Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Additionally, three heavy cannons were positioned here.

The gunners were busily engaged beside the cannons.

However, apart from the gunners, there was a person wearing a mask by the cannons.

Once a cannon had been loaded, the masked person walked over to it; no linstock or red-hot poker was in sight. The person simply held a hand above the cannon. Enjoy more content from empire

The next second, with a roar, the cannonball hurtled forth.

The gunners repositioned the cannon, quickly began to clean the bore, and reloaded.

"With just the two of us against over a dozen gunners, it simply won't do," Bard whispered to Winters. "Wait for the others to get here."

Winters, with a grave expression, drew out a steel spike to clutch in his palm. He said to Bard with difficulty, "It's not the dozen or so gunners I'm worried about... we might have encountered..."

From around the corner of the attic came the battle cries in a familiar Venetian accent, obviously signifying that their own men had attacked up another passage to the roof.

Bard immediately gripped his sword, ready to charge out and attack the gunners on the roof from both sides.

But Winters grabbed Bard, gesturing for him to be silent.

On the roof, the gunners wanted to flee, but in the presence of the mask wearer's tyranny, they dared not. The masked person seemed unconcerned with the enemies before him.

Several Venetians and Herders surged from the stairwell, with one Venetian soldier at the front charging at the masked person with his sword raised.

However, the masked person stood motionless, simply standing with hands clasped behind his back, watching Winters's men.

Before even reaching the masked person, the Venetian soldier collapsed, blood flowing from all orifices.

Next, the masked person turned his gaze toward the other Herders. Simply by looking, the Herders dropped dead one by one, blood oozing from their orifices.

The whole process took just a few blinks, as if the masked person's gaze severed the threads of life of those he looked upon.

The cruel, efficient, and ruthless process of life being snuffed out sent shivers down Bard's spine.

Bard noticed that Winters's knuckles had turned white from clenching so hard, his chest heaved, and his eyes were blood red. The fury in his chest almost ignited his hair.

The last Herder didn't even get close to the masked person. Yelling in the Herders' tongue that Winters couldn't understand, he threw his javelin at the masked person.

This time, however, the masked person did not dodge as composedly as before, avoiding the javelin with an ungainly maneuver.

Winters narrowed his eyes.

Just at this moment, a raspy voice with a Tanilian accent shouted from the stairwell, "Defeat! We are defeated! The captain is dead! Captain Kidd is dead! Red Sulfur Harbor is gone! Run for it…"

This cry was the final straw that broke the camel's back. The gunners, who were already wanting to flee, didn't see who took the lead, but scattered in every direction.

The masked person shouted angrily, "Come back!"

But speaking in Common, whether the gunners understood or not, they ran without looking back.

Some of the gunners even ran toward Winters's position.

The masked person, however, did not chase in their direction but followed the sound of Gold's voice down the stairwell.

Winters and Bard immediately followed with long strides, but as they were halfway there, the masked person returned from the stairwell.

Winters cursed loudly and flung a steel spike at the masked person.

As soon as the masked person saw Winters, Winters also caught sight of the masked person.

The moment the masked person's gaze fell upon Winters, Winters felt an intense pain in his skull, his consciousness blurred, and the steel spike missed by two inches, flying past the masked person's ear.

Bard charged with his sword raised, but the masked person turned his gaze toward Bard.

With the last of his strength, Winters pulled Bard back.

"Run! Bard! Run!" he struggled to spit out the words.

Just as the threads of life for Winters and Bard were about to be cut, suddenly a gloomy guttural sound echoed across the top of the parapet.

The masked person screamed, as if suffering immense pain, and Winters, on the brink of death, was pulled back from the line of death. Struggling, he drew another steel spike from his belt.

The masked person, in agony, chanted in the ancient language of the Ancient Empire, "Gather flames to blaze!"

"Pu." That was the sound of something bursting open.

The masked man's expression instantly relaxed, his agony having greatly subsided.

The next second, a steel spike was driven into the back of his head, bursting out of his eyes.

Before the masked man could fall, Winters had already roared and charged to his side. He thrust his sword into the masked man's heart, violently stirring it, then pulled out his curved blade and left a deep, bone-deep cut on the masked man's neck.

After doing all this, Winters who confirmed that the masked man was dead beyond any doubt, went downstairs panting heavily.

The very thing he least wanted to happen still occurred, amid the swirling smoke, several Herders were weeping loudly around a corpse with a dreadful death expression.

The corpse's head was completely blown open, much like a watermelon burst from within.

It was impossible to recognize the deceased, but Winters knew who lay there.

Feeling as if all his strength had been drained, he knelt beside the body, tears streaming unstoppable: "Old man..."

"It was Hestas who saved us, right?" Bard also came down, asking with difficulty. His condition was even worse than Winters's, he could hardly stand steady.

Winters didn't speak, only took off his clothes to cover the upper body of the old Shaman and picked up his body: "We need to take him home."

In the smoke, another group of people quietly approached; seeing it was Winters and Bard, they breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's almost collapsing! Let's go! It's fucking too late if we don't leave now!" Andre coughed as he urged.

Winters carried the body of the old Shaman, the old man was so thin, so light, it was almost weightless. The remaining Venetians and Herders used cloth to cover their noses and rushed out along the same path they came in.

Without a moment's delay, they ran all the way to the coast.

Behind them, the fortifications in the middle of Red Sulfur Bay were ablaze.

"They really can not refuse to give us a one-pound medal now!" Andre laughed heartily and then asked with some confusion, "Who are you holding... "

Before he could finish his sentence, several shots rang out from the water, the stones next to Winters were splashed by the lead bullets.

"XX! These XX are treating us as the enemy!" Andre cursed loudly, angrily yelling at the Venetian warships on the water: "Friendly forces! Friendly forces! Assholes!"

Along with his shouts, more gunfire was heard.

"We need to find a way to tell them we're friendly, or get out of here." Bard frowned, "You're shouting at them, they think it's a provocation."

"A token, yes, I have one!" Andre's eyes lit up, suddenly laughing maniacally, and as he laughed, he began to cry: "I've been keeping it safe since the day I landed!"

With that, Andre took out a cloth bag from the innermost layer of his clothes, and when he unfolded the cloth, a blue flag with golden embroidered double-winged lions appeared before everyone.

It was the battle flag of the First Hundred Men Team of the Third Legion's Chief Brigade.

The battle flag, Andre had held high on the day of the landing.

Andre attached the flag to a long spear, just about to wave it toward the ships on the water, but stopped.

He walked over to Winters, handing the flag to him: "Montaigne commander, the honor of displaying this battle flag should belong to you."

Winters took the battle flag, clutching the spear shaft tightly, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

"Did I do the right thing? We've sacrificed so many people, did I do the right thing?" he asked Bard.

"That's not important. What's important is, we followed you voluntarily, even if it was heading into hell."

Winters raised the battle flag, and as the sea breeze blew, the flag unfurled naturally. Illuminated by the fierce fire, the golden embroidery shone brightly.

More gunfire rang out.

"Who XX fired the shots? Are you blind? That's our own!" A magically amplified voice thundered across the sea, a voice very familiar to Winters, the voice of Colonel Field: "It's Warrant Officer Montaigne who destroyed the sea-blocking chains and cannons for us! All of Second Battalion! On my command! Three cheers for Warrant Officer Montaigne!"

"Urrah!"

"Urrah!"

"Urrah!!!!!!!!!!!!"

As the earth-shaking cheers erupted, no one knew what exactly Winters was thinking.