Chapter 562: No Chivalry Today!

Hearing the squad leader's words, the other "Linebreaker" pilots chimed in with agreement. Up to this point, they felt quite confident.

Because from the White Army pilots' perspective, the caliber of the guns held by the Saxon Armored Knights didn't look very large.

That caliber wouldn't necessarily have an effect even if it hit the "Linebreaker's" main frontal armor, let alone with an absurdly thick tower shield in front of it.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The next second, three artillery shots rang out almost simultaneously in the distance.

Ludwig only ordered three Armored Knights to fire this round—his own Unit One, Unit Two, and Unit Three, each targeting a different machine. The three Armored Knights of the second squad remained loaded and on standby.

He didn't want to empty all their firepower at once. He wanted to observe the attack's effectiveness before deciding on the next tactical step.

The flight time of the shells was incredibly short; two hundred meters was instantaneous for a 77mm assault gun. Then, three plumes of black smoke exploded on the riverbank.

Behind his shield, the pilot of Unit One heard the impact.

However, it wasn't the CLANG! or BOOM! of a shell bouncing off the shield that he had heard for over a decade.

It was a sound he had never heard before.

It was a piercing, ear-splitting HISS! with a bizarre, penetrating quality, followed immediately by something scalding hot piercing through the shield and spraying directly onto the main armor.

A violent shudder wracked the cockpit, followed by an intense wave of heat radiating from the front main armor.

"What the hell..."

The pilot of Unit One, who was also the squad leader, frantically shifted his shield and looked at it through his symbiotic vision. A small-diameter hole had appeared right in the center of the shield.

The edges of the hole were melted and re-solidified metal, still glowing red from the immense heat.

The "Linebreaker" captain stared at that hole, dumbfounded.

He never imagined that the alchemically reinforced tower shield, which had blocked every field artillery shell thrown at it during the Second Crimean War, had a hole punched straight through it.

Even worse, behind the hole in the shield, a widespread scorch mark had appeared on the torso armor of his own Armored Knight, though he couldn't see it clearly from his current angle.

"...What the fuck kind of shell is that?!"

The comms channel instantly blew up.

"Unit Three's shield is penetrated!"

"Unit Five reporting, there's a hole in my shield! Torso armor damaged!"

"What caliber is their gun?!"

"This has nothing to do with caliber! Judging by the hole, the penetration power is just too strong. Why does it feel like alchemy?"

"That's impossible! Do the Saxons have alchemy now?!"

The advancing formation of the eight "Linebreakers" fell into disarray for the first time.

The previously neat steel wall wavered. The bottom edges of several shields lifted from the ground as the pilots instinctively adjusted their angles, trying to find a sloped surface that would cause the shells to ricochet, based on their experience fighting other artillery.

Two hundred meters away, Ludwig let out a long sigh of relief.

Thank the gods the enemy's shields were penetrated, and obvious scorch marks were left on the main armor behind them.

This meant the Teutonic Order's magitech engineers weren't bluffing; the upgraded "shaped-charge armor-piercing shells" actually worked.

Morin's philosophy of "all are equal before a jet of molten metal" held true even against the Russians' alchemically reinforced armor.

But despite his relief, Ludwig's expression remained tense.

Because after penetrating the shield, the majority of the shaped-charge jet's energy had been expended. What struck the "Linebreaker's" main armor was only a scorch mark and a shallow crater.

One AP shell penetrated one shield, and that was it. It failed to penetrate the enemy's main armor.

The critical issue was that the shields held by the "Linebreakers" were massive, covering most of their torso during combat.

"They really are iron turtles..." Ludwig muttered under his breath, watching the scene.

"My Lord, shall we press the attack?"

Another Teutonic Knight standing beside him asked via the portable magitech comms device, his tone visibly excited.

"Their shields can't stop us! We can close in for melee!"

"No."

Ludwig shut the idea down.

He mentally reviewed the effects of the three shells they just fired, and the sheer size of the "Linebreakers."

Honestly, these Russian Armored Knights had a silhouette a full size larger than the "Siegfried" series. They were essentially upgraded models with reinforced "composite armor," and their main armor thickness was likely on par with the Siegfried's.

And judging from their movement patterns, while sluggish, the raw power they contained was absolutely not to be underestimated—especially the heavy warhammers clutched in their other mechanical arm.

Ludwig had no doubt that a single swing from that thing could knock a Siegfried Mark I flat on its back.

Therefore, close-quarters combat was probably exactly what the enemy wanted.

"All units, attention."

Ludwig activated the comms channel and said something the other Teutonic Knights never expected.

"No displaying chivalry today."

The comms channel went dead silent.

"...My Lord?"

"Maintain distance. No one engages in melee combat without my order."

He articulated every word clearly: "We wear them down with artillery first. That's why we brought so much ammo. If their shields can be pierced, we keep piercing them. Once their shields are destroyed, we target their main bodies directly."

"No one engages in melee without my order!"

After a brief silence, five voices rang out in succession.

"Yes, My Lord!"

The six "Siegfried Mark I - Modified" mechs kept their guns leveled and began stepping backward.

Naturally, they weren't turning and fleeing, but executing a standard tactical fighting retreat. The Armored Knights kept their fronts facing the enemy, inching backward step by step. Simultaneously, the three Armored Knights that had just fired rammed another shaped-charge AP shell into their assault gun breeches.

The pilots of the eight "Linebreakers" watched this unfold from behind their shields. The pilot of Unit One suddenly realized something very bad.

These Teutonic Knights opposite them didn't look like they intended to fight in melee.

"They're running!"

The pilot of Unit Three yelled over the comms, his tone carrying a sort of self-comforting excitement.

The pilot of Unit One didn't reply.

He raised his punctured shield slightly, staring intently at the six Saxon Armored Knights retreating two hundred meters away.

That wasn't fleeing.

People fleeing wouldn't maintain such perfect spacing, wouldn't keep their gun muzzles locked onto you the entire time, and certainly wouldn't adjust the overlapping fields of fire of six Armored Knights so flawlessly while backing up.

"Hold, don't pursue yet," he keyed the comms.

"What?"

"I said do not pursue." The pilot of Unit One sounded reluctant. "We can't catch them."

This was the "Linebreaker's" biggest flaw.

The alchemical enhancement route gave them their shells, gave them the weight to walk along riverbeds, and gave them the defense to weather two Crimean Wars, but the price was speed.

The maximum walking speed of a "Linebreaker Mark III" was thirty kilometers per hour.

The Saxons' "Siegfried Mark I," however, utilized radiant crystal combustion engines and magitech hybrid power. Its overall design philosophy was closer to the Britannians, allowing it to evade early-era artillery at long range.

So, speaking purely of mobility, they were on completely different levels.

"Then what do we do?!" the pilot of another "Linebreaker" practically yelled. "Stand here and let them pick us off one by one?!"

"Our orders from the Commander are to cover the infantry establishing the bridgehead." The pilot of Unit One gritted his teeth. "Keep pushing forward, press their trench line. They either get out of our way or they fight us in melee."

It had to be said, this judgment was correct. After all, Ludwig's fundamental objective was to prevent the enemy Armored Knights from nearing the National Army's trenches.

But that logic was predicated on the two sides' Armored Knights being roughly equal in combat power. The White Army Armored Knight commander would soon discover that the flow of this battle... deviated significantly from his imagination.

Aboard the L15 armored airship, Morin watched the standoff downstream through the optical equipment.

He saw the eight "Linebreakers" raise their shields and resume their advance, and he saw Ludwig's six Armored Knights continuously retreating, maintaining the two-hundred-meter gap.

"General, are the Teutonic Knights avoiding battle?" Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia leaned in and asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. "They seemed to have penetrated the enemy's defenses just now..."

"They aren't avoiding battle; they're kiting them."

"...Huh?"

Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia followed Morin's gaze. Sure enough, the "Siegfried Mark I - Modified" mechs two hundred meters away from the "Linebreakers" fired again.

This time, all six fired simultaneously.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Six shaped-charge AP shells slammed into the riverbank.

Five hit the shields; one missed, plunging into the White Army infantry formation trailing the "Linebreakers," kicking up a chorus of screams.

And the five shields that were hit all had a neat hole punched right through them.

The pilot of Unit One felt something scalding hot bore through his shield, leaving a fresh crater on the armor in front of the cockpit.

The angle of impact on this round wasn't optimal. The jet didn't strike his front main armor dead-on; instead, it sliced diagonally into the armor layering on his left shoulder.

He could feel several conduits inside his left arm suffer damage, causing the mechanical arm's movements to warp and grow sluggish.

Simultaneously, the situation for the other "Linebreakers" was rapidly deteriorating.

"Unit One! I've got three holes in my shield already!"

"My shield is getting blasted so hard I can barely hold it! The enemy's guns are doing far more damage to the shields than just these holes!"

Sweat beaded on the forehead of Unit One's pilot.

This was the most agonizing part. The Teutonic Knights' bizarre attacks were steadily eating away at their shields.

A shield was not main armor. Its thickness and material composition were designed to stop kinetic rounds from field artillery.

Facing this demonic weapon that melted through metal, a shield could probably take four or five hits before internal structural damage made it too weak to support its own weight.

Once the shields were all scrapped...

He didn't dare think about what came next.

"Speed up!" he roared. "Full speed ahead! Charge their trench line, force them into melee! It's our only option!"

Clinging to old-era tactical thinking, the eight "Linebreakers" quickened their pace, soon hitting their absolute limit.

Their heavy feet smashed into the muddy riverbank, sinking halfway down with every step before pulling out.

The ground trembled. The White Army infantry following behind occasionally stepped into the deep footprints, tripping and stumbling over themselves.

Two hundred meters away, the six "Siegfried Mark I - Modified" mechs continued to retreat and fire.

They weren't moving fast, and Ludwig deliberately controlled their rate of fire.

"All units, hold this pace!" he commanded over the comms. "Don't pull too far away. Make these big boys feel like they can catch us if they just push a little harder."

"Two hundred meters is perfect! They can see us, they feel hope, so they'll keep walking forward... and stay trapped in our firing rhythm."

"..."

"...Brilliant, My Lord."

Ludwig ignored the compliment, exuding the aura of a master tactician.

What he didn't mention was that the first time Morin told him Armored Knights shouldn't charge in and hack at each other, he had wanted to duel him over it.

"Reload complete."

"Fire."

The seventh volley of shells rained down.

This time, the shield of one "Linebreaker" finally gave out.

The tower shield, already sporting four holes, shattered entirely at its center the moment the fifth AP shell struck.

The lower half of the shield folded backward, slamming hard against the Armored Knight's own leg armor before plunging into the mud.

For the first time, the lower half of this "Linebreaker's" front torso was exposed to the Saxons' gun barrels.

"Unit Three's shield is destroyed! Unit Three's shield is destroyed!"

"Pick it up! Pick it up and keep blocking!"

"I can't! It's broken in half!"

Ludwig, constantly monitoring the entire battlefield, spotted the unshielded "Linebreaker" immediately and realized the opportunity to tilt the scales further in their favor had arrived.

"All units, target the enemy missing its shield."

As he spoke, he dragged his targeting reticle over the mech.

"Units Two, Three, and Four, fire on it with me. Units Five and Six, continue suppressing the other targets."

"Yes, sir!"

Four 77mm assault guns pivoted toward the same target simultaneously.

The pilot of "Linebreaker" Unit Three seemed to sense something, spotting the four muzzles pointed right at him.

"No..."

"Fire."

Four shaped-charge AP shells struck the target in rapid succession. This time, there was no shield to bleed off their energy.

The jets of molten metal slammed directly into the "Linebreaker Mark III's" front main armor. Four blinding white stars erupted simultaneously on its rounded torso.

The layered armor plating on its front torso was ripped open in two places. One shell near the waist bored in, penetrating the alchemically reinforced internal structure, and punched straight into the engine compartment.

A massive cloud of white steam erupted violently from Unit Three's flank. The internal structures, unseen by anyone outside, were mangled into a chaotic mess by the metal jet.

The steel giant, as thick as a wall, pitched forward, its knees slamming heavily into the mud of the riverbank. Its entire upper body slowly slumped sideways, finally coming to rest at the edge of the water.

White steam continued to pour from the breach in its armor. The riverbank fell dead silent.

The pilots of the other seven "Linebreakers" stared from behind their shields at their comrade lying in the mud.

"...Unit Three?"

"Unit Three, respond!"

The comms channel went dead silent.

The pilot of Unit Three had no way to respond. After the shaped-charge AP shell penetrated the torso armor, the intense heat of the metal jet burned straight through a corner of the cockpit, erasing half the pilot's body in the process.

The hands of the Unit One pilot trembled.

He never thought it would end like this.

The "Linebreakers" of the Paladin Orders had leveled the Ottomans' trenches under heavy artillery fire during the Second Crimean War, and crushed the defensive lines of countless hostile warlords during the civil war.

When those enemies saw a "Linebreaker," they either fled or surrendered. No one had ever destroyed one in a frontal confrontation.

But now, Unit Three had fallen shortly after engaging, so fast he barely had time to process it...

"Keep moving!" The pilot of Unit One roared through gritted teeth. "Press the attack! Melee combat favors us!"

The remaining seven "Linebreakers" resumed their march, but their pace had noticeably slowed.

The holes in their shields were multiplying; the edges of some shields were beginning to deform, forcing the pilots to adjust their grip.

Noticing this, Ludwig immediately issued new orders.

"Keep hitting the shields! Just like before, prioritize the leftmost unit. Units Five and Six, suppress the others, don't let them close in."

"Fire!"

Another volley of shells.

The shield of the leftmost "Linebreaker" shattered completely upon the fifth AP shell impact. The upper half sheared off, slamming into the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

"My shield—!"

Before the pilot could finish, three shaped-charge AP shells struck his front torso almost simultaneously.

The metal jets tore through the armor plates and bored into the internal structure. The alchemically reinforced armor layers were like paper before the superheated jets.

An explosion erupted from the left side of this "Linebreaker's" chest, and the entire mechanical arm went limp.

It staggered backward two steps, its knees buckled, and it collapsed to the ground.

Immediately after, a rapid succession of explosions rocked the front of the "Linebreaker" beside him. The pilot's despairing voice crackled over the comms stone.

"Unit Four has lost combat capability! Wait... the core is failing..."

"BOOM!"

Before he could finish, the entire Armored Knight violently exploded due to an internal chain reaction.

"Damn it..."

The voice of Unit One's pilot cracked.

Following Unit Three, two more "Linebreakers" fell in rapid succession. The remaining five continued to push forward.

But the distance between them and the Teutonic Knights remained stubbornly between 150 and 200 meters.

Ludwig was walking them like dogs—retreating unhurriedly, then firing.

The pilot of Unit One finally realized the severity of the problem.

"All units, halt advance."

His voice echoed from the comms stone, and the other four "Linebreakers" stopped almost simultaneously.

"Captain, we..."

"Halt advance!" the pilot of Unit One roared. "If we take another step forward, we all die here!"

Watching the Armored Knights stop, the expressions of the White Army infantry on the riverbank shifted from anticipation to confusion.

"Why did they stop?"

"Why isn't the Paladin Order charging?"

"Damn it, the Saxon guns are still firing!"

As the words fell, another six shaped-charge AP shells rained down.

This time, Ludwig ordered all the "Siegfried Mark I - Modified" mechs to focus fire on two targets. Both "Linebreakers'" shields were shredded simultaneously.

The heavy tower shields snapped from the center, the lower halves folding backward and slamming into the ground, kicking up massive clouds of dust.

Exposed to the gun barrels without their shields, the pilots of the two "Linebreakers" instinctively shrank their Armored Knights backward.

But the riverbank was swarming with White Army infantry; there was absolutely no cover to hide behind.

The pilot of Unit One gritted his teeth, staring at the six Saxon Armored Knights reloading two hundred meters away.

The enemy's movements were perfectly synchronized, their gun muzzles locked onto them the entire time. The oppressive aura made it hard to breathe.

"Fall back."

He finally forced the two words out.

"What?" The voice of Unit Five's pilot was laced with disbelief. "Captain, what did you say?"

"I said fall back!" the pilot of Unit One roared. "If we don't leave now, we're all going to die here!"

"But what about the infantry? Our mission is to cover them establishing the bridgehead—"

"Fuck the bridgehead! How can these infantry be more valuable than Armored Knights?!"

The pilot of Unit One impatiently cut him off. "Can't you see? We haven't even touched the enemy trenches and three Armored Knights are already down. If we keep fighting, the remaining five will be scrap too!"

The comms stone fell silent.

A few seconds later, the pilot of Unit Two spoke up: "The Captain is right, we need to preserve our strength."

"But—"

"No buts." The pilot of Unit One's tone turned ice-cold. "All Armored Knights, fall back! Return to the east bank!"

The five "Linebreakers" began slowly retreating.

Watching the Armored Knights turn around, the White Army infantry following behind were utterly stunned.

"They're running?"

"The Paladin Order is running?"

"What do we do?!"

No one could answer them.

The remaining five "Linebreakers" plodded backward with heavy steps, as if fleeing something terrifying. They even reversed rather than turning around, too afraid to expose their backs.

The White Army infantry on the riverbank exchanged bewildered glances. Soon, someone dropped their rifle, turned around, and bolted alongside the Armored Knights.

"If even the Armored Knights are running, what the hell are we fighting for?!"

"Retreat! Retreat!"

Morale collapsed in an instant.

A massive wave of White Army soldiers began fleeing backward. Just like the first wave this morning, and the failed attacks of the past two days, some jumped into the river to swim back to the east bank, while others fought over the crossing boats still bobbing on the surface.

Aboard the armored airship, Morin noticed the morale drop icon appear over the White Army Armored Knight unit tags on the system map, and seeing the enemy genuinely halt their advance, he knew the opportunity had arrived.

The enemy's Armored Knight offensive had been stalled. It was time for a counterattack.

He directly activated his portable comms terminal, rapidly issuing orders to key combat units, including Brigade HQ.

"Artillery Instruction Regiment, use Map 3. Concentrate fire on coordinates K7 through K12. Cut off the enemy's follow-up forces!"

"Armored Instruction Regiment, Infantry Instruction Regiment: execute the pre-planned full-line counter-assault. Sweep the riverbank defense line!"

"Ludwig, keep suppressing the enemy Armored Knights. Do not let them near the trench line!"

"Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia, increase airship altitude. 150mm guns, prepare to suppress enemy artillery positions!"

Orders cascaded down one after another.

The Artillery Instruction Regiment's 105mm and 150mm long-barreled guns fired first. Shells rained down on the junction of the White Army crossing forces, blasting the soldiers who hadn't yet crossed the river into bloody ribbons.

Immediately following, the roar of engines erupted from behind the trench lines.

The Armored Instruction Regiment's half-tracks surged out of pre-prepared maneuver lanes, pouring dense machine-gun fire and cannon shells into the White Army landing forces.

Tracer rounds drew lines of light across the riverbank. Lacking cover and unable to dig foxholes in time, White Army soldiers fell in droves.

The soldiers of the Infantry Instruction Regiment closely followed the half-tracks, leveraging their superior individual firepower to lay down a withering barrage on any White Army troops attempting to organize resistance.

The Instruction Brigade transitioned from defense to offense in an instant, catching the White Army completely off guard.

Morin had chosen this exact moment not only because the enemy Armored Knight advance was stalled, but also because the new wave of attacking forces had only just crossed halfway over the Dnieper River.

Morin was no Duke Xiang of Song, clinging to outdated notions of "chivalry" and refusing to attack an enemy mid-river crossing.

As long as the enemy hadn't surrendered or routed, he would beat them to death, utilizing whatever tactics gave his side the greatest advantage.

With such a prime opportunity to "strike while they're crossing halfway," he would regret it for the rest of his life if he let it slip by.

Before the engagement, Yegorov had also promised Morin that the National Army would fully coordinate with the Instruction Brigade's operations.

Standing in his command post, the Rzhyshchiv garrison commander watched the scene through his binoculars, an excited grin spreading across his face.

He had held this line for so long, and this was the first time he had seen a battle unfold like this.

Masses of National Army soldiers leaped from their trenches, most wearing expressions of near-insane exhilaration.

From being besieged to launching a counterattack, the transition happened so fast that many felt like they were dreaming.

After completing their initial charge, the half-tracks swiftly moved along the riverbank to attack White Army landing points in other sectors.

Vehicular machine guns fired continuously, mowing down White Army soldiers in swathes under the dense crossfire.

Some White Army soldiers tried to return fire with rifles, but the bullets only left shallow dents on the armor plates.

"Armored vehicles! They have armored vehicles!"

"Run!"

Taking a flank attack from "cavalry" was utterly demoralizing for any infantry unit, let alone "armored cavalry" immune to standard infantry weapons.

The White Army formation shattered completely. Everyone scrambled toward the riverbank.

But the Armored Instruction Regiment's half-tracks were far faster. They quickly rolled down the riverbank, cutting off their retreat.

Trapped between the half-tracks and the pursuing National Army, the White Army soldiers had nowhere to run.

"Surrender! We surrender!"

Someone dropped their weapon and raised their hands.

More and more White Army soldiers followed suit, kneeling on the ground.

The half-tracks halted, but the accompanying Instruction Brigade soldiers kept their rifles trained on the kneeling White Army men.

National Army soldiers eagerly rushed forward to disarm the prisoners. During this process, the half-tracks adjusted their machine guns, laying suppressive fire on the river surface and the White Army soldiers on the opposite bank.

Aboard the L15, Morin breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he watched the blue friendly markers on the system map push forward en masse while the red markers rapidly diminished. He turned to Klaus beside him.

"Klaus."

"Here, General."

"Looks like we won't need to jump after all, at least not in the short term."

Klaus nodded, smiling. "That's the best news. If you had to jump, General, it would mean the battle wasn't going well."

At that moment, Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia walked over.

"General, the airship has climbed to 800 meters. The 150mm guns are ready to fire. At this range, we can cover all the enemy artillery positions we observed earlier."

"Excellent."

Morin paused, checking the coordinates marked on the system map against the targets identified by the airship's observation deck. He ordered the airship to prioritize the 122mm artillery positions.

"Hit these two coordinates first."

"Yes, General! Is there a specific reason for these two coordinates?"

"I'm guessing they're high-value enemy artillery positions. My intuition is usually pretty solid, just fire where I tell you~"

"Understood."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia turned to the comms station in the rear, leaning into one of the speaking tubes. "Gunnery Officer, prioritize the enemy artillery positions at the following coordinates with the 150mm guns..."

Soon, the 150mm guns fired in succession. Muzzle flashes erupted continuously from the airship's belly as twelve shells, trailing smoke, plummeted toward the ground.

At the White Army artillery positions on the east bank, the 122mm howitzers—which had only fired a few salvos—were still reloading.

"Hurry! Load another round!" 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

The gun captain urged his crew, sweat dripping from his forehead. Just then, a piercing shriek echoed from above.

The gun captain instinctively looked up, but before he could issue an order, a 150mm high-explosive shell slammed into the empty ground nearby.

Flames erupted skyward. A powerful shockwave swept across the position, tossing the entire 122mm howitzer into the air and reducing the gun crew to bloody ribbons in the blast.

Similar scenes played out simultaneously across multiple artillery positions on the east bank.

The White Army had very few 122mm howitzers to begin with. Under Morin's "special attention," at least half were severely damaged by the continuous plunging fire from the 150mm guns.

Standing on the bridge, Morin watched the blooming explosions through the optical equipment, nodding in satisfaction.

"Excellent, that should crush this wave of attacks..."

If the Southern Army's offensive repertoire ended here, he felt confident he and the National Army could hold Rzhyshchiv.

Even if Denikin forced crossings from other directions upstream or downstream, they wouldn't be able to secure the bridgeheads before the Armored Instruction Regiment's rapid response forces arrived, meaning they'd just be throwing lives away on multiple fronts.