Farmer to Soldier

His gaze eventually returned to the center of the battlefield—the area where the fighting had been fiercest and the corpses lay thickest, the position once held by the Militia Camp.

By now, it had become a scene from hell.

The corpses of soldiers from both sides lay piled upon one another, blood soaking into the soil and gathering into dark-red rivulets. The air was thick with an overpowering stench of blood and gunpowder.

The support troops and medics struggled through the heaps of bodies, calling out softly as they searched for wounded comrades who still had a breath left in them.

At the same time, some soldiers expressionlessly delivered the final blow to the gravely wounded Sauron soldiers beyond saving. With practiced skill, they also severed the heads of fallen Sauron officers and elite soldiers. These would serve as proof for calculating military merit and displaying their exploits to those in the rear.

Watching all this, Karl felt little of the wild elation of victory. Instead, his mind was filled with a calm review of the battle.

He had gained a clearer understanding of the Militia Camp's performance in this battle.

In the end, I still overestimated them, he thought.

If not for the Eagle Cannon's sustained bombardment, the three rounds of lethal volleys from the Musketeers, and the Minin Cannon's canister-shot slaughter at extremely close range, which had greatly weakened the Sauron vanguard's morale and numbers, the Militia Camp's own tenacity alone would hardly have allowed it to withstand the desperate charges of the Sauron elite—especially those Berserkers—for so long without collapsing.

His tactical concept had been to recreate Hannibal's classic victory at the Battle of Cannae. He had placed the relatively weak Militia Camp in the center as bait, hoping that after enduring immense pressure, they would retreat