Snow fell thick upon the Takeda lands, blanketing the mountains and valleys in silent white. The cold bit through cloth and steel alike, turning breath into mist and rivers into frozen glass. For most armies, winter was a season of retreat, of hearth fires and empty granaries. But for Eugene, winter was opportunity.
[Strategic Analysis: Enemy forces entrenched in Ishikawa outpost along mountain pass. Estimated strength: 200 men. Environmental hazards: deep snow, freezing winds, limited supplies. Probability of success with Fifty Spears—conditional. Advantage: enemy morale low due to hunger and isolation.]
Eugene stood atop a snowy ridge, fur cloak drawn tightly around his armor, gazing down at the enemy camp nestled between jagged cliffs. Fires flickered weakly below, soldiers huddling for warmth.
Hiroshi stamped his boots in the snow beside him, spear slung over his shoulder. His breath steamed in the frigid air. "My lord, the men grow weary. We've marched for days without rest, and the cold gnaws at them worse than blades."
Eugene's eyes narrowed. "And yet the Ishikawa suffer twice as much. Hunger weakens the body, but cold…" He touched the hilt of his sword. "…cold kills the spirit."
He turned to face his Fifty Spears, lined in disciplined ranks behind him. Their cloaks were patched, their armor frosted white, yet their eyes burned with resolve.
"Tonight," Eugene declared, voice carrying across the snow, "we strike not only their bodies but their hearts. We will show them that even winter cannot stop us. We will paint this snow red with their defeat."
A low growl of approval rumbled from the men, their fatigue sharpened into fierce anticipation.
Night fell. The storm grew thicker, snow swirling like a veil. Using the cover of darkness and the howl of the wind, Eugene led his men down the mountain slope.
Their feet crunched in silence, every step measured. The AI guided him with precise adjustments.
[Wind speed: advantageous. Enemy visibility reduced. Recommended approach: flanking from eastern cliff, breach palisade silently before full alarm is raised.]
The Fifty Spears crawled through drifts of snow, pressing close to the outpost walls. Frost coated the wooden palisade, its guards slumped from exhaustion, barely keeping watch.
Eugene gestured, and two ashigaru scaled the wall with ropes, dispatching the drowsy sentries with muffled blades. Soon, a section of the gate creaked open, and the Fifty Spears poured inside like shadows.
The attack began with fire.
Eugene hurled torches onto the thatched roofs, and flames spread greedily through the dry straw. Bandits and soldiers alike stumbled from their tents, half-dressed, weapons clutched in shaking hands.
"Enemy attack!" a voice shrieked, cut short by Hiroshi's spear piercing his chest.
"Spears forward!" Eugene commanded.
The Fifty Spears formed a wedge and drove through the panicked camp. Their yaris gleamed red in the firelight as they cut down enemy after enemy, snow churning beneath their feet.
Eugene moved at the front, his blade flashing with cold precision. Every swing ended a life, every thrust found a throat or heart. The AI tracked the flow of battle like a map in his mind.
[Enemy formation disorganized. Recommended push: center collapse. Priority target: commander's tent.]
At the far end of the camp, the Ishikawa captain emerged, wrapped in heavy armor, a nodachi in his grip. His voice boomed above the chaos.
"Hold, damn you! They are few—crush them!"
Rallying what remained of his men, he charged at the head of thirty soldiers, his massive blade cleaving through the snow.
Eugene stepped forward to meet him, Hiroshi and a handful of samurai at his side.
The clash was brutal. Spears bristled against nodachi, steel rang against steel, and screams pierced the night.
The captain swung with monstrous strength, shattering spears and scattering ashigaru. Hiroshi intercepted one blow, but the force sent him stumbling, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Lord Eugene!" he shouted. "He's mine—"
"No," Eugene cut him off, stepping forward. "He's mine."
The captain laughed as he loomed over Eugene. "So you are the boy genius. Let us see if your legend keeps you warm when I split you in two!"
He brought his nodachi down with a roar. Eugene sidestepped, the blade burying itself in the snow. In an instant, he countered, slashing across the captain's arm. Blood sprayed.
The captain bellowed, swinging wildly, but Eugene's movements were fluid, precise. Every strike he dodged by inches, every counter left a new wound.
[Enemy stamina depleting. Weakness: overcommitment in downward strikes. Probability of victory: 84%.]
The duel raged in the snow, firelight reflecting in their blades. Then, as the captain raised his nodachi overhead for one final, desperate strike, Eugene moved.
He stepped inside the swing, his katana slicing upward in a perfect arc—clean through the man's neck.
The captain's head toppled into the snow, rolling crimson across the white ground.
For a moment, silence fell. Then the Ishikawa soldiers broke, terror consuming them. They fled into the night, abandoning the camp to the flames.
By dawn, the outpost was a charred ruin. Snow melted into rivers of blood, corpses scattered across the frozen ground.
The Fifty Spears, though battered and frostbitten, stood victorious.
Hiroshi leaned on his spear, his breath ragged. "We… we did it, my lord. Even winter could not break us."
Eugene looked at his men, pride swelling in his chest. "You endured hunger. You endured cold. And still you triumphed. Remember this day. Even the harshest winter cannot stop the fire of warriors united."
The men raised their weapons high, their voices hoarse but fierce.
"Victory! For Lord Eugene!"
The AI whispered quietly in Eugene's mind.
[Mission complete. Casualties: 12. Enemy casualties: 170, survivors scattered. Strategic impact: Ishikawa supply line severed. Morale of Fifty Spears: hardened further by endurance of extreme conditions.]
Eugene gazed at the rising sun, its golden light spilling across the snowy battlefield. Blood on the snow. The first of many winters I will claim as mine.
His grip tightened on his sword. One step closer. One step closer to my kingdom.