Cardboard Houses Do Not Tear

15 – Melee

As always, it was the arrows that signaled the start of the battle.

There was no shout that the opponent could respond to, such as ‘shoot’.

Just the sound of something bouncing and peeing came from directly below, and I could see the backs of the arrows they shot into the sky right in front of my eyes.

It was thanks to the low angle of the shot because the distance was short.

And the arrows flying toward each other crossed the air, and to my eyes they seemed to fly very slowly.

It’s my first time doing something like this, so I don’t know what to say.

Now it seemed I was looking down at a school of flying fish on the horizon.

Of course, if you get hit, it’s a flying fish.

And at this moment, the flying fish that reached the highest point began to return to the sea of grass.

The destination was the other side’s head.

“It’s an arrow!”

I heard the voice of someone with good eyes.

With those words, the silver light that had been shining in the sunlight disappeared without a trace.

“Listen to the shield!!!!”

From noble mtl dot com

“If you don’t stop, you will die!!”

The scene in which only colorful primary colors such as brown and green were painted on the shield was truly a miracle close to a flash mob.

It was a miracle created by survival instinct.

―Patter!!

And then it rained.

One or two places that were poorly prepared for heavy rain collapsed like earth and sand, and the spots were stained red.

The idiots who couldn’t bring their umbrellas because they couldn’t hear the weather forecast were the first victims of this Yeongji Battle.

Fortunately, it was a shower of rain. As the brown color turned silver again, the front lines of the two sides began to meet.

Once again, the shouts began to echo across the meadow.

“Kiyaaa!!!!!”

“Look around you bastards!!”

―Quaang!

“Aagh!”

-Kang!

“Yaaa!!!!!”

“Kill them all!!”

The greatsword is swung, and the silver curve scatters red blood.

The mercenaries, each holding a broadsword and an ax, slammed each other’s shields and continued to strike until one of them bent his knees.

Threshing of people started, and the threshing floor was stained red.

And as always, it didn’t take long before it was hard to tell the enemy apart on the grass stained red by the clash.

And as always. The way to distinguish enemies was simple.

A grain of oats!

I could hear Gilford’s shouting all the way up here, and then our blood clots took care of each other and got together.

Several circles consisting of six to eight began to appear. It goes without saying that they lined up a little wide for each other’s distance.

And, of course, collective tactics are not our only product.

At the Sarian Mercenary Corps, someone shouted something, and squares were created a little slower than us.

The square, which was supposed to be a circle, looked a little tight, but no one could get inside.

The reason was obvious. It was a product of collective selfishness.

I don’t want to be torn apart protruding in front of me alone, and I don’t want a baby sucking honey alone inside while I’m trembling outside.

As if to prove this hypothesis, they could be seen pushing each other forward little by little.

Still, in this way, Othello without scale was created on the battlefield. The color was the same on both sides.

Red, or less red.

And among them, I saw them running around.

The only way to survive in a melee is to gather a few people together and block all sides, or to keep running between the squares to catch and kill the weak ones.

I know because I’ve done the latter more times. The guys running around down there now were just losers. Or crazy

Of course, there were a lot of people who got stuck between the saw teeth and died from being stabbed by the flying blades, but from time to time, I saw a few of them going wild.

“I will kill everyone!!”

The one with the longsword roared and charged at one of our sides. Looking at his body movements, he was a man who had awakened mana.

Looking at the spear he threw at his head, ignoring it and running at it, it was most likely a blood-mad moth.

With the sound of kwaang, the circles that were not completely united were scattered for a while. The guy dug in.

The head of someone who stabbed the spear flew up into the sky.

As usual, I didn’t remember the face.

The guy who entered just like that screamed grotesquely.

It must have been that he wanted to show off his prestige like the sun, like a lion among herbivores.

However, the existence of mana awakeners on the battlefield was not the sun in the sky.

It was a candle that goes out with just a little bit of a hook.

So the formation was re-formed, and he was swallowed up intact.

The countermeasure against the mana-handler was simple.

There are four blades that turn inside and predict where to dodge at different times and stab them.

And there are three bladers who are still looking outward and vigilant in all directions until they can deal with it.

He couldn’t block all four directions.

The guy who blocked the sword and ax in front and on the right gushed his blood through the spear blade stuck in the back of his neck.

The asshole disappeared, and the steel sunflower made up of seven blades unfolded again.

My team’s square blocks the enemies better than I thought.

When the formation was established to some extent and the war situation came to a standstill, the movement of our mercenaries changed.

Two claws!

Guilford shouted softly.

Then, one or two people from each circle came out and gathered together, forming a small square made up of two columns.

It was a breakout group.

Among the friends who participated in the Territory War, there were quite a few people who had awakened mana, and according to Hwaran’s words, everyone in that square knew how to handle mana.

As it was pre-determined, they were assigned the role of piercing the squares of the enemy, like blood and oil piercing stagnant blood vessels.

The method was simple.

If allied archers and gunners focus on one square and focus their attention on another, the two-handers or mercenaries with halberds belonging to the breakthrough team, such as Huck or Lepen, will break through first.

And as always, they were succeeding.

One candle was easy to put out, but a bundle of candles was not so easy to put out.

I saw a two-hander leaping like a dolphin from the middle of a sea of people, smashing a long spear and disappearing into the crowd again.

Even so, Halberd, who was next to him, removed the polearm stabbed by Huck, and instead directed the attack towards the Sarian mercenaries, blocking all breakthrough groups from entering.

And the breakthrough group that came in like that moved as fast as possible and tore the formation by breaking the bones of those who couldn’t turn around.

It was possible because everyone had awakened mana.

The breakout angle was always different, so they couldn’t reinforce any one place, so they kept breaking through the encirclement and rushing to other squares.

The most important point in breaking through the Hwaruan mercenaries was to tear the square itself apart, so it didn’t matter if they didn’t kill everyone.

Because they’ll scatter in all directions on their own and get stabbed to death anyway.

***

While about a third of their squares disappeared, only one ally’s circle disappeared, and only one person died in the breakthrough group.

And Locke still hasn’t appeared in the ‘Wizard’s Rock’.

When I turned around, Miss Prianian was lying on her side, looking at the back of the Sarian Mercenary Corps and the rocks across the other side.

With a preloaded crossbow next to it, ready to shoot the enemy mage, Locke, at any time.

I was speechless at the sight of the green cloth, similar to the color of grass, turned inside out in order not to be seen at all.

‘Where do you look at that mercenary from the medieval fantasy world? He’s the main character in Double Target.’

I looked at her battlefield again, admiring her work spirit.

Among them, I can’t see their face, but I saw a mercenary who seemed to be on our side trying to stab the opposing mercenary, and suddenly a line of lightning stretched in the middle of the battlefield, then disappeared.

The final destination was the mercenary.

“Die aaa!!!”

―Quarleung!

Thunder was heard a beat late, and a person fell down.

The unfortunate mercenary who was suddenly struck by lightning and the six Sarian mercenaries who surrounded him were also together.

The single thunderstorm that buried all the shouts and screams soon stopped everyone’s actions and made them look somewhere.

The scene where each of them stopped and turned their heads in the same posture as they were about to swing their swords was like watching elaborate miniatures.

“…..!”

Little, the sound of Miss Prianian lifting the crossbow and fixing it was heard.

When I turned my head and looked at the ‘Wizard’s Rock’, someone was standing there.

A man in his mid-twenties.

Judging by the fact that he was holding a short stick with a slight purple color at the end, it was clearly the target of our dedicated mark and the 1st and 4th tier magician Filian Locke.

The wizard, who appeared as if he had electrocuted time with a single bolt of lightning, turned the wand around like a gun and blew the front part.

Of course, there was no smoke.

Baby, hit me a little. Have you seen any westerns?

Rocke stretched out his wand again and muttered something in the air for a moment.

“-Voice amplification check. Ah. Ah.”

And then, a voice that sounded like a microphone rang through the battlefield.

“Now, pay attention! Fist!”

The wizard clapped his hands and drew everyone’s attention, then opened his mouth again.

“Nice to meet you! Fhar’an mercenaries! I am Filian Locke, a 4th tier battle mage belonging to the Sarian Mercenary Corps in this Territory Battle!”

After the self-introduction, the guy slightly lowered his head, and I inadvertently spit out a double curse at his skillful appearance.

“f*ck.”

“Don’t be too scared, Mr. Ghouse.”

“I’m not scared. I’m just too angry.”

The reason I was angry was simple.

Hello, I am in charge of giving a presentation in relation to the recording of Mr. Bangye Yoo Hyeong-won in this Joseon Yangbansa class-

It was because that familiar angle and smile reminded me of my graduate school days when I was greeting before the presentation of my speech.

That was when the professor hit me too hard.

Philian Locke, who suddenly assaulted me by memory, spoke loudly once again.

“We’re not that close, so just call me Locke!!”

I saw the rather unlucky-looking face of Locke, who was a boy but with his blonde hair, but I forgot his face.

He will die here today.