Chapter 3 – Story 118: Battle of Holmenia 11 – Wedge
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This time, for sure, the people of Holmenia followed the dinosaurians as they demonstrated their might once more. To begin with, Holmenia had something between 30,000 and 50,000 inhabitants. Adding several tens of thousands of refugees who had arrived in the city after fleeing from the barbaric brutality by the Romanian army and the remnants of the defeated Holmean army, the number of people in the city had grown to almost 100,000.
Even if only a fifth of these people were men capable of fighting, that alone would still yield close to 20,000 combatants. Moreover, if one took a closer look, they would spot women, children, and the elderly among the crowd that was now swooping down on Romania’s army. Given that, the total number of people who had joined the attack wouldn’t be limited to just 20,000 or 30,000. Even at a low estimate, their number should have exceeded 50,000.
Facing them were merely 3,000 Romanian soldiers who had been left stranded in front of Holmenia’s gate. As such, the difference in numbers was more than ten times.
However, although you could call it a numerical superiority, most of the Holmean people were simple commoners who had never fought before. If they were to clash with Romania’s army under normal circumstances, they likely wouldn’t be able to put up anything you could call a fight with properly trained soldiers as their opponents.
But, at this point, Romania’s soldiers had reached the peak of exhaustion. Coupled with the flanking attacks by the zoan, they had to deal with a frontal assault by dinosaurians. As a result, the command chain of Romania’s army collapsed, and the ranks descended into utter chaos. Given this state of affairs, there was no way the soldiers could demonstrate the skills they had honed through many years of combat exercises.
Moreover, the people of Holmenia were anything but normal. Having had their hometowns razed to the ground, their land and belongings robbed, and their family, friends, and acquaintances murdered, they had transformed into a mob that was burning with an unadulterated desire for revenge. In the blink of an eye, Romania’s army was swallowed by a tidal wave of avengers with bloodshot eyes.
One Romanian soldier after another was beaten to death by the common people of Holmenia. Those soldiers who were killed with a spear or sword were lucky. Even those who died after being showered with hammer strikes or being clubbed to death with dull farm tools were the ones who were still better off. All the others suffered a gruesome, horrifying death by literally being dismantled while alive, as they got punched and kicked while being torn apart by multiple hands reaching for them from all directions. Even knights in splendid armor were dragged off their horses and ganged up on. To top it off, not only young men, but even women, children, and the elderly had joined this bloody massacre.
While screaming out all their hate and resentment, they beat Romania’s soldiers with sticks, farm tools, pots, kettles, and so on. And before long, not a single soldier of the Romanian army, which had been left behind, remained standing.
Surveying the area, one would find several heaps of corpses. Moreover, not a single body retained its human shape. All of them had been torn to pieces, smashed to pulp, and blended with the filthy mud of the battlefield.
This appalling, tragic sight was a clear display of the intense rage and hatred festering in the people of Holmea. However, seeing what they had done, those very people finally came to their senses.
In the first place, they were common people who originally had nothing to do with battles. Now that they had defeated all the enemies they abhorred and escaped the spell of frenzied madness, they regained their self-awareness. And what was expanding in front of them as they did was the atrocious massacre they had perpetrated with their own hands.
Things that used to be humans were lying at their feet as lumps of flesh. The ground had transformed into sludge after getting soaked with so much blood that their feet were sinking into it up to their ankles.
Facing such a hideous reality, many of the people turned ghastly pale as they started to realize their own heinous deeds.
If only one of them were to utter words of remorse, it would immediately spread like a wildfire, and they’d all collapse on the spot. That was the mood starting to emanate from all around.
Meanwhile, a dark smile manifested on Souma’s lips as he looked down on them from atop the tower gate.
◆◇◆◇◆
The reason Souma had instigated, agitated, and induced the people of Holmenia to take up arms wasn’t just to increase combat forces. Rather, if his focus were on bolstering his combat power, it’d have actually been better to not rely on the general populace of Holmea at all. Amateurs who could easily be thrown into disorder through a bit of resistance and intimidation should be described as a burden. If that alone had been his aim, it would have been better if he had only selected the soldiers and knights available in the city to be added to his own forces.
But even while well aware of that fact, Souma had to make as many people from Holmenia fight as possible. After all, the fact that they had fought together with Souma would become a foundation for the country he was planning to build afterwards.
In the past, Japan had been showered with a lot of criticism for not shedding any blood during the Iraq war, despite having donated huge amounts of military goods and funds. Moreover, China’s refusal to forsake North Korea during the Korean War was the reason both now shared a Friendship of Blood.
Fighting together, shedding blood together, and dying together.
Those bonds were the simplest and clearest way to express loyalty and could be described as a form of an oath.
During the five years of rule in Bolnis, Souma had been forced to fully realize just how difficult it was to remove the deep-rooted discord and hatred between the various races. Although it had never become a serious issue, trivial misunderstandings between the races led to quarrels, continuously disturbing the peace in Bolnis to this day. Expressions like “As expected, humans are…” or “In the end, zoan are…” were prevalent and made one feel the gap between the races through the words spoken, even if the speakers themselves weren’t aware of their implied discrimination.
However, that was only natural. Not only were their cultures and customs different, but each race had very distinct differences in their outward appearance. From the outset, it was next to impossible to tell people to ignore all of that.
The depth of those differences couldn’t be buried by Souma and his people merely rescuing Holmenia from Romania’s atrocities. Rather, it was not unlikely that the non-human races under Souma would unconsciously feel superior for having rescued the humans. And even if that was merely an unconscious notion, the side on the receiving end would still pick it up. At first, they might feel thankful for having their lives saved, but as time went on, the humans would eventually develop animosity towards their benefactors.
If something like that were to happen, the country, which Souma had built at great pains, would fall apart like a house of cards.
What Souma sought for his country wasn’t a hierarchical structure between the rescuers and the rescued. What he required was an equal relationship.
Fighting together, shedding blood together, and dying together. And in addition, if it wasn’t a country founded together with everyone, it bore no meaning.
For this reason, a Friendship of Blood was essential.
But the outcome of having thrown the people of Holmenia on the battlefield was this.
It’s all my fault, Souma assumed.
The majority of Holmenia’s people were commoners who didn’t even know the least amount of decorum or tacit understanding during battles, which knew no military discipline. Because he had sent those people onto a battlefield where they were guaranteed an overwhelming superiority, things had taken such a turn.
After placing a hand on his chest that was filled with regret, Souma once again shifted his eyes to the site of the bloodbath he had caused, trying to burn it into his memory. At the same time, he could feel his heart thumping inside his chest.
It was because he had spotted just one person among all the people, who were hanging their heads within the bloody mud, looking up to him. It was a girl wearing a plain but conspicuous, pure-white outfit that resembled a dress. Even though there was quite a distance between him and her, he could clearly identify the gleaming seal on her forehead. It was the same seal as the crest drawn in the center of the big, black flag that was even now fluttering behind Souma.
While staring at her with his eyes wide open, the girl was slowly moving her lips as if to pronounce each and every syllable, saying――
――”Liar”
In reality, her voice didn’t reach Souma’s place. Yet, Souma could hear it echoing inside his ears.
“You knew that it would turn out like this, didn’t you? You were fully aware of it, right?”
The girl slowly spread her arms, presenting the scene around her.
“These are the mountains of corpses created by you. These are the rivers of blood spilled by you. All of it was caused by you.”
Looking at the remains of the massacre sprawling underneath him and the people in the middle of it who were hanging their heads, stricken by grief and shock, Souma clenched his fists.
Yeah, that’s right, he spat out in his mind. I knew that it’d turn out like this from the very start. I had predicted that it might go like this. The history of Earth has proven it, too. The ones causing the truly terrifying massacres and persecutions aren’t the strong. It’s always those who were once weak. The strong know the dreadfulness of power because they’re strong. They understand how to wield power. However, those who were once weak never learned it. Getting entranced by the power they suddenly obtained, they’ll brandish it without any sort of restraint. They’ll try to thoroughly crush all those who used to be strong in order to never return to being weak again. And in some cases, they’ll end up causing far more frightening atrocities and cruelties than the strong.
Moreover, I induced them so that it’d happen.
It’s clear as day what would happen if I threw Jahangil and his dinosaurians, who should be called incarnations of war, into the midst of a confused enemy who was divided through an encirclement. It was obvious that all rationality would be blown away from Holmenia’s people if they got hit with the fighting spirit of Jahangil, which should be rather described as madness. For this reason, I ordered Marchronis to persuade Holmenia’s people that the dinosaurians were their friends. And as a result, the people were tempted to be charmed by the dinosaurians’ violence rather than to be scared by it. Continuing to encircle a small number of enemies after deliberately splitting them off Romania’s main force with the zoan, who usually should have pursued the routed enemy main force, was all for the sake of offering those Romanian soldiers as miserable sacrifices to the rampaging people of Holmenia. Even the fact that we’re still not loosening up the encirclement to keep the people of Holmenia detained within the tragedy they caused with their own hands is because I wanted to thrust it right in front of their faces.
And just as I hoped, the hearts of Holmenia’s people are currently shaking. New values that are being pushed onto them and an ever-changing situation. Furthermore, the unfamiliar excitement of battle and the hind-sighted panic at their own brutality. Right now, the hearts of the people are greatly shaken by the changes assailing them one after the other. And because of that, they’re showing an opening. Or rather, I made them show that opening.
Everything was for the sake of ramming a wedge into their hearts.
“In that case, what is there to fear? Why are you hesitating?”
The corners of the girl’s lovely lips slanted upwards as if her face was tearing open all the way to her ears.
“You are a coward wearing the mask of a hero. A lump of narcissism clad in a raiment of benevolence. An egoist who pretends to be selfless. An expiator who piles up crimes. A slaughterer who talks about compassion. A tyrant who preaches love. A reformer without ideals. And, my beloved, deadly poison.”
A gust blew up from behind the girl, heading for the tower gate where Souma was standing. Fanned by the wind, her long hair spread like a large flower. Just her two eyes, tainted by exhilaration and sadism, and the seal on her forehead glowed eerily within the girl’s face, which had turned into a shadow, obstructed by her flailing hair.
“Now then! It’s time! While being the only one in clean vestments, sing your beautiful ideals on top of the mountains of corpses you created and amidst the rivers of blood you spilled.”
Souma was overawed.
It’s always like this with her. She confronts me with the reality I want to ignore. She whispers the truths I don’t want to hear. I feel anxious about how things apparently went just as she anticipated. I feel disgusted by how things apparently worked out just like this girl wanted.
But it’s impossible for me to stop at this point. The die is already cast. No, I cast the die with my own hands.
Souma took one step forward as if trying to brush aside Aura’s coercion. And then he leaned forward from the tower gate’s guardrail and raised his voice.
“Well done!!”
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