Chapter 208

Supply Line Severed
The Empire invaded Arland territory. Although the Arlandian army was at a crushing numerical disadvantage, the invading forces had their supply lines severed the moment they crossed into the Kingdom’s territory.

In the sky, armed airships raged. On land, the elven army relentlessly attacked the supply lines.

The border of Arland is forested. This is intentional—the forest is left untouched so that any invading force will have their supply lines vulnerable to attack.

And leading the elven army was Marquis Michael Nordmann.

“Sir Michael. We intercepted Imperial communications. This time, the supplies will be coming through Route C. The escort numbers about 300.”

“Unbelievable how easy it is to track the enemy’s movements.”

Michael was astonished. Thanks to the signal interception device supplied by Alicetia, they were able to monitor all Imperial transmissions.

One of the elves carried a red school backpack with an antenna—it was the signal interception device. It was a surreal sight to see an adult elf wearing a red school backpack, but the elf in question kept a straight face, completely unaware of how strange he looked.

“The Empire isn’t taking any precautions against interception… or rather, it seems they can’t even imagine the possibility.”

The elven army had already wiped out five of the Empire’s ground supply convoys. At first, those convoys had almost no escorts, but now, the Empire had begun to assign guards to its supply teams.

The key breakthrough came when they captured the Imperial military map during one of those five ambushes. Combined with the intercepted communications, they could now predict exactly which routes the supply units would take.

Michael gently stroked the rifle slung over his shoulder. Yes—a rifle.

An M-700 bolt-action rifle. It had accidentally made its way into their supply stockpile. Now, it had become the main weapon of the elven army. Although initially baffled by it, they soon came to recognize that its performance far surpassed that of any bow. Its power could even pierce heavily armored knight armor. Even Michael could only call it “astonishing.”

Michael had long been dissatisfied with bows. Their power and range were simply lacking. Elves were often associated with bows, but that was only because they used them for hunting in forests—it was not out of pride. In fact, he had lobbied the dwarves many times for better weapons.

There was no issue with resupplying the M-700s either. Aside from the Second Training Unit and the current Unit 201 under Alicetia’s command, sniper training in the rest of Arland was virtually nonexistent.

That was because the people of Arland were a brainless group that loved to charge headfirst into battle, to a degree that would even shock former Japanese soldiers. The commanders of the training units held daily meetings, wracking their brains over how to teach them to stay inside trenches. They were the kind of people who, once given a gun, immediately wanted to charge with it.

Naturally, the M-700s were left unused. So those rifles were handed over to the elves—who, unlike the Arlandians, were not brainless. (Even though Michael himself was a massive lump of muscle.)

“All right, same strategy as usual. We’re going to take their supplies.”

Michael’s mission was to sever the Imperial army’s supply lines and create stagnation on the battlefield. Arland had no hope of victory. They could resist the overwhelming numbers, but they could not overturn the situation. That’s why they needed to buy time.

Michael believed in Alicetia—the new Spirit King. He was certain she would overturn the situation.

That’s why it was absolutely necessary to destroy the supply lines. Without supplies, the Imperial forces would lose morale. And that would weaken their momentum.

Just as the intelligence reported, the Imperial supply convoy came along the single road through the forest. They were clearly on alert, with cavalry and infantry guarding the front and rear of the convoy.

Michael waited silently until the convoy reached the middle of the forest. Then, as the convoy arrived at the midpoint, a single gunshot rang out through the woods, startling birds into flight.

The fired bullet shattered the axle of a wagon loaded with supplies, toppling it over. Simultaneously, another shot echoed from the rear, flipping the last wagon as well. With both ends blocked, the convoy could no longer move unless they cleared the wrecks.

Reacting to the gunfire, the cavalry and soldiers drew their swords. However, bullets rained down, and the escorts fell one by one. The elves, hidden behind trees and other cover, remained unseen.

“Enemy attack!”

“You cowardly savages! Show yourselves!”

Michael snorted and shot the commanding officer in the head. The man, who had been pompously shouting atop his horse, toppled to the ground, leaving a pool of blood.

“All units, fall back.”

The elves nodded and retreated deeper into the forest. Imperial soldiers charged into the woods. From this point, the elves would move in groups of ten. Each group included a beastkin.

Beastkin and elves made a good team. Forests were the ideal environment for elves, while beastkin’s keen senses allowed them to detect approaching enemies quickly.

“I’m counting on you.”

“Understood.”

Michael continued to shoot the sporadically advancing Imperial soldiers as he withdrew. Behind him, the beastkin watched the surroundings sharply, ready to counter any ambushes.

In the end, the knights and soldiers guarding the Imperial supply convoy were annihilated without killing a single elf. Pursue them and they vanish; retreat and they’ll never escape. The forest was truly a land of death.

Once the escorts were eliminated, the elves massacred the supply convoy, who were trying to move the wagons and escape.

When every last Imperial soldier lay dead in pools of blood, Michael and the elves stepped out onto the road.

“Post sentries at the forest entrances. Loot all supplies we can.”

“Yessir!”

The elves stuffed the supplies into numerous storage bags. These would be put to good use by the Kingdom’s army. They stripped the corpses of all equipment as well. Anything left behind could be repaired and reused by enemy soldiers.

The Imperial army was short on equipment. Many were clad in leather armor. Leather was worthless—they would just burn it. Metal armor, however, they took to be melted down. After all, bullets weren’t free.

Michael entered a cave through a camouflaged entrance deep in the forest. It was a hidden base prepared by the Arland army for emergencies.

The beastkin who had accompanied him immediately placed a wooden statue of Alicetia on the table and clasped his hands in prayer.

He wasn’t the only one. The other beastkin offered the same prayer. The elves had little to do when no supply convoys came. But since the supplies were always preceded by intercepted communications, they knew the numbers and routes ahead of time. In other words, they often had plenty of spare time.

The beastkin assigned to the elven army used that time to carve. With determined expressions and over a hundred failed attempts, they had finally crafted a perfect wooden statue of Alicetia. Currently, they were building a shrine in the base’s cave.

"These guys are insane."

Even Michael couldn't help but break into a cold sweat at their fanaticism. By the way, they apparently couldn’t be bothered to make a goddess statue. It seems they got tired after making the Alicetia statue. Supply squad? With no top-tier fighters, they’re just small fry.

Michael and the other elves were maintaining their rifles while following the manual. If they messed this up, the bullets wouldn’t hit their targets properly. The unfamiliar maintenance was tough, but the results were worth it, so they had no choice. Visually, they looked like guerrillas.

After a while of gun maintenance, as they were eating, one of the beastkin twitched his ears and pressed them against the ground.

"Your Excellency, it appears they are enemies."

"The communication interception isn't perfect, I see."

There were no supply deliveries scheduled for this time. That meant they were the enemy. Most likely, a unit was acting on its own, scouting through the forest.

"Message from the scouts. Approximately 100 troops. A lightly equipped unit is approaching. It seems they are unaware of our location."

"Everyone, we're leaving the cave. There's a risk they'll discover this place."

Only a hundred? No problem. According to reports, they weren’t particularly elite. In fact, judging by the way a noble-looking man was arrogantly leading them, it was likely a self-directed operation to earn some merit.

But the elves already had precise knowledge of this forest. Every inch and feature of the woods was known to them—this was exactly why Michael was called a High Elf.

High Elves could hear the voice of the forest. Michael’s older brother had once been the king of the elven nation. During the Human-Demon War, the sacred tree kingdom—the elves’ homeland—had split its royal family into two factions. The conservative ones remained in the country, while a portion of the elves emigrated to Arland, which Lycoris had established. Back then, the elves had been even more conservative than they are now, and the king—Michael’s brother—could not abandon his country. He couldn’t bring himself to forsake the people who remained.

The World Tree. The supreme divine tree that the elves had protected for ages. He could not abandon the very tree said to exist solely for their protection. As a result, the Sacred Tree Kingdom was destroyed by the Empire. The World Tree was protected by a forbidden spell cast by Michael’s brother and many elves who sacrificed their lives. Because of this, the forest that was their homeland remained an inviolable domain.

Michael listened to the forest’s voice. The forest replied softly: “They are not your opponents.”

That meant the enemy was weak. With this, Michael ruled out the possibility that the Empire's special forces were staging a disguised attack.

"Baron, are we really going to be okay?"

After a while, voices could be heard. Elves had sharp hearing, after all.

"Y-yes, we’ll be fine. If we capture some elves, surely His Imperial Majesty will grant me land!"

A chubby nobleman was walking alongside a soldier. Shockingly, the noble wasn’t even wearing armor.

"But we have no idea where in the forest they are."

"Finding those slowpoke elves is easy. And male elves sell for a high price as 'breeding stock.'"

Even in the Empire, elven slaves were popular. But male elves were rare, and young, strong ones fetched particularly high prices as they were necessary for producing pureblood offspring.

A vein throbbed on Michael's forehead. The other elves were no different.

In Arland, soldiers were admired—even among the elves. Every member of this unit was either married or had a partner. They had no intention of letting their kind be treated like livestock for breeding.

Michael abandoned the idea of taking prisoners. It was clearly an unauthorized mission. Anyone who couldn’t follow military regulations likely wouldn’t have any useful intel. For the sake of many of his kind, this one had to be killed without fail.

"A-and I'm also interested in male elf butts. Soldiers should have tight ones, right?"

The elves paled at those words. Apparently, this pigman was into that too. Imagining themselves being violated made the elves’ backsides reflexively clench.

"Kill everyone except the pig!"

"E-enemy attack!"

The battle was over in an instant. More than a hundred elves already had their guns trained on them. There was no way to resist. Everyone except the pig was killed.

"Hey there, piggy."

Michael walked up to the pig who had collapsed in shock and was sitting on the ground. The pig still hadn’t grasped what had happened, looking around in a daze. When he saw all his subordinates dead, his face turned bright red with rage.

"H-how dare you do this to my retainers, you lowly—bluurgh!"

Michael’s kick smashed into the pig’s gut, sending him rolling on the ground, vomiting. Michael felt a headache coming on.

Why is this pig even on the battlefield? The elves were all expressionless in exasperation. Their blank faces came from sheer disgust.

"Hey, do you think this guy has any intel worth keeping him alive for?"

"Not a chance. If he did, the Empire would’ve been wiped out already."

"Then there’s no point in taking him alive."

"Even if we captured him, he’d be sentenced to death under kingdom law... But if possible, I’d like to take care of him with my own hands. He said some pretty outrageous things."

According to the laws of the kingdom, any invading noble or high-ranking officer was automatically sentenced to death. A trial only determined whether torture would be involved and how the execution would proceed. Once captured, their fate was sealed.

"Yeah. Do as you like."

At Michael’s words, the elves' eyes gleamed sharply. As they surrounded the pig, who was crawling backward in desperation, they began to kick him.

"Die, you pig bastard!"

"Whose ass is tight, huh!? Screw you!"

"My ass is for my wife only!"

"Huh!?"

The elves kicked the pig mercilessly, executing him. To enslave an elf was the gravest insult to their entire race.

They didn’t kill him quickly. They broke his arms and legs, killing him slowly and painfully.

There was no mercy. After being kicked around for about an hour, the pig was unrecognizable. He wasn’t even granted the dignified death of a noble.

"Toss his corpse to the monsters. As far as we're concerned, we didn't engage in any combat."

A combat report would normally be required, but Michael decided to pretend nothing had happened. Even the kingdom wouldn’t know how to respond if told a perverted pig was wandering the woods.

The pig's remains were dumped in front of some nearby carnivorous monsters.

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