The Elf Saint is a NEET, so I Forced Her to Work in Another World

Final Confrontation (Part 1)

**Kuro**

Our general advance bogged down as the undead resistance became fiercer each time we took territory. So, we stopped the march to regroup, and held on, forming three lines of 'defense' made of elvish soldiers.

"..."

The Black God landed somewhere in the tree palace complex, where he got obscured from our views by the rushing undead towards our positions. I wanted to check on him, but I had to command the defense of our footholds, as the wights—though our soldiers resisted them—was in danger of overwhelming us. Not to mention, I couldn't just cut through the undead. The fight earlier exhausted our regiments, and we hadn't taken our rests before they went on the offensive.

Nevertheless, I hoped that the airborne regiments, as well as the army of Berondin attacking from the flanks would reach him in time. Besides, he's a god and a warrior, too; he should hold on his own...

Meanwhile, the artillery shells and bullet stocks we had at the beaches were slowly dwindling, with the reserves still being unloaded at the port village. Some couriers fell when the wights, jumping from the tree palace canopy, ambushed them, leading to delays in our supplies reaching the frontlines.

For this, the tanks began to shine. Taking on the responsibility for the supply runs, the armored behemoths were impervious to arrows, and ambushes from the wights. Even better was the possibility of crushing those walking corpses, should it place itself on the routes of these vehicles, eliminating the threat it posed. Fortunately, as the magicians put up their barriers, the tanks were unaffected by yesterday's problem regarding the Seductress' 'influence' on the engines.

As for the performance of the soldiers of the expeditionary army, I'd say they were crack-shots, just like their 'cousins' in Cherwoods. If they wanted to hit the head of their enemies, they would hit it with ease. That's why, even from afar, our elves could shred a wight to pieces in a matter of seconds.

However, we're still in danger of getting overwhelmed.

Well, our forces possessed no machine guns; its rapid rate of fire could've helped us stave off the mindless assault of the undead. The bolt-heaters' limitations—like cocking the firing mechanism each time it was fired, or the fouling caused the soldiers to change barrels every certain number of bullets fired—made the ground between our soldiers and them smaller as minutes passed. While this was not Isandlwana, I couldn't help but draw a parallel to ours and that old battle from my world's history.

The wights' lack of sense of preservation made them the perfect cannon fodder for our forces.

As the undead reached the first line of defense, the elves holding the front switched to their melee weapons and hacked the corpses with impunity. Rifle butts, fists and stones flew, along with bayonets, daggers, bullets...and limbs. When arrows also rained from above, we took in lots of casualties. Seeing the first line faltering, I took a rifle from a fallen elf, put on the bayonet, and rushed to the frontlines to lead the fight from there.

"Sir!" I heard my senior commanders call out to me. However, this was not the time to think of my safety; our morale was in danger, and the soldiers needed someone to carry the battle for them.

"!!!" I struck the nearest wight on its chest, pushing it down the ground. Then, once the undead fell, I crushed its head with the rifle butt, before swinging it to my next target, whose head flew the moment it was hit by my makeshift club. When in melee combat with the undead, it's always recommended to crush the teeth of the creatures you're fighting when the opportunity came, so they wouldn't bite through the flesh and transfer the magic, or virus, unto its victim. After all, the more elves we could keep from turning undead, the more favorable for our forces.