The Oracle Paths

Chapter 1127  Ten Minutes To Pray

The two new legions of recruits were expecting a lengthy briefing on signaling methods for effective communication on the battlefield, like the use of colored flags, smoke, or sound instruments, but there was none. There was no joint drill to improve their coordination as an army either.

Instead, Ceythie immediately ordered them to march east. To the east, there was only one thing: the front line where the armies of the Dusken Throne faced those of the Radiant Conclave.

"Aye… I had anticipated it would go down like this, but I held a slim hope she'd at least give us this day off to familiarize ourselves with our new regiment," Thonzo sighed as he decided to remove his bandages, meant to hide his wounds long healed by Jake.

At this point, it made no difference. Jake didn't stop him either, almost convinced he'd be exposed any moment now if he wasn't already.

Being the only recruit among them who had participated in a standard battle, he had a traumatizing memory of his first battle. The feeling of being an insignificant insect among millions thrown into the fray was alienating.

His first battle had been a meat grinder of unprecedented violence, from which he had not yet recovered. Maybe he never would fully.

"Unless the Celestial wants to get rid of our boss today, this battle should be a walk in the park for us," Claire consoled him with her usual nonchalance. "As long as we're here, you won't die."

"By the way, boss…" Ekho coughed awkwardly, taking the opportunity to involve Jake in the conversation.

"What's up?"

The recovering alcoholic fidgeted nervously, then, gathering his courage, said,

"Yesterday, you stopped us from accepting the equipment provided by this Spirit Enchanter apprentice, claiming you could get us something much better..."

Jake gave him a funny look, impressed by his boldness. He had indeed said something along those lines.

"So. What's your point?" "Apart from Jashuzen who has his enchanted axe as a heirloom, we still don't have any equipment other than our old rusty conscript swords... Are we supposed to fight like this?"

"…"

The other recruits' gazes all zeroed in on him after this question, anxiously awaiting his response. Jake felt slightly embarrassed at that moment. He hadn't forgotten, but he hadn't taken care of it either.

Truth be told, for him creating such equipment was child's play now that he had regained a portion of his powers, but the poor recruits were not aware of this detail.

"Don't worry," Jake finally defused the situation with absolutely credible detachment. "You'll have your equipment before the battle starts."

It was just a few words for him, but although the other natives in their squad merely nodded, he felt their chests deflate with relief. It must have troubled them quite a bit that night.

Soon, the two legions began their march following Ceythie's command, the Great General fearlessly leading the procession with her close guard and the Division Commanders. Ceythie personally taking control of the second legion, the General of the first legion struggled to hide his uneasiness.

Normally in an army, the first legion was supposed to be the most competent, led by the chief general himself. Even racking his brain, he couldn't figure out what was special about this second legion, having previously forgotten the mental injunction Jake had deeply embedded in their subconscious.

As for the commanders designated for each regiment, company, and platoon, they had their own escorts and trusted officers and soon joined the armies assigned to them to command more closely. Each of them was familiar with the signaling methods, tactics, and strategies employed by Ceythie, which would allow them to react promptly to any changes on the battlefield.

Amy's and Jake's squads were in the third regiment of their division, which only had 5000 men. Their platoon captain was a soldier not much older than them, with apparently no intention of trying to control them. From his brief experience, he knew that by tonight, maybe half of them wouldn't remain. It was only after the merciless mortal sieve of the battlefield and the subsequent army reorganizations that proper regiments worth nurturing would eventually emerge.

The 1000-man Commander at the head of their company looked more reliable, his hypertrophied muscles, lion eyes, and vigilant frown making him more credible in his role. He was currently riding with other officers of the same rank alongside the head of their regiment, a 5000-man Commander.

In many ways, the latter had the presence of Sank-Uk before his downfall with his heavy guandao, but stronger, more imposing, more intimidating, more everything... The catch was that he seemed primarily more belligerent.

In a glance, Jake pegged him while a genuine Ironsoul Berserker, an Underworld Barbarian who truly enjoyed the brutality of the battlefield. Without having spoken to him, Jake didn't get the impression that this commander was the type to preserve his troops' health with sophisticated strategies.

Well, while long as we're here, there's no chance things will go south. Jake sneered inwardly as he continued to march.

As they neared the front line, the memory of the Battle of Havoscpire began to resurface, and the conscripts who had participated and survived quickly became more and more anxious, talking less and less. Ekho, Thonzo, and the another recruits in their squad were no exception, despite existing better off with four Players and a Soulmancer with them.

Meribelle had officially offered to defend their regiment, but everyone in their group knew she was there only for Jake. In fact, she was there for the Soulmancer King, but this information couldn't be revealed for obvious reasons.

Less than an hour later, a hastily erected tent camp appeared before them. A final rise in terrain loomed just behind, with war raging just beyond. Angry cries mingled with screams of agony and the clatter of clashing steel.

To spare them a bit, or conversely to show them a glimpse of what awaited them, Ceythie first made a stop at the aforementioned camp, which was actually a supply point and makeshift hospital for the severely wounded.

Some soldiers were devouring their hastily reheated meals with lifeless expressions, but most were covered in bloody bandages when they weren't lying on stretchers or outright covered with a mortuary shroud alongside other corpses. Several pits were existing dug at that very moment by healthier soldiers, to bury the dead before their flesh decomposed and exposed the survivors to disease.

A pandemic in the midst of war was the last thing they wanted.

Seeing this, many conscripts previously had blue faces, trembling like dead leaves. Thonzo's complexion was also ashen, himself having been one of those wounded lying on a stretcher before existing repatriated to Havocspire for his convalescence.

Ceythie led them to another vacant plot next door, where the order to set up a similar camp was given, then yelled loudly,

"You have ten minutes to pray to whoever the fuck you believe in, jerk off, get laid, take a shit, do anything that will allow you to approach the upcoming combat without stupidly dying out of panic."

The conscripts turned pale at receiving this respite, which sounded more like the final toll in their fearful minds.

"Boss, our weapons…" Ekho reminded him anxiously, even forgetting his manners.

Aware of their nervous state, Jake didn't take it too hard and headed without hesitation into an unoccupied tent to do what he had to do. His companions hesitated to follow him for a second, but eventually ran after him to see what he planned to do. Hephais and the two clowns, having nothing better to do, exchanged a look and decided with a shrug to enter while well.