The Extra Wants To Live

Carl charged ahead, leading the way, with the entire battlefield at his mercy.

He swung his heavy spear, which was more than 2 meters long, as sharply as a whip, and the soldiers were torn apart like stuffed dolls just by being touched by the incredible force.

As always, Carl's white horse rode forward, confident that Carl would block the enemy's weapons, pushing the enemies in its path with its head, striking them with its chest, and kicking them with its hooves.

Carl's shout echoed across the battlefield, commanding attention.

"Back, back! Back! Back!"

Five mana users, including Carl, cut through the loose ranks of the Tumarian rebel infantry without mercy, striking at the rear of the forces engaged with the Laurel Union infantry. Despite the fear and anxiety swirling within, many fought their hardest. But with Carl's shouts and the thundering cavalry crashing into the rear, it was impossible to hold the line.

WHACK! WHACK!

"Kkaaa!"

Carl steadied himself on his stirrups, clenching the horse's waist tightly with his legs. With a spear in his right hand and a sword in his left, he charged wildly toward the rear. His prowess in battle was unmatched, a display of strength that few could rival. His natural physical abilities shone in the chaotic melee, where raw power triumphed over skill. None were as effective as Carl.

"Wow!"

Doo doo doo doo!

As if driving a wedge into the enemy, the Laurel Union cavalry charged, spears aimed and ready, trampling the rear of the Tumarian infantry. The infantry battle ended swiftly. Unable to withstand the assault from both front and rear, the Tumarian rebels broke into disorganized flight, retreating to the left and right.

The once-solid ranks crumbled, retreating east and west, dividing entirely. Hidan, leading forces to the east, found himself powerless to aid the soldiers to the west. Cavalry charges against infantry in formation would result only in slaughter, not victory. Still, Hidan clung to a slim hope. The job of cavalry was not to annihilate but to inspire fear, shattering morale and breaking ranks.

With one precise strike, Carl and his cavalry, numbering only 100, decimated an infantry force of over 10,000. Within five minutes, the battle was decisively won. The only question that remained was how many casualties could be avoided.

"Surrender! Surrender!"

The first cries for surrender came from the conscripts, scattered among the broken forces to the west. Dropping their weapons, they raised their hands and pleaded for their lives. Few attempted to flee—running meant certain death in the desert. Many, in a fit of desperate survival, began hijacking supply wagons.

"Pull him out! Quickly!"

"This, this is treason!"

"That sounds like treason! You idiot!"

Conscripts stormed the carriages, dragging the coachmen from their seats. They ruthlessly seized supplies and killed anyone who stood in their way. The wagons carrying vital provisions—water, food, and supplies—became the main targets. Chaos erupted as the conscripts, driven by desperation, began robbing carriages for weapons and valuables.

The standing army, realizing the impending disaster, fought back against the conscripts, trying to protect the supply wagons. But the battlefield had descended into uncontrollable chaos.

"Put down your weapons and surrender! Surrender, and I will spare your life!"

Carl's booming voice shook the battlefield. The Tumarian forces to the west, already demoralized, lost their will to fight. Even Hidan's troops in the east sensed the inevitability of defeat. Though some held out hope for a miracle, Carl's dominance left them little chance.

More troubling was the rebellion within their ranks. With the conscripts running amok, surrendering, or looting, the Tumarian command structure disintegrated. The standing army could no longer fight effectively.

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"Hadadsi...!" Hidan cried out to his god, but no answer came. He had led the Tumarian rebels to ally with the Kuah Hadad cult, and now, in their time of need, Hadad remained silent. Many of the conscripts had been dragged into this war without understanding or caring about the religious conflict. They just wanted to return home.

Eventually, the Tumarian forces in the east attempted an escape, but only a small portion succeeded. The rest laid down their arms in surrender. The command structure had collapsed, and they had no choice.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"You must not surrender! If you surrender, you will die!" Hidan urged his men to fight on, but the situation was beyond his control. His authority was meaningless in the chaos.

"There's no way they'll let the prisoners live! We have to take up arms and fight!" Hidan screamed, knowing the grim fate awaiting them. With Carl's force of fewer than 3,000 men, managing over 10,000 prisoners was impossible. The Tumarian rebels feared that surrender meant certain death.

Even as Hidan's cries faded, he and his small band of warriors fought to the end, but they were eventually captured.

"I captured the enemy general!"

"It is our victory!"

"Wow!"

With the capture of Hidan and the surrender of Mahelet, who had been battling Jaren, the battle ended. Victory shouts echoed across the battlefield as Laurel Union troops celebrated their incredible triumph.

Though the battle lasted less than 30 minutes, the Laurel Union sustained minimal casualties. The Tumarian rebels lost only about 1,000 men, most of whom had been trampled or injured during the retreat. Despite facing an enemy force of 14,000, Carl led less than 3,000 men to a complete victory, capturing over 10,000 prisoners, including the enemy commander Hidan and Master Mahalet.

This first battle, Carl's debut as a commander, marked a victory so incredible it would be hard to believe if not recorded in history. As promised, Carl took the lead, ensuring those who followed him would share in the glory. With this decisive victory, the rebel influence in western Tumaria was obliterated.

Now, with the war shifting north, only the castles and cities remained to be captured for total victory.

***

After the battle, the looted supplies of the Tumarian rebels were redistributed to the Laurel Union soldiers. Restoring order and tending to the wounded took longer than the battle itself, and by the time it was over, the moon hung high in the western sky.

As the soldiers rested, the topic of prisoners came up.

"Let's kill them."

This was the first suggestion for dealing with the prisoners.

"We must spare the noble class for diplomatic reasons and ransoms, but the soldiers should be killed. They're still in shock now, but as time passes, they will cause trouble. We can't control over 10,000 prisoners."

The cold logic of the suggestion was undeniable. In a war with an enemy nation, killing thousands of insignificant soldiers was tactically sound. Eliminating the prisoners would prevent future issues.

But opposition arose.

"These people are Tumarians, forcibly conscripted without knowledge or loyalty to the rebellion. Killing them could have diplomatic repercussions after the war."

This wasn't just an emotional plea—it was a rational political consideration. Sultan Yusuf, should he win, would likely not look kindly on the massacre of his people. Moreover, exterminating Hadad's followers could provoke the powerful sect.

Carl had anticipated this dilemma and prepared for it.

"Your Highness, Akhtal Ali requests to see you."

Akhtal Ali, one of the senior priests of the Hadad Order, was a key figure. Carl had brought him on this harsh march, knowing the old man's influence would be needed. Despite his age and frailty, Ali had endured the grueling journey, vomiting blood at times, yet still holding on.

"Send him in," Carl ordered. Ali, understanding the gravity of the situation, entered the tent, ready for the critical moment.

And Ali also knew that this moment would come, so he endured the harsh march that was difficult for an old man to endure, and even though he was vomiting blood and almost died, he managed to endure it and reached the destination together.

Ali walks into a makeshift barracks made of roughly placed poles and covered with cloth.

His sun-tanned face had turned a worryingly yellow, his wrinkled hands and feet were shaking from exhaustion, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with an unmistakable fatigue.

But those black eyes were shining clear like obsidian under the desert sun.

"It must have been a sudden request, but I didn't know you would grant it so readily."

Ali bowed politely to Carl, placing his hand on his heart, expressing his gratitude.

The makeshift conference room fell into silence as the clear yet intense spirit emanated from this old and tired old man.

One of the 16 pillars of the Hadad Order, over 80 years old, came to ask for mercy, ready to die.

Its momentum is as heavy as Mt. Taishan, and its power is as strong as the Arbana River that runs through the desert.

It's completely different from the kids who just shout death with their mouths.

A being who lived his life to the fullest and reached the pinnacle of the national religion of a great nation calmly resolved to die.

Everyone feels solemn before that gentle yet heavy face.

Even those who despised the Hadad Church and called it a heresy would not dare to diminish the will of Ahtal Ali Ghabin Hadad, who is prepared to die.