Reincarnated to the Past 45 (Patreon)

Reincarnated to the Past
Chapter 45

-VB-

The Perinthians shot their arrows, but our sturdy shields kept them off of my men.

Less than thirty seconds of charging later, we clashed onto the wall and began to climb. Thanks to the previous attacks leaving many sturdy spears for support, my warriors began to climb while a ram carried by the Byzantions slammed into the gate.

I danced upon the embedded spear shafts; jumping and even flinging myself up and up and up as the Perinthians tried to shoot me down. I jumped up on the spear embedded at the top of the walls and then rolled myself upon the battlement.

I landed on the battlement between two Perinthians with my spear drawn and ready to strike.

The first soldier to meet me, and in front of me, was nothing but a boy. Barely an adult.

Behind me was a mature man, and he came charging immediately.

Mercy had no place upon the battlefield until a truce was called, however.

I struck with a blurring fast left to right horizontal slash. The kid slipped, and barely got away from the strike. My slash, however, did not stop and came around to slam into the temple of the charging Perinthian’s helmeted head. The spearhead didn’t cut into the armor, but the strike of my slash was great enough that a sharp crack told me all I needed to know.

And then I pulled the spear back with a single pull and slammed the butt into the kid’s stomach, sending him into an uncontrolled tumble before he hit the side of the battlement wall and groaned.

I pulled the spear back again and spun it as Perinthians tried to swarm me and prevent a foothold from being formed.

I grinned before jumping forward with the naked speartip held back. And then thrusted as the lead charger struck down with his own spear.

Unfortunately for him, a jab was much faster than a vertical strike.

My speartip punched through his chest and lifted him up as I carried him forward with my momentum. The men behind him screamed as their lead charger suddenly came back towards them, and the second charger took the exposed speartip to his own chest.

I snatched the spear from the impaled soldier’s hand, whirled around, and flung it towards the Perinthians running towards me from the other side of the battlement’s length. The spear flew with a whistle before landing with a thunk into the chest of an armored soldier, who tumbled back from the force of the throw.

My men were also starting to pull themselves up and over the wall and onto the battlement.

“You lot take that side!” I shouted at them before turning back to the two impaled Perinthians and the others behind them. I gripped the spear stuck in two men and savagely yanked it out. The two men jerked as my spear left a hole behind both of them and then they collapsed, either dead or dying.

“Come at me!” I shouted to the now openly frightened soldiers.

I had to give it to them. Byzantions surrendered at this point, but these Perinthians were made up of sterner stuff. They roared as one and charged again.

But perhaps they weren’t smarter than my new vassal. After all, Byzantion would have burned if they hadn’t surrendered to me.

SNAP!

I blinked as my spear broke from the force of my latest thrust; the midsection couldn’t take it and had bent in half.

Whatever.

I snapped it off completely before stabbing the sharp end of the lower half of the shaft into the mouth of the next Perinthian.

I yanked out the upper half of the shaft with the speartip… no longer attached.

Sheesh.

I grabbed a shortsword and turned it over in my hand.

A Perinthian tried to use my “distraction” to ambush me, but I snap-kicked his chest in and sent him flying off the battlement and onto the city ground below.

“Wiseman!”

I glanced over my shoulder. Some of my men came running to me, and I saw further back that the gate had been breached.

Had I been fighting for so long-?

“Master!” Rom, one of the warriors here, shouted in alarm.

“I know, I know,” I said before turning around leisurely.

[Enhanced Precision] allowed me to easily weave out of the spear thrust and also guided my free left hand into a jaw-breaking uppercut that caused the Perinthian soldier to hover off the ground for a discernible moment before he came crashing back into the ground with his lower face pulped.

“Find the leaders of the city. Loot any valuables and food. Do not kill or exploit any who submit.”

“Yes, sir!”

Rom stayed while others went to loot.

No doubt, there would be pillaging happening soon. Discipline broke down once an army thought their enemy was gone, and I didn’t bother to push discipline into them.

I glanced back at the small cluster of soldiers still holding their weapons up and pointed at me.

“You know, you can ask my slave here, but life as a slave under me will be much more preferable to what will happen to this city,” I drawled as my enthusiasm for wanton slaughter left me. I killed… how many did I kill?

I looked back and raised an eyebrow. Jesus, that’s … at least four dozen.

I turned back to them.

“You won’t starve at the very least,” I added. “So do you want to be my slave or do you want to burn with this city? Oh, and you won’t be alive to see it burn, so there’s that: living.”

And then one stupidly courageous man stepped forward. “I-If you promise our families will be under you, too!”

I raised an eyebrow. I could be lying to them, even though I wasn’t, but maybe they didn’t think of it that way? After all, honor was a big thing for all of these ancient peoples. To break a promise or one’s word was to lower their value. They just assumed that I would not be letting them starve at the very least.

“Alright, but before we go and put in ropes, are any of your leaders of the city?”

There was a glance from each of the soldiers towards one man, whose armor was … less shitty.

I narrowed my eyes. “Step up,” I demanded as I took a simple horse stance.

The man frowned with a tiny tremble in his body before he pushed forward.

“I am Yorosus, son of Torosus,” the bearded man gruffed.

“I am Alan Marris of the Lower River Kettin,” I hummed.

He charged.

I threw the shortsword I picked up.

Again, [Enhanced Precision] let me do some ridiculous shit, because I threw the shortsword with perfect accuracy. The sword sunk through the man’s fleshy neck and out the other end.

He staggered forward before he collapsed and died.

I snorted and then turned to look at fires started in the city.

“Come and get your family!” I ordered and left.

The defeated Perinthians followed.

By the end of the day, I had all of the Perinthian leaders executed via beheading, the city burned, and the majority of the skill-less survivors sent back to Byzantion as slaves.

My conquest of Thrace was complete.

For now.