Chapter 19: Wait, Are You the Son of Admiral Voronzov?

“Hoorah!”

Hearing the rapid footsteps and fierce shouts, Andrew turned around in surprise and saw that, without him noticing, a large group of allied soldiers was charging swiftly toward them. Thick smoke blanketed the battlefield, obscuring vision.

Though panting heavily from the rush, each soldier gripped their rifle tightly, bayonets affixed—many stained with fresh blood.

“Captain, we’ve come to support you!” exclaimed a major leading the charge, his face alight with excitement.

“Beautifully done. It’s the first time in my life I’ve witnessed such a fierce assault! Those Black Eagle bastards are wailing and running like frightened children!”

Andrew nodded, then shouted back to the others behind him:

“Soldiers, press on! We’ve successfully stunned them and torn a gap in their lines, but this won’t last long!”

“They’ll soon recover and encircle us here, so we must break through quickly—head straight into the forest to the north!”

The major, who had just been brimming with enthusiasm, abruptly sobered, casting Andrew a bewildered look.

“Captain, are you sure about this? It sounds insane!”

“I thought we’d counterattack once more to rout them before retreating slowly. Why do we need to keep charging forward now?”

“If we push in that direction, won’t we be moving further away from our main force and right into the bulk of the enemy?”

Andrew understood the plan was indeed reckless, but his instincts told him this charge was safer. The premature artillery barrage and the enemy emerging from flanking positions made him uneasy—especially those multi-legged mechs. Ordering the soldiers to retreat across open ground would be a death sentence.

He explained succinctly:

“The early barrage is suspicious. I suspect our artillery position has been neutralized—the enemy likely encircled us already.”

“The enemy is advancing eastward. We can’t outrun them by retreating that way. Charging into the forest may be our only chance.”

“As far as I know, there’s a hidden path through that forest leading to a village directly north. Once there, we won’t be caught on the enemy’s main line and can continue breaking out northeast.”

Seeing the major hesitate, Andrew pointed to the twisted steel wreckage on the battlefield.

“Major, there’s no time to waste. Do you really believe our soldiers can outrun those iron monsters?”

“Retreating east means crossing open plains, where those things will catch us for certain!”

Hearing this, the major finally nodded in agreement.

“Alright, then. We’ll follow your lead and break out northward.”

“That damned artillery crew should face a court-martial!”

He glanced at Andrew’s youthful face, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“By the way, Captain, I don’t even know your name—might I ask?”

Andrew motioned to a few flamethrower operators to hold the trench line, then answered casually:

“Andrew Konstantinovich Vorontsov.”

The major’s eyes lit up in surprise and delight.

“Vorontsov? Are you the son of Count Konstantin Semyonovich Vorontsov, the Army General? I served under him during the Great Northern War!”

Andrew blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

Damn it! He couldn’t recall any of that—who knew if this man was really his father, some uncle, or just a coincidence of names?

So he awkwardly changed the subject.

“Major, that’s not important. May I ask your full name?”

Andrew's assumption about the major’s hesitation seemed right. The major didn’t press further and answered simply:

“I’m Vladimir Yuri. Nothing special—I come from a humble farming family.”

Hearing the name, Andrew glanced at Major Yuri’s bald head.

Hmm—major, I wonder if you have mind control powers?

Imagine if we had an entire psychic assault team!

Still, Andrew just nodded and said:

“Major Yuri, lead the men behind as best you can. I’ll take my team to clear the path ahead.”

“It’s nearly dark. Once we get into the forest, we’ll be safe. Black Eagle troops won’t dare venture into the woods at night.”

With that, Andrew led the charge forward, letting his players take point, advancing along the trench toward the edge.

Staying longer with the major would only create awkwardness—not just because of Andrew’s amnesia, but also the question of command.

Andrew had his own plans and didn’t want to be under Major Yuri’s authority; his players wouldn’t accept orders lightly either.

Better to press ahead with his team—a strong assault squad was exactly what they needed to break through enemy lines.

Perhaps because the players had acted as ghosts in the smoke earlier, shattering Black Eagle morale, this charge met almost no resistance.

Any enemy soldier spotting their small squad fled in panic; occasional gunfire was wildly aimed behind them, more out of desperation than intent.

Though the players darted wildly, their extraordinary mobility was a blessing. Crucially, they hadn’t forgotten their main objective.

Two players flanked Andrew front and back, shielding him tightly, which eased his nerves.

After a fierce push, Andrew and his men finally reached the forest edge and plunged into the towering pines ahead.

Other soldiers fired rearward while retreating into the woods, vanishing into the dense forest in moments.

Only after these hardy soldiers disappeared did the disoriented Black Eagle troops regroup, faces pale as they frantically searched for their vanished foes.