First Battle

The noon sun fell straight from the clear sky, sweeping across the shadows of Earth Mother and forest, drying the dew from the woods and grasslands. Today was a fine day, fit for battle and slaughter.

Xolotl knew it was a fine day too. In the Aztec calendar, today was the sixth of each month's twenty days in the Solar Calendar, symbolizing death, vitality, and life force, with a skull as its emblem. It was an auspicious day.

Thus, the commanders had chosen today to take the initiative and attack.

A lucky hour on a lucky day. At this moment, he stood atop a hill with Avet, leading four thousand warriors as they silently awaited the enemy's arrival.

Avet occupied the high ground, his commander's banner planted at the highest point, with a thousand-man warrior battalion at his side. The remaining three battalions formed a straight line across the lower ground ahead. The warriors sat on the hillside, their shields and War Clubs laid on the ground before them, conserving their strength as much as possible.

Enemy banners appeared within Xolotl's sight. First came scattered scouts, then village levies spread across the land. Behind them were armored, capped warriors carrying shields and War Clubs, and finally groups upon groups of Militia clad only in single-layer garments and wielding Stone Spears.

Both sides spotted one another. Four or five li away, the enemy commander deployed his battle formation. The warriors took up their shields and War Clubs. Five Otomi warrior battalions gathered in the center, while three Militia battalions on each flank spread out to screen the army's wings. Five Militia battalions stood in front, with four more scattered across the rear.

Xolotl watched the enemy shift formation. Their approach was to prioritize protecting the warrior battalions, scattering the Militia in all four directions to absorb possible surprise attacks and ranged assaults. The warrior battalions were kept off the front line so they would not become entangled with the enemy and find retreat difficult.

In other words, their core force was ready to run for its life at any moment. Xolotl was rather speechless.

The two sides faced each other across the distance for a while. Enemy scouts continuously spread out to investigate both flanks, while the commanders on both sides constantly assessed the other army's numbers and strength.

Avet's four battalions held the hilltop and remained on the defensive.

Xolotl could clearly sense the enemy commander's hesitation. After evaluating his opponent's strength, the man must have gained a measure of confidence that the fight was within his grasp.

After a while, the scouts on both flanks returned and confirmed that no enemy ambushes had been found within a certain distance. At last, the opposing commander began his attack.

From his high position, Xolotl looked down upon the battlefield, taking in everything at a glance.

The Otomi adjusted their formation again. Three Militia battalions on each wing began advancing and spreading out, with two warrior battalions respectively reinforcing them from behind, steadying the line while serving as the backbone of the wings. The three warrior battalions in the center expanded slightly and advanced behind five Militia battalions, while the rear Militia battalions remained in loose formation, screening the army's retreat.

The prelude to war was slow, perhaps gathering strength for its eruption.

Soon, the two armies stood only a few hundred meters apart, staring at one another from above and below the hill. The Otomi Militia howled loudly, intimidating their opponents, stirring their own courage, and venting their fear before battle.

The warriors had long grown accustomed to such meaningless threats. The four thousand Mexica Warriors on the hill remained on the defensive, merely rising with shields in hand and War Clubs gripped tight as they waited for the coming impact.

Two battalions of Otomi Stone Throwers advanced to the foot of the hill and began hurling stones uphill. The rocks fell like raindrops—and were just as feeble. Stones thrown uphill could not inflict meaningful damage upon warriors protected by Leather Armor and wooden shields.

The Mexica Warriors stirred. Facing such freely offered Stone Throwers, they felt the urge to charge and kill. Avet still ordered them to raise their shields, hold formation, and defend. The defensive horn continued to echo from the hilltop, suppressing the beasts in the warriors' hearts.

Seeing that the Stone Throwers could not disrupt the enemy formation, the Otomi commander withdrew them.

The Otomi advantage lay in their enormous numbers of Militia. To defeat well-trained Mexica Warriors with Militia, they had to break the warriors' formation and trap them in encirclement, continuously draining their strength until they lost the speed and power to swing their weapons.

Only then could the Militia use their crude Stone Spears to achieve an acceptable exchange ratio against the warriors. It was like using peasants to surround lightly armored knights without horses.

Three battalions of Otomi Militia immediately charged uphill, howling as they rushed toward the Mexica shields and War Clubs. Then they were struck, smashed, cut, and broken before the War Clubs, becoming warm corpses one after another. This pressure was far from the Mexica Warriors' limit. Their losses were negligible; only their strength was being drained, while their formation was gradually stretched toward both sides.

Three Militia battalions on each wing began accelerating forward, attempting to circle around and envelop the warriors from behind. This encirclement was more harassment than anything else.

Then the true main force arrived. Two Otomi warrior battalions pounced from the wings, fiercely attacking the flanks of two Mexica warrior battalions.

Only then did Avet issue the order to attack. Drums of assault swiftly thundered across the hills. The three thousand Mexica Warriors in front suddenly erupted with a roar, no longer sparing their strength as they unleashed their most savage assault. They stopped swinging their shields and instead accelerated the arcs of their War Clubs, tearing through soft chests and bellies, battering hard skulls.

Their formation swiftly pressed forward into the enemy ahead, and the front of engagement rapidly expanded. The warriors plunged into fierce battle, which also meant the commander had lost the ability to direct them—at least until this battle ended.

Once the true battle began, the three Otomi Militia battalions directly ahead immediately buckled beneath the pressure of rapidly mounting casualties and collapsed from the front, their organization dropping to zero. They had fulfilled their vital role as cannon-fodder vanguard and would be useless for the rest of this battle.

The two Otomi warrior battalions in the center rapidly pressed forward, brutally driving the Militia to both sides with their shields. Then, without giving the Mexica Warriors any further chance to recover their strength, they roared and charged at the opponents ahead.

At the same time, the rear Militia rushed forward as well and engaged Avet's command battalion, tying down the last Mexica reserve.

Watching enemy fighters pounce from all directions, their faces twisted as they screamed, Xolotl heard shields and weapons crashing beside his ears. Now and then came a sharp crack—the crisp sound of bones breaking. Blood sprayed through the air and splashed onto Xolotl's feet. Everywhere he looked was scarlet.

Xolotl's heart hammered violently, each second stretching as long as a century. He could not help looking at Avet, only to see a face both unfamiliar and familiar—hard, cold, and impassive—calmly observing the battle.

Every position on the hill where battle could be joined had been filled. Ahead, four thousand Otomi warriors and two thousand Militia half-encircled three Mexica warrior battalions. Behind, four Otomi Militia battalions harassed and pinned down Avet's command battalion.

At this moment, Otomi commander Giova still held one warrior battalion in reserve, two Stone Thrower battalions of elite cannon fodder, and four Militia battalions of ordinary cannon fodder. He had also sent men to gather the three Militia battalions that had just collapsed.

Giova stared intensely at the battle before him, searching for a breach in the formation, ready at any moment to commit his final warrior battalion and utterly tear apart the Mexica Warriors' line. A smile of victory gradually surfaced on his face without his noticing.

Before the smile could fully bloom, it suddenly froze. Two Mexica warrior battalions abruptly appeared atop the outermost hillock beyond the scouts on the right wing, rushing toward the center of the battlefield.

Seeing the two Mexica warrior battalions charging in from afar, Xolotl, standing amid the army formation, finally regained his composure. In truth, excluding the intimidation and Stone Thrower prelude, the warriors on both sides had fought for only half an hour. The true full-scale engagement had lasted only a quarter of an hour.

The Otomi commander now had a quarter of an hour to hesitate: either commit the final warrior battalion, along with every remaining Militia battalion, to meet the two thousand rapidly approaching Mexica Warriors, hoping that the Otomi warriors on the hill could break through the line first.

Or retreat immediately, throw the Militia to the Mexica People, and withdraw as many hilltop warriors as possible. As long as they escaped into the familiar mountain forests, they would be safe.

Giova made his choice swiftly. The first option meant gambling every chip for victory, while the second meant losing at least half his force. Looking at the advantage gradually gained on the hilltop, he hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth, desperately suppressing the ominous premonition in his heart. He ordered four Militia battalions to advance and temporarily hold back the Mexica reinforcements.

Clad in Eagle Regiment battle gear, Balda led two Mexica warrior battalions like a hurricane, charging directly into the center of four thousand Militia and engaging in savage combat across the broadest possible front.

The Militia howled as they pounced forward, thrusting long spears that scraped past Leather Armor and shields, before the warriors' War Clubs knocked them down and smashed them apart like waves scattering along the shore.

Their morale melted away like ice and snow. Yet the commander's banner flying high behind them, along with the thousand reserve warriors drawing near, still sustained the lowest limit of their courage.

The battle temporarily reached a stalemate, but Avet, atop the hill, revealed a genuine smile. Though slaughter still shook the heavens around him and blood flew through the air, he turned and joked to Xolotl, "The fish has finally taken the bait."

The slaughter continued for another quarter of an hour. The Mexica Warriors in front had been pressed back until they were packed together with the command battalion. Swinging War Clubs had consumed too much strength, and the warriors on the hill increasingly relied on their shields for defense.

The warriors on both sides had not yet reached their physical limits, and mass casualties were still far off. Of the eight thousand warriors locked in battle, only three or four hundred on each side had lost the ability to fight.

But when Kasal's five hundred Jaguar Warriors and fifteen hundred warriors appeared at the left rear of the battlefield, dark clouds blotted out every ray of sunlight in Giova's heart. The Otomi commander almost instantly lost all will to continue fighting.

The familiar tiger-shaped Beast Helmet was the nightmare of all City-State Warriors. Generation after generation of Otomi People had grown up hearing its terrifying tales. Giova did not believe those stories, but he clearly understood the dreadful combat power of Jaguar Warriors on an open battlefield.

The retreat horn rang urgently across the entire battlefield. The half-engaged Otomi command battalion quickly disengaged. Giova issued one final meaningless order, sending the two Stone Thrower battalions to delay the approaching Jaguar Warriors.

Then he abandoned the hard-fighting Militia and the warriors still in battle, fleeing into the forest behind and to the right.

Kasal sent one thousand Mexica Warriors after Giova. He then split off another five hundred to strike the Otomi Militia engaged with Balda from behind.

As for himself, he personally led the Jaguar Warriors toward the biggest fish of all—the four thousand Otomi warriors locked in bitter battle atop the hill.

The retreat horn reached the hilltop. The first to react were the four thousand Otomi Militia who had circled behind the hill to pin down Avet.

Without warriors holding their line, these seemingly simple mountain folk had already been preserving a portion of their strength. The moment they saw the Jaguar Warriors charging from afar, they knew disaster was at hand and immediately scattered toward the distant forest.

Avet's command battalion had just been freed from battle. He paid no attention to the Militia, instead immediately dividing the command battalion into two forces and using them to entangle the Otomi warriors more deeply from both sides.

Xolotl finally set his mind entirely at ease and began carefully observing the battlefield.

Only now did the Otomi warriors on the hilltop realize that the tide had turned. Led by hereditary nobles, they struggled to withdraw from battle while striving to maintain order. The frontline warriors fought ever more frantically, while the rear warriors began to scatter.

When groups of Jaguar Warriors charged into the Otomi battle formation from behind, it was like a stone cast into a lake, instantly pressing a concave ripple into the crowd. Then the ripple spread, and the crowd scattered like splashing water.

The remaining two thousand Otomi Militia on the hilltop completely collapsed. They fled screaming with their backs to the enemy, only to be cut down like Corn stalks.

The true casualties had begun.

With the Jaguar Warriors' backstabbing assault, their skilled War Clubs moved like a raging storm, striking Otomi shields, Leather Armor, backs, and legs, forcing them to crawl and collapse to the ground.

Caught in a pincer attack, the Otomi warriors rapidly lost all organization, and the army's morale plummeted. The Jaguar Warriors used battle cries to terrify them and force to batter them. Within a quarter of an hour, the great rout arrived.

From that moment onward, ten times as many Otomi warriors fell every minute as before.

The Otomi warriors engaged on the front line descended into their final madness. Then, quickly exhausting themselves under encirclement, they were knocked unconscious by the wooden sides of the warriors' War Clubs.

The Otomi warriors on the wings and flanks threw down their heavy Obsidian War Clubs and fled outward through both sides of the pincer, struggling toward the distant forest for the last thread of life.

Feeling the resistance rapidly weaken, the Mexica Warriors on the hilltop finally shouted in victory. They began showing mercy, using the blunt corners and sides of their War Clubs to strike the Otomi People's legs and backs, robbing them of the ability to move.

With that, the frontal battle ended. The Mexica People began pursuing their opponents, capturing enemies as easily as catching Turkeys. The great prisoner hunt had begun!

Standing atop the hill, smelling the thick scent of blood that would not disperse in the air, watching the Otomi People flee in madness, and listening to the jubilant cheers of the Mexica Warriors, Xolotl felt a surreal daze.

A quarter of an hour ago, the Otomi People had still been struggling desperately. Half an hour ago, he had been surrounded by the enemy. An hour ago, the situation had been slipping into disadvantage. And two hours ago, the battle had only just begun.

"Is this war?" Xolotl asked as he looked at Avet.

"This is not war." At last, a true smile appeared on Avet's face. "This is only the beginning!"

The protagonist's first battle. A big chapter—please recommend it.