Chapter Twenty-Five: The Heist (Part Two)

Yes, Gamio and his men were repelled again and again. Although their numbers were not fewer than their opponents, and many of them wielded firearms, the guns on Gamio’s side were a motley assortment. Some used modified guns similar to those their adversaries carried, firing through ignition spells, while others relied on matchlocks. This lack of uniformity in weaponry meant that their attacks lacked the cohesion of their foes.

Fortunately, the dark elf Ismile arrived in time. Under his command, those with matchlocks, those with modified guns, and others with bows and javelins were swiftly organized into three squads. They then launched a fierce assault, each squad firing in volleys. While their attacks were still less coordinated than the enemy's, at least within each squad their rate of fire was consistent, making them much more effective than before.

Yet this still could not match the discipline of their adversaries. Their assault was driven back once more. Luckily, the enemy seemed reluctant to leave the convoy they were guarding.

Wei Wuji observed the scene. Even in terms of weaponry, the Revolutionary League was at a disadvantage. Their guns were similar to those he had encountered in the grand hall, but their opponents’ weapons seemed to forgo even the simplest ignition spell, further increasing their rate of fire and power. Last time, he had barely escaped from hundreds of guns. Now, with over a thousand enemies, even with the protection of his golden core, he would only deplete his shield halfway through a charge. There was no way through.

Thus, Wei Wuji decided to wait and see whether the dark elf Ismile had any aces up his sleeve. If this was all, he would have to slip away with Hegel and leave Cecily for another opportunity.

He was not disappointed. Ismile whistled, and from the other side of the forest came a thunderous roar. A band of massive figures emerged at the far end of the road, charging toward the convoy at lightning speed.

With his keen eyesight, Wei Wuji saw clearly—they were a group of giants, each over two meters tall, clad in leather armor, their arms covered in hair as thick as wool, their faces half-human, half-bear. Each wielded a broadsword and carried a round shield. Though the shields were large, in their hands they seemed small, barely enough to protect their heads and faces.

“Those are the Biel Bearfolk!” The convoy’s escort was the Third Battalion of the First Armored Division, Lantia’s finest, commanded by Colonel Aberdil. He raised his saber, signaling his orders. Two companies wheeled around, turning their guns on the rear, while the third continued to hold off the Revolutionary League in front.

Sharp gunfire rang out in a relentless cadence, thunderous and unyielding. The Biel Bearfolk roared in response. Despite their bulk, they moved with startling agility. Bullets struck their bodies, but their heads and faces were shielded, their torsos protected by leather armor, and not every shot landed true. Wounds to non-vital areas only enraged them further.

Bearfolk fell as they charged, for even Wei Wuji dared not face an entire battalion of musketeers head-on. Yet the Bearfolk pressed their attack with sheer numbers. Hundreds surged forward; those in front collapsed, only for those behind to trample over their fallen comrades without a second glance.

Had that been all, the Bearfolk would have suffered too many casualties to threaten Aberdil’s formation. As it happened, the Third Battalion had recently received new weapons: Hegel’s improved flintlocks. They’d been sent on this mission precisely because they were to deliver these weapons and ammunition to the garrison at Gaul City, replacing the old matchlocks and modified guns of the First Division with flintlocks.

But then, a piercing shriek split the air. Hundreds of black shapes swung from the trees, descending from above into the ranks of the musketeers. Some soldiers managed to fire upwards in time, shooting down dozens of these shadows, but most landed amidst their formation.

These figures were almost human in appearance, yet they more closely resembled Gamio, with tails of varying length protruding from beneath their garments—the Monk Beastfolk Gamio had mentioned.

The Monk Beastfolk attacked the Third Battalion. The soldiers fixed bayonets to their flintlocks, meeting the beastfolk in brutal close combat.

The battalion, about fifteen hundred strong, faced a fierce struggle. A Monk Beastfolk could rout two or three human soldiers in single combat, but when outnumbered, the disciplined humans proved more organized, quickly slaughtering the beastfolk who had landed among them.

Yet the incursion served its purpose: the formation was thrown into chaos, attacked at both ends, its center breached. With the precious time gained by the Monk Beastfolk’s assault, the Bearfolk’s resistance diminished—they drew ever closer. On the other side, the dark elf rallied his troops, preparing to deliver a decisive blow to the Third Battalion.

At that moment, Aberdil showed the qualities of an exceptional commander. He wisely ordered the First Company to hold off the dark elf’s assault, the Second Company to fix bayonets and quickly slaughter the Monk Beastfolk within their ranks, and the Third Company to load enchanted rounds and fire at the Bearfolk.

Enchanted ammunition was expensive; each soldier in the Third Company carried only five rounds, strictly reserved for emergencies. Only with the commanding officer’s order could they be used.

The first volley of enchanted rounds exploded in bursts of flame, inflicting heavy casualties on the Bearfolk—over thirty perished instantly. These rounds far surpassed ordinary flintlock bullets, imbued as they were with magical power, to which beastfolk were notoriously vulnerable.

But rather than instill fear, the Bearfolk’s bloodlust only intensified. Even after losing a quarter of their number, those who remained had closed half the distance. However, the ground still burned with the flames left by the enchanted rounds, slowing their advance.

To Wei Wuji’s eyes, even if the Third Battalion fired another volley of enchanted rounds, half the Bearfolk would still break into their formation. If so, the Revolutionary League would win. The Monk Beastfolk could be repelled by bayonets and superior numbers, but the Bearfolk, with their monstrous strength, were not so easily defeated once they broke through. Unless the Third Battalion could manage a third volley of enchanted rounds, their survival was uncertain.

Just then, five figures appeared between the Bearfolk and the Third Company: a knight, a mage, an archer, a red-haired female swordsman, and a monk whose stature rivaled the Bearfolk themselves.

The five-person Special Investigations Unit, dispatched by Warrenheit, arrived at this critical moment. Witnessing the Revolutionary League and the beastfolk attacking the Third Battalion, they stepped forward at the decisive instant.

Euclid lowered the visor of his helmet, drew his spear, and issued a command to his companions: “Attack!”