty, but because everyone had lost their composure and couldn’t aim properly due to fear.

Soon enough, the human wall of the Toscani Empire army (specifically the 2nd Regiment led by Baron Florin) halted.

"Aim!"

Despite seeing their comrades fall, the Toscani soldiers remained calm and aimed steadily.

Tears flowed from Hans’s eyes, and his already wet pants became even wetter.

He was scared, terrified, unable to move due to fear.

"...Monsters... crazy bastards... why are they not afraid of getting shot? What are they?"

Hans didn’t know, but if Fabio had heard, he would have answered like this:

"They know why they fight in war, and they’re soldiers who have received proper training, unlike you."

"Fire!"

The Toscani soldiers also missed many shots.

However, compared to Hans’s unit, they at least hit ten times more targets.

And as they alternated their fire, soldiers kept falling.

The incompetent corporal, the reliable squad leader, and the rookie private...

"AAAHH, MONSTERS!!! THEY'RE MONSTERS!!"

Hans’s scream echoed, and similar cries came from the Protestant faction's troops.

Before engaging in close combat, their army had already collapsed.

At that moment, Baron Florin ran into the enemy lines with his regimental flag.

"Comrades, we’ve won! Charge for His Majesty the Emperor!!"

That day, the Toscani Empire lost only 540 soldiers and had a few more wounded, while Prince Wittenburg's army suffered 10,542 dead.

Many had deserted or been injured, and this victory soon spread across the entire Holy Empire.