Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 513 93: The End (Part 2)

The Paratu People had considered the possibility of the fortification being breached, so the walls facing the main camp were shorter and the ditches shallower.

But it was still a daunting construction, one that demanded lives to fill its depths.

Twenty steps forward, and another volley of arrows descended.

This time, Winters only heard a crisp snap; he wasn't afraid of arrows—he was waiting for the gunfire.

The entire Montaigne team was armored, some even wearing chain mail over their plate armor. Unless the arrows struck true by chance or by precise aim, they would not cause harm.

Less than ten meters from the ditch, Winters saw a flash of red light on the rampart wall in front of him.

"Shield up!" he bellowed instinctively, raising his shield.

A burst of gunfire, like popping beans, came from the ramparts.

"Clang!"

Winters only felt his left arm go numb from the impact as the lead bullet penetrated the outer iron and inner wood of his shield, only to shatter against the plate armor on his left chest.

Even though the breastplate was not punctured, Winters still felt a tightness in his chest.

What he feared most had still come to pass: Only the Red River Tribe of the White Lion would be equipped extensively with firearms, and only they had the powder reserves to sustain such armament.

The presence of gunmen on the ramparts meant they were set to face off against the Red River Tribe that night.

The Montaigne team, which had taken no casualties from the arrows, had instantly lost over a dozen men to the gunfire.

"Siege Ladders!" Winters's eyes were bloodshot, but at this moment, there was only the drive to advance: "Grenades!"

"Uukhai!" The warriors carried ladders across the ditch.

The tops of the ladders were equipped with iron hooks, which once snagged, could not be easily dislodged.

The Montaigne warriors began to scale the walls shielded by their ramparts.

"Uukhai!" Eighteen grenadiers swung their arms, tossing sizzling iron-shelled bombs into the wall.

A series of muffled explosions erupted within the fortress.

The grenadiers were selected for their strong physique from the entire cohort, and Winters's order to them was simple: throw all four grenades within a minute.

The two-pound iron-shelled bombs flew in arcs over the wall, but they did not achieve the lethal effect on the enemies atop the wall as Winters had hoped.

Meanwhile, the gunmen and archers on the wall returned fire.

Lead bullets and arrows flew across, and though Winters's Deflection Spell had shown some progress, it still couldn't cope with the abundance of stray arrows and bullets.

Instead of maintaining the Deflection Spell, he stopped and bellowed with his arms waving, "Scale the wall! Scale..."

"Watch out!" Xial's cry of alarm came from behind.

In the next second, Winters was flipped over by a blast wave.

Not far from where he had just stood, a grenadier was blown in half at the waist, sending mud, shredded flesh, and blood flying everywhere.

"Are you all right?" Xial frantically searched Winters for wounds: "Blood!"

"I'm fine! It's not my blood." Winters felt as though a steel rod laden with lead had viciously struck him in the chest, making it hard to breathe, and even his ears rang, drowning out Xial's voice.

What had happened?

Winters didn't need to ask; anyone could understand just by looking.

The grenadier had just lit the fuse when he was shot through the neck by a lead bullet. In the last moment before falling, he exerted his final strength to press the grenade beneath his own body.

That blood-stained face used to belong to a man from Wolf Town named Mihali. A Protestant, a tenant farmer, nineteen years old, particular about cleanliness, and unmarried.

Pain, anger, and helplessness were all the emotions Winters could feel.

He strode toward the wall.

"The Lieutenant Colonel forbids you from scaling the wall!" Xial tried desperately to hold back Winters, but he couldn't: "You can't go!"

Heinrich, carrying the flag, silently followed the Centurion.

The rampart wall was less than three meters high, and the barbarians atop knew this height wasn't lethal; lacking other defense equipment, they desperately used their firearms and strong bows to wound those besieging the walls.

Picking up a shield from the corpses, Winters climbed up without a word.

The two warriors bracing the ladder at first froze, then held the ladder even more firmly, not allowing it to shake an inch.

The ladder was slick with blood.

Archers and gunmen on another wall noticed the conspicuously armored Centurion and turned their muzzles towards Winters.

Winters strained to maintain his Deflection Spell, climbed with his back covered by the shield, and gritted his teeth as he ascended.

"How is he going up again!" Seeing this, Colonel Jeska was enraged: "Didn't I give strict orders not to let him scale the wall?!"

No one dared to respond.

The Colonel ordered the second batch of Chelini troops that had arrived at the scene: "Lieutenant Chelini! Go take the other wall!"

Although rudimentary, the Southern Highlands fortification was still a star-shaped fortress. Attacking any one side of the walls single-handedly would expose the sides and even the back to the other walls.

Colonel Jeska was sending Andre to put pressure on the other wall, to alleviate the strain on Montaigne's squad.

Mason's squad arrived late, and the musketeers set up their formation amidst Lieutenant Mason's curses, starting to suppress the barbarians on the wall.

As Winters was about to reach the top of the ladder, he looked up, only to see the dark muzzle of a gun aimed at his forehead.

A ferocious barbarian held the firearm, his expression fierce, ready to pull the trigger any moment.

Winters was in the midst of maintaining his Deflection Spell and had no time to switch to another spell.

In his urgency, he grabbed the barrel and forcefully pushed it upward.

The barbarian pressed the trigger, and the bullet whipped past his helmet. Even through his gloves, the impact stung his palm.

Winters, clutching the barrel, pulled with all his might. The barbarian grew fierce, clenching his teeth, refusing to let go.

The standoff lasted less than a second before Winters, with a roaring shout, yanked the barbarian hard from the wall.