High Spirits

The bloody "blood sacrifice" in the open ground behind them continued. Cries for mercy, curses, sobs, and the dull thuds of sharp blades cleaving into flesh and bone blended together, forming a scene straight out of hell.

The Sauron wounded who had earlier still carried the ferocity of barbarians and tried to provoke them finally broke down completely after witnessing their comrades hacked into bloody mush by the crazed recruits. They wailed and begged for mercy in stiff Broomflower speech, but it was already too late.

The recruits, their hearts consumed by the flames of vengeance and the desire to survive, had already gone berserk. They could barely hear anything, simply swinging their butcher's blades with mechanical, frenzied force.

The thick stench of blood in the air even drifted with the wind to the hill ahead, where the officers were discussing military affairs.

Karl cast an indifferent glance at the bloody ground before looking away. His face remained utterly unmoved as he summoned core officers including Brendan, Roland, and Lyon, gathering around a simple map spread out on the ground.

"Morale can be put to use, my lord." Knight Roland looked at the recruits in the distance who had been transformed by bloodshed, a hint of cruel satisfaction in his voice. "With this surge of bloodlust, we can strike Tyrol in one blow. We might even take it outright!"

Karl's gaze remained fixed on the marker for Tyrol Fortress on the map. He shook his head and said calmly and firmly, "It's not 'might,' Roland. We will take it! And we'll do so at the lowest possible cost."

He pointed to the section of Tyrol clearly marked "new rammed-earth wall, unfinished." "My plan is to concentrate all our cannons and bombard this area! Using solid shot and explosive shells, we'll