Major Hoffmann was stunned for less than half a second.
Because what happened next directly caused his brain to crash.
Right before his eyes, Morin forcefully broke open the still-steaming break-action double-barreled shotgun with both hands. The two spent casings popped out smoothly, propelled by the ejectors.
Simultaneously, a pale blue, translucent hand materialized out of thin air. It drew two bear slugs from the shotgun ammo pouch on Morin's chest, floated in mid-air tracing an arc, and dropped them precisely into the open chambers.
"Click."
The breech snapped shut. The entire process took less than a second.
Major Hoffmann's mouth hung wide open for a long time. The several Saxon soldiers beside him were also dumbfounded.
For them, this was probably the first time seeing the actual effects of "magic" at such close range.
"Colonel..."
Just as Major Hoffmann was about to say something, he found Morin had already turned to look at him.
"Major Hoffmann, gather the men you have on hand and prepare for a counter-charge."
"A... a counter-charge?!"
Hoffmann almost bit his tongue—their third line of defense was nearly overturned, and Colonel Morin actually wanted to counter-charge?
Was this a joke?
It wasn't just him; the surviving officers and soldiers nearby all widened their eyes, clearly not expecting Morin's first order upon arriving to be this.
However, Morin didn't give them any time to digest it.
Because a second "Vukodlak" had already darted out from the corner of the collapsed communication trench, its four legs kicking against the ground as it charged ferociously toward them. Morin took a quick glance at the distance and direction, raised his gun, and fired.
"Bang!"
The bear slug shrieked through the air, but the monster's reaction speed was absurdly fast—it actually brought a thick forearm across its body mid-charge.
A muffled sound of shattering bone echoed far in the night wind. The massive kinetic energy of the bear slug blew the monster's forearm into mincemeat below the elbow, leaving a bloody gash across its chest.
But this "Vukodlak" merely let out a roar mixing pain and fury. Instead of slowing down, it lunged forward even faster. Morin didn't retreat.
He even proactively took a step forward. Then, the instant the monster pounced, he executed a clean one-handed forward roll.
The monster's intact claw swept across the spot where he had just stood. The five sharp talons produced several shrieks in the air, tearing five deep gouges into the trench wall.
Meanwhile, Morin, having completed the roll, bounced up from the ground. The muzzle of his shotgun was practically pressed against the back of the monster's head.
"Bang!"
At this point-blank range, the effect of the large-caliber bear slug was brutal.
The "Vukodlak's" head, along with most of its skull, exploded. Dark fragments and liquid sprayed everywhere.
Propelled by inertia, the massive body slid forward two more steps before crashing heavily into the bottom of the trench with a "thud," splashing mud and water. But Morin, having completed his second kill, didn't stop, because he sensed the wind shift behind him.
He lunged forward abruptly as the air behind him was violently churned—a third "Vukodlak" pounced down from above almost silently.
Its razor-sharp claws scraped past Morin's back, missing by less than ten centimeters.
Then, Major Hoffmann saw a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.
Morin's right hand still held the gun. The ammunition once again flew out of his chest pouch out of thin air to reload.
Meanwhile, dropping his hips and pivoting on his feet, Morin threw his left fist directly to meet the sneak-attacking "Vukodlak." It wasn't a dodge.
It wasn't a block.
It was a true man-to-man, head-on clash of fists!
"Boom!"
The instant fist and claw collided, a visible shockwave blasted outward between them. Loose dirt from the sides of the trench shook loose and fell rustling down.
And that gray monster—at least several heads taller and twice as broad as Morin—was actually knocked back two staggering steps by this punch. Its heel snagged on a corpse at the bottom of the trench, and it nearly fell.
"My God... what did I just see?"
Major Hoffmann completely lost track of what expression he should have in the face of this scene.
He instinctively gripped his submachine gun tighter, but his body froze completely in place.
"Why do I feel... like the Colonel is more like a monster?"
The battalion adjutant beside him popped out this sentence, his voice half terrified and half joking.
No one answered him, because everyone was transfixed by the scene before them.
Before the staggered "Vukodlak" could stabilize itself, Morin had already closed the distance.
In those fractions of a second during the clash, [Mage Hand] had already completed reloading the shotgun.
Stepping forward with his left foot, Morin cut into the monster's defensive opening from the side. The shotgun muzzle thrust directly under the monster's jaw.
"Bang!"
That large-caliber bear slug punched upwards through the entire cranial cavity of the "Vukodlak."
The monster's head snapped back violently. Bone fragments and gray brain matter flew into the night sky, forming an eerie "firework" under the white light of the flares. Three heads.
From the moment Morin appeared at the 4th Battalion's position to now, barely dozens of seconds had passed.
Three "Vukodlak" that had thrown an entire battalion into chaos and caused heavy casualties were dispatched by him just like that, cleanly and efficiently. The trench was dead silent—no, to be precise, all the Saxon and Austro-Hungarian soldiers were stunned.
Major Hoffmann finally understood those nicknames for Colonel Morin circulating outside.
"Mage Killer"...
"The Butcher"...
And the new nickname recently gaining traction in the Army—the "Blade of the Empire."
To a junior officer like Major Hoffmann, these nicknames were previously just rumors, topics of conversation during private chats among officers. But now, Major Hoffmann and the others had a much more visceral understanding of these nicknames.
Or rather, they linked the image these nicknames conveyed with Morin.
While Hoffmann's brain was still spinning, the dense sound of hoofbeats suddenly arose from behind the position.
He instinctively poked his head out of the trench. Under the light of the continuously launched flares, a large number of Saxon cavalry were galloping over from the rear.
As the riders of the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment approached the end of the communication trench, they executed a beautiful, synchronized arc maneuver.
The horses' hooves kicked up large splatters of mud. As they turned, the riders raised their cavalry lances and the newly issued semi-automatic rifles from horseback.
"Bang, bang, bang, bang!"
A coordinated volley poured down from horseback. The bullets accurately swept towards two "Vukodlak" exposed at the edge of the communication trench. Although it didn't cause much damage, the superb mounted archery skills of these Guard Reserve cavalrymen forced the two monsters to raise their arms to protect their heads. And when they tried to chase the cavalry, the warhorses had already gained distance after completing their turn, and the riders turned back for another volley. Kiting, the most classic of classic mounted archery tactics.
The two "Vukodlak" were enraged by this tactic, but they didn't dare rush out of the communication trench easily and could only howl dryly. However, they soon couldn't afford to care about these annoying cavalrymen.
Because more footsteps surged from behind the position.
The 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the Instruction Unit.
These "battle-hardened veterans" who had followed Morin all the way from the Western Front to the gates of Paris, and then from Paris to the Balkan Peninsula, maintained their tactical formation and rapidly poured into the third trench line.
Their arrival formed a stark contrast with the trembling soldiers in the position.
No hesitation, no wasted movements, and certainly no fear of the monsters before them...
The MG14 light machine gun squads quickly found firing positions. As the gunner dropped to one knee, the assistant gunner already had the spare ammo belt ready. The riflemen in the squads knelt in cover on both sides of the communication trench, the muzzles of their semi-automatic rifles and submachine guns pointing steadily in the direction the monsters might appear.
A "Vukodlak" charging out from a communication trench junction didn't even have time to open its mouth to howl before it was forced onto the defensive by crossfire pouring in from three directions simultaneously.
Immediately following, a cluster grenade bound with cloth strips flew out from an unknown trench corner.
"Boom!"
The explosion flipped the monster head over heels, scattering dirt everywhere.
Before the flying mud could settle, a combat engineer poked halfway out from behind the trench lip, the nozzle of his flamethrower aimed at the still-struggling target.
"Fwoosh!"
An orange-yellow fire dragon rushed out, engulfing the monster along with half a wooden plank in the trench.
Tactics, mounting guns, crossfire, cluster grenades, flamethrowers...
A set of "combos" executed smoothly and seamlessly.
This was the level of the 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the Instruction Unit. It wasn't just a few elite soldiers who were fierce; the entire company bore the "battle-hardened" modifier. And this tactic of the 1st Company veterans also made them the most "conspicuous" presence across the entire 4th Battalion position, because in their area, "Vukodlak" were constantly being killed.
Soon, a long, drawn-out wolf howl came from the distance.
All the "Vukodlak" still rampaging in various trench sections paused for a moment, then unanimously charged towards the 1st Company's position. But the problem was, it wasn't just 1st Company veterans here...
In fact, the greatest threat to these "Vukodlak" across the entire position was actually Morin.
Major Hoffmann also soon saw four "General's Bodyguard" soldiers wearing full plate armor. These armored supermen were currently charging to the front from behind Morin.
They were exactly the four who had been wounded in the previous "Christmas Campaign," having returned to Morin's side after recovering from their respective injuries.
In the series of battles after entering the Austro-Hungarian Empire, these "armored supermen" actually didn't have many opportunities to take the stage, often acting as guards for the regimental headquarters under Morin's orders.
After all, Kleist and Manstein weren't "supermen" like Morin.
As "armored supermen" who had undergone physical augmentation surgeries, their attributes in all aspects were already substantially superior to ordinary soldiers.
And now, with the [Enhance Ability - Bull's Strength] buff cast on them by Morin, the armored supermen could also briefly arm-wrestle the "Vukodlak" through mutual coordination.
Just like right now.
The leading General's Bodyguard soldier, holding a round shield in one hand and a short sword in the other, directly met a pouncing "Vukodlak" the moment he entered the trench.
Man and beast quickly clashed. The monster's claws striking the round shield produced a piercing sound of metal grinding. The armored warrior's feet slid back, leaving two deep gouges in the dirt.
But he wasn't flipped over. Instead, he neutralized the monster's offensive momentum with a deflecting maneuver, then planted himself firmly in place like a nail. While he held the "aggro" of this "Vukodlak" tightly, the other three General's Bodyguard soldiers, wielding greatswords and carrying a modified MG08 heavy machine gun, had already flanked it from three different angles.
Greatswords hacked at the monster's hind legs, while the heavy machine gun poured ammunition directly into its head from a distance of five meters.
"Major Hoffmann!"
The battalion adjutant vigorously shook Hoffmann, who was dumbfounded by this scene.
The latter finally snapped back to reality. Grabbing his submachine gun, he ran toward the other end of the trench, simultaneously pulling an assault whistle from under his collar and blowing it. Morin and the "battle-hardened veterans" had already cleared the path. Next, shouldn't they, the Guard soldiers, also play some role? While the fighting continued across the various positions of the "Morin Kampfgruppe," the Serbian Third and Fourth Divisions, blocked for a day and a night, were thoroughly kept awake by the commotion over here.
The nearest engagement was less than five kilometers away in a straight line.
Flares continuously bloomed in the northern sky, interspersed with the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and faint, hair-raising howls. The two division commanders gathered once again in the forward command post within that small grove.
There was no arguing this time.
Because just before the night fighting broke out, the Third Army sent a new order via radio—and this time it wasn't an ambiguous notification, but a clear combat directive.
"The 2nd Battalion of the 0th Special Pioneer Regiment launched a raid against the Saxon troops intercepting your units tonight, aiming to dismantle their defense line.
Your units are ordered to launch an all-out offensive at dawn tomorrow, coordinating with the Pioneer Regiment's actions to open a breakout corridor.
The vanguard units of the Third Army will simultaneously press in from the north, forming a pincer movement with your units."
Attached at the bottom of the telegram was a code from the Third Army—this code had been agreed upon during previous joint exercises of various corps within the army group, known only to officers of division commander rank and above on both sides.
The moment he saw this signature code, the expression of the previously skeptical 4th Division commander finally softened.
"This code... is real."
He set down the telegram paper and let out a long breath.
The 3rd Division commander slammed his fist on the camp table, his tone mixing relief and lingering fear.
"I told you so! The Third Army wouldn't abandon us! And it's impossible for the Saxons to have this signature code—unless they captured the commander of our Third Army too!"
The 4th Division commander ignored his comment, looking down at the various combat areas marked on the map.
"'Vukodlak'..." he muttered the word, his brow twitching involuntarily.
Both division commanders knew the background of this special unit.
This was considered one of the most important supernatural combat forces of the Kingdom of Greater Serbia. In the previous Balkan Wars, these "Vukodlak" had already played a decisive role in night raids.
However, just thinking about how those monsters looked when they lost control in a blood frenzy still made cold sweat seep from the backs of the two generals.
This was also why they didn't launch an attack right now.
One reason was that the training level of the Serbian army didn't support them launching large-scale night attacks.
Another reason was that "Vukodlak" in a combat state were actually very difficult to coordinate with friendly forces and highly prone to causing friendly fire... So generally, the "Vukodlak" were sent to launch night raids and breach enemy positions. Once their transformation duration ended at daybreak, follow-up infantry would advance to complete the final breakthrough.
"They deployed all those monsters..." the 4th Division commander muttered in a low voice. "It seems the army group headquarters is really anxious... Tomorrow's attack cannot be as reckless as today's."
"What are your thoughts?" the 3rd Division commander asked.
"Taking advantage of the 'Vukodlak' disrupting the enemy's positions, we must concentrate all our forces to punch through at one point."
"Which point?"
The 4th Division commander drew a line on the map with his finger, finally stopping at one location.
"Here."
What the 4th Division commander pointed to was a juncture in the middle of the "Morin Kampfgruppe's" string of defensive positions.
"Although the daytime attacks were beaten back, our scouts didn't return completely empty-handed... There is a gap between these two positions, about two hundred meters wide, obscured by a patch of low shrubs."
"If the 'Vukodlak' can pin down the Saxon defenders on both sides during the night, at daybreak we concentrate the strength of a regiment to forcefully wedge through this gap and split their defense line..."
The 3rd Division commander stared at that location for several seconds, finally nodding slowly.
"We gamble."
"Yes, we gamble."
"But..."
The 3rd Division commander changed the subject, his voice carrying undisguised worry:
"Do you think those Saxons... can they withstand a night raid by the 'Vukodlak'?"
This question silenced the 4th Division commander as well.
Based on past experience, no army had been able to maintain an intact defense line under a night raid by the "Vukodlak." The Austro-Hungarian troops were the best example—their positions collapsed overnight.
But the problem was, this wasn't the first time the Saxons opposite them had "broadened their horizons."
That absurd firepower density during the day, the easily destroyed Armored Knights...
"We can't worry about that much."
The 4th Division commander gritted his teeth and said:
"Even if they can withstand it, the 'Vukodlak' will definitely make them pay a massive price... When we launch our attack at daybreak, their ammunition and troop strength will be at their lowest point—this is our only chance."
"Pass the order down," he turned to the staff officers.
"All units are to move to their jump-off positions. Distribute all remaining ammunition down to the individual soldiers. Launch an all-out attack upon hearing the signal flare at dawn."
"Tell all battalion and company commanders, this is the last chance! If we charge through, we live! If we don't..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Everyone in the tent knew what the second half of the sentence was.
The orders were swiftly relayed down.
In the final darkness before dawn, over thirty thousand Serbian soldiers silently climbed out of their makeshift bunkers and moved along predetermined routes toward their attack jump-off positions.
The battle raged on into the late hours of the night.
After Morin led the reserves into the 4th Battalion's position, the originally precarious situation was finally turned around.
The veterans of the 1st Battalion, 1st Company, using their signature tactical style, isolated and eliminated the "Vukodlak" that had poured into the trench zone one by one. And the riders of the 5th Guard Reserve Cavalry Regiment continuously harassed with mounted archery on the perimeter of the position, firmly pinning down those monsters attempting to climb out of the trenches.
Morin himself, along with the four armored supermen, formed an "assault core" that could not be ignored.
Although the armored warriors still found it very strenuous when grappling closely with the "Vukodlak" even with the [Enhance Ability - Bull's Strength] buff, relying on superb coordination and excellent deflecting techniques, they could at least hold the "aggro" of one or two monsters.
And when the monsters' attention was drawn, the double-barreled shotgun in Morin's hands became the terminator.
His movement speed, reaction capabilities, and that strength far exceeding ordinary humans due to potion modification, were pushed to their limits in this close-quarters combat within narrow spaces.
Every bear slug was put to optimal use; virtually none were wasted.
And the soldiers of the 4th Battalion across the trenches, upon seeing the performance of the reserves and Colonel Morin, finally saw the morale that had been crushed by the monsters reignite.
Including those Austro-Hungarian remnants—although most of them possessed poor combat skills, having been swept up into the battle with no way out, the bullets they fired blindly still had some effect.
Lieutenant Colonel Strauss even personally led a group of Austro-Hungarian soldiers, using stick grenades scavenged from the trenches to block the entrance to a communication trench, forcibly severely injuring two "Vukodlak" attempting to breach it.
Although the final kills were completed by a flamethrower squad that rushed over—at least this time, the Austro-Hungarian soldiers didn't drop the ball.
As the night gradually faded and the fish-belly white on the horizon began to eat away at the darkness, the intensity of the battle on the position also gradually decreased.
The number of remaining "Vukodlak" was already low.
And the movements of those monsters that could still move became noticeably sluggish—their grayish-brown fur began falling out in patches, revealing the pale, vein-covered human skin underneath.
Morin noticed this change.
And he also verified it from a glance at the [Intelligence] page—the transformation state of the "Vukodlak" has a time limit. Usually, after lasting about six to eight hours at night, the modified bodies begin to gradually regress back to a form approaching human.
"Combat power is dropping..." Morin muttered to himself in a low voice.
Just as he spoke, a "Vukodlak" that had lost most of its fur darted out from a trench corner.
Its size had noticeably shrunk, and the proportions of its limbs were returning toward human.
But its scarlet pupils hadn't faded yet, and jagged fangs still hung in its mouth.
Seeing Morin, it let out a hoarse growl—no longer the deafening roar from before, but more like a human with a torn throat forcing out a sound.
Morin raised his shotgun.
The monster lunged, but its speed was at least a third slower than before.
"Bang."
Its head exploded.
The last "Vukodlak" fell in the second trench line of the 4th Battalion's position. Its body shrank rapidly as it twitched, ultimately turning into a human corpse significantly more muscular than an average adult male.
Morin stood in place and watched for a few seconds, then broke open the breech, ejecting the two empty casings.
"So every country is sparing no effort in this regard..."