The hivemind is conquering for me? Chapter 764: Step 9: Standard Bearer

Navigating through the camp, I pulled my second-in-command, Skaja, from her power nap and proceeded to the front lines.

Exchanging my tactical rock for a tactical tank, I mounted the vehicle, marveling at its futuristic design reminiscent of tanks from my past knowledge, before rising tall and rallying the troops with Psionic amplification.

"Brothers and sisters!" I bellowed, instantly capturing the focus of thousands. Then I gestured toward the distant fortress behind me.

"The weak and cowardly Drakoshi have dared to attempt to lay siege to one of our worlds! They dare to build their buildings on our sovereign soil! We shall not let this stand! No! We shall deny them their ’claim’ on this world.

We will deny them victory this day and the days to come, as we have denied victory to all enemies of Spartari for millennia!

You are the Phalanx! The brave sons and daughters of our empire! The shield between alien tyranny and freedom! So we do not fight for ourselves this day! We fight so all the sacrifices of our forefathers, our ancestors, were not in vain.

We fight! So the human spirit lives on! We fight! Because we must! For our homes! For our families! For Spartari!

Now join me brothers and sisters! Let us march on and greet these Drakoshi with our wrath! Let them have a taste of our empire’s ancient vengeance!"

A thunderous wave of cheers erupted, followed by "AOU! AOU! AOU!"

Nerissa, standing beside me, chimed in. "My lord, it sounds like you have overcome your fear of public speaking!"

Turning to her with confusion etched across my features, I replied, "I already gave it? What did I say? I think I blacked out because there are so many people looking at me." I glanced back at the exhilarated Phalanx, disregarding Nerissa's stunned expression, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, looks like they enjoyed it." I whispered to myself before shouting to a nearby centurion.

"We march as soon as we are ready!"

The Centurion snapped a salute, and orders rippled through the camp and over communications. The moment had arrived to execute my battle plan.

...

With tanks rumbling forward and arraying themselves across the ranks in a dispersed checkerboard pattern, I nodded approvingly.

The Spartari codex of war heavily favored the human wave tactic for assaults, and I couldn't fault them for it. Possessing innumerable worlds for recruitment and conscription, they could replace losses within a day and start training fresh Phalanx. From my eavesdropping, some planets existed solely to produce soldiers.

Typically, they'd launch a wave backed by a modest group of heavy armor providing rear support.

That wasn't my approach. When I proposed integrated unit tactics, the other generals dismissed it as obsolete and wastefully costly to expose tanks up front...

I schooled them on the true purpose of tanks, but it fell on deaf ears like nonsense. They fixated solely on production expenses... Prioritizing resources over lives.

Should a tank fall, much of it remains recoverable post-battle, its components reusable for rebuilding. But one stray bullet fells a soldier—poof! Lost forever.

The debate dragged on until I declared, ’I am a sentinel; costs don’t matter in this war, ok?’ Suddenly, they embraced the strategy. They even engaged their minds, assisting in optimally positioning infantry amid the tanks to cut casualties.

From the corner of my eye, a Castellan started shifting position. Their role in this fight was straightforward: one had already veered south with the secondary force, the other lingering here. Spotting that massive Drakoshi mech, they'd link up and unleash a barrage on it.

Against the Drakoshi, they could employ only light armaments—no larger than autocannons.

I'd handed control of the remaining knights and their order to Cassian. He understood his forces best and knew ideal placements. My choice proved spot-on.

The knights showed no fear. His pages and squires blended into the Phalanx ranks, positioned a few tank columns rearward. Regardless of tactic perfection, the vanguard bore the brunt...

He and his knights, however, occupied staggered spots in the checkerboard, Cassian anchoring the forefront. His blade and ornate shield would inspire tremendous morale.

Catching my stare, Cassian approached, saluted, and said, "Lord Sentinel, I have a request, if you would honour me by listening?"

"Speak, Cassian."

The mech plunged its sword into the earth, thumped its hull, and beckoned someone forward.

Glancing toward his gesture, a brother knight advanced, clutching a staff bearing what seemed like a flag. However, it resembled an elaborate tapestry more, thanks to its lavish embellishments. The golden and silver trims surrounding the central red eight-pointed star—their order's emblem—appeared forged from genuine precious metals.

I opted to disregard the fleur-de-lys-style designs in the corners, chalking it up to yet another oddity, right before Cassian addressed me.

"My Lord, while you are not of our order. To have you, a sentinel, lead our order standard into battle would be a tremendous honour. It would make your already large frame stand out even more when strapped on your back. Soldiers in the rear would see your standard still flying high and would keep the hope and determination in their hearts roaring loud!"

Descending from the tank, I faced Cassian. "The honour would be mine, Cassian. Your order has shown great valour in the short time we have known one another. Affix it."

After a few resounding clangs from hefty metal hands pounding my back, the standard was secured. Towering as high as myself, placed midway along my frame, it made me tower even more prominently now. "How do I look?" I questioned those close by. Cassian remained mute; I swear I detected sniffles filtering through his vocalizer, though I brushed... that aside.

Next, I faced Skaja, who nodded approvingly while spreading her golden wings. "You look majestic Apollo. Back bling is also a positive in my book. Makes you stand out."

Her remark drew a chuckle from me. "Yes, I can see why you would think that Skaja."

Sithrik, who had stayed hidden and quiet amid all the humans, materialized atop the tank and commented. "Darling, the ornament makes you look far more imposing. The artificial height will surely have psychological effects against the enemy."

I then turned to Nerissa and smiled at her. "Ness? Thoughts?

...

Nerissa's heart pounded rapidly as her eyes fixed on Apollo. She sensed something amiss within her, yet her armor's diagnostics only reported an accelerated pulse and no other issues.

’It must be a side effect of this second bloom? It must.’ She pondered inwardly, suddenly recalling that Apollo had posed a question and she hadn’t replied yet.

Scanning him once more, her heartbeat surged further; this couldn’t continue. Why was he gazing at her in that manner?

She had to halt it.

...

"You look incredible Apollo! Spectacular! Oh look, I think we are about to start our assault. Let’s get ready to move!"

I acknowledged Nerissa’s enthusiastic reply with a nod, observing her stride to the column’s forefront. Her fresh bloom surge clearly brimmed her with vigor—this boded well, slashing the Drakoshi’s survival odds even lower.

Swiveling toward Cassian, I voiced one final request. "Cassian, If I may? Could I ask a favour?"

The knight commander snapped a salute. "Of course, my lord, ask away."

I gestured upward at the standard. "Well, with this thing on my back and me right at the front line, I’m certain I’ll draw heavy fire. Any possibility I could... ’Requisition’ a knight shield? The smallest one available, ideally, since I can handle the load, but something your size might prove a tad cumbersome."

"!!!"

Cassian jerked abruptly before whirling to another mech and shouting with excitement. "Quartermaster Quintis, Fetch my buckler. It would be perfect for our Sentinel here."

The Quartermaster saluted sharply then dashed away.

"A buckler?" I queried, and Cassian affirmed with a nod.

"Oh yes, war loot from an Orpik mech I slayed over a decade ago. It’s made of Damatrium as those aliens, I will begrudgingly admit, are very adept at crafting with it, but we did it up and made it one of my tools of war. I haven’t used it in years though. I prefer a larger shield to a buckler, but for you, it should be a perfect gift."

The quartermaster rushed back bearing this ‘buckler,’ widening my eyes. Not due to its elaborate craftsmanship—the eight-pointed star mirroring the order’s symbol—or the lavish engravings adorning it.

But because, as I grasped the ‘buckler,’ it was anything but small. To me, it formed a massive, sturdy metal Hoplon capable of shielding much of my form. It was ideal.