Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology-Chapter 1245: WW1: Balkan Attack (5)

The bloodbath continued for the rest of the night, and it wasn’t until dawn that the sound of gunfire stopped. But once the golden glow of the morning sun fell on the citadel, the sight that revealed itself to the world was gruesome and horrifying.

Dismembered corpses were everywhere, and body parts and burnt flesh made the whole citadel look like a hell on Earth. And not only that, a literal stream of blood flowed down the hill, forming a puddle that only grew bigger with time, as if it were spring water joining the river.

Within the span of four to five hours, nearly 15,000 Europeans were slaughtered without mercy, and one of the largest hills, a superior geographic asset, fell into the control of the Bharatiya troops relatively intact.

Rudra Balachandran’s clothes were soaking wet with both his sweat and the enemy’s blood, yet he was far from satisfied. The mission was not completed yet, and his efforts so far had only yielded a result where he now had a foothold to breach the city of Plovdiv.

That’s right, so many sacrifices were made simply to earn a foothold, one that could be used as leverage to pry into the target.

It was for this foothold that Rudra Balachandran chose the more ruthless approach, one that required a large number of sacrifices. Quite honestly, the enemies on the hill could have been taken care of if he had simply used the mountain howitzers and the third-generation siege cannon. But the problem with these weapons was that they were simply too powerful. Once used, not only would the enemy be blown to smithereens, but the citadel would also cease to be useful, and he could not let that happen.

After everything was said and done, was he satisfied with the result? Honestly, he was. Although it might sound hypocritical or vile, considering the deaths among the soldiers, the commandos, and especially the destruction of strategic assets like the war tractors, it was the truth.

It did cost a lot to gain that foothold, but now that they had it, the losses in future battles would be reduced to a minimum.

All he had to do was install the howitzers and the siege cannons on top of the occupied hill within the citadel, take advantage of the longer range, elevation, ready-made defences, and strategic position and bombard the other hills until there was no resistance.

Wasn’t it much better than conquering one hill at a time by bombarding it repeatedly until the path to the city opened up? Although he paid a lot initially, Rudra’s actions saved at least 20 to 30,000 lives, even if it might seem heartless.

The installation of the howitzers and the siege cannons took nearly half a day, and just as the sun was beginning to dip, the explosions began to be heard, with cannonballs and ammunition blasting into the surrounding hills at supersonic speeds, obliterating everything they came across.

Simultaneously, on the southern border of Sofia,

Kartik Subramaniam had a sombre expression on his face as he gazed at the city wall of Sofia, the current capital of the Slavic Byzantine Kingdom. The city was very well equipped, with artillery pieces placed every few metres and tens of thousands of soldiers patrolling on the wall.

Not to mention, the wall seemed to be constructed using concrete reinforced with steel, making it almost indestructible under normal attacks.

Kartik had no idea what Rudra Balachandran had to face, but he was convinced that he would be breaching one of the hardest cities to breach on the continent, which filled him with a certain excitement.

On the other side of the wall, sitting inside a large tent, Alexander Dimitrovich Romanov stroked his chin as he remained lost in contemplation.

He had been put in charge of the defensive battle now that his father was not in good health, so he was thinking about what strategy to use to defeat the enemy. Sitting right before him were the generals of the kingdom, quarrelling with one another about which strategy to choose. They argued over many strategies he had never heard of, but he knew he would have to rely on them, so he came up with a solution.

"All four of your strategies sound wonderful, and they each seem to have their own advantages. So, how about this, the four of you take command of one part of the defence, and whoever is able to resist the most Bharatiya troops will be promoted right away."

The four generals looked at each other for the first time. They all showed a look of worry, but it was soon covered up, and they quickly began to agree with the young king’s suggestion.

The Bharatiya Army moved closer and closer to the city wall, and the soldiers on the wall became completely alert.

The four generals each took command of one main entrance of the city, namely the eastern, western, and the two southern entries.

Each general adopted a different strategy. One had the idea of not firing the cannons prematurely and instead waiting until the enemy advanced into the kill zone, then decisively starting crossfire from all angles to make the Bharatiya troops unable to resist. Another general took the exact opposite approach, having all the artillery and war weapons ready, not wanting the enemy to get close to the wall at any cost.

While all of this was happening, the Bharatiya Army, which stretched for kilometres, did something no one expected. It was not the heavy Infantry that came forward; instead, it was the war tractors.

The war tractors did not have any artillery installed on them, but inside were operators carrying machine guns. So when the war tractors moved forward, they absorbed all the gunfire the enemy threw at them, and as a counterattack, they spewed out chains of bullets from four to five machine guns firing at a time, making concrete chips fall with every shot.

To provide support to the war tractors, the advanced artillery of the Bharatiya Empire, the siege guns, the howitzers, the culverins, the breech-loading cannons, and the mortars began to rain hellfire on the city wall of Sofia.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

"Booom!"

Hearing the sound of artillery hitting the city wall, the people of Sofia were terrified for their lives, and every time an artillery shell made contact with the wall, it shook the very foundation of the city, sending shivers down the spines of the commoners and prompting them to chant the name of their god repeatedly.

Amidst the war that looked like a day of reckoning, or like the day of Ragnarok spoken of by the Norse, a middle-aged, fat man stood with a young teenager beside him, gazing towards the city wall with an expressionless face.

"Are you sure you want to do this, father?" the teenager with blond hair and exquisite noble features asked, his face unable to hide the worry.

The fat man, who was none other than the Duke of Sofia, Nikolay Vladimirovich Borisov, did not change his expression and simply nodded. "Yes, and we don’t have any choice either."

"But, father, the city wall is holding off the Bharatiyas quite well, isn’t it?"

"For now, yes, but not for long. The opponent has that large siege cannon. They haven’t used it yet, and there seems to be only one of them in existence, but every time it shoots, the projectile makes the city walls break down, and defences collapse. Once that is put into use properly, the situation will immediately go from bad to worse."

The teenager fell silent, but he was still unwilling to give up. "But, father, the generals seem to have thought of a solution for that, haven’t they? Should we wait till then?"

Nikolay looked at him with a frown. "I am disappointed in you, Michael. Can’t you even see that there is no stopping the Bharatiya Army? Those four idiots can indeed set up some traps to trip up the enemy, but that’s all they can do. They can hold back the advancing army for a while, but can they hold back forever?"

"Remember, the strength of the enemy is over half a million troops, along with 300,000 troops in reserve, just twenty kilometres away. In front of such strength, all tricks and schemes are useless."

"So, if we want to survive, if our family wants to survive, we have no choice but to do this."

Michael became silent. In the depths of his heart, he knew that this was the truth, but he was simply unwilling to accept it, because he had a deep fondness for Alexander, his friend who was now the king. They had played together, they had grown up together. How could he bear to turn his back on his own friend, and not only that, potentially even kill him to appease the Bharatiyas?

Looking at the gloomy expression on his son’s face, Nikolay seemed to understand his worries, so he quickly reassured him. "Don’t worry, no harm will befall Alexander, because we cannot bear the consequences if anything were to happen to him."

Now, Michael was confused. "What do you mean, father? Are we not rebelling and siding with the Bharatiyas?"

"We are, but that does not mean that we have to eradicate the royal family. If we really do that, I think instead of saving our lives, we would be plunging ourselves directly into hell."

Seeing that his son still did not understand, he continued, "No matter how destitute Alexander has become, he is still the direct descendant of the Romanov family, the Russian royal family. If I kill Alexander in a hurry, who can guarantee that Emperor Peter, Alexander’s uncle, won’t be furious and get involved in the war? And who can guarantee that the Bharatiyas, in order to appease Emperor Peter, won’t offer our heads on a platter, who also happens to have an in-law relationship with the Emperor of the Bharatiya Empire, the Devaraya family?"

"So, the best solution is to imprison Alexander and offer him to the Bharatiya Empire as a political prisoner."

"This way, we can avoid any responsibility with respect to the Romanov family and can even save our skin." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Michael finally understood his father’s plan. "When do we act, father?"

"No hurry. I reckon that by the end of the day, the Bharatiyas will breach the wall. That will be our opportunity to take action. Until then, simply gather the men and have them ready."

"As you wish, father."

Nikolay looked towards the city wall, specifically at the large barracks, and let out a sigh as his gaze shifted from reluctance to firm determination.

Several days passed.

Sofia collapsed under the pressure of two forces, one from within and one from outside, tearing it apart. The last vestiges of the Slavic Byzantine Kingdom fell, and with the capture of King Alexander Dimitrivovich Romanov by the Bharatiya Empire, the remnants that retreated towards Kyiv lost their backbone as well.

Simultaneously, under constant bombardment and relentless assault, the city of Plovdiv also succumbed. Rudra Balachandran, who had been leading the battle for two days without a wink of sleep, finally stepped into the Maritza River, at last relaxing as he dipped into the water and washed the blood from his hands and body.