Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 514 93: The End (Part 3)

Barbarian gunmen fell heavily beneath the city wall, and in an instant, they were stabbed to death by the chaotic swords of the Paratu People.

But even until the last moment of his life, he clutched his musket tightly and never let go.

"Herde Language White Lion!" The barbarian squeezed out a tuneless voice from his throat, and then he died.

"Hurrah!" shouted the Paratu People beneath the wall.

The "heroic deed" of Centurion Montaigne was witnessed by everyone below the wall.

"Hurrah!" The musketeers also started to shout desperately.

Winters was oblivious, he didn't even know that the crowd was cheering for him.

He leaped onto the city wall and drew his sword.

There was no joy of success in his heart, only endless anger: the fort was teeming with barbarians in its not-so-large interior.

The White Lion knew they were coming, the White Lion was also waiting for them to arrive.

His warriors kept climbing onto the fortress wall, one after another, and there was no way for Winters to order them to retreat.

Their mission was not yet complete, nor could they possibly retreat.

"Come on!" roared Winters as he charged at the enemy on the fortress wall, "Come and kill me!"

There was no reasoning left, only one side could survive.

A barbarian musketeer saw the Paratu Centurion charging towards him and hurriedly tried to shoot.

He pulled the trigger only to realize there was no match cord attached, and then he fumbled for the hilt of his saber. Before he could draw his curved sword, Winters's gauntlet sword had already pierced his chest.

The blade went through the ribs and into the lung lobes, leaving a terrible wound. Air pushed into his trachea, and the barbarian musketeer coughed up blood-frothing bubbles before slowly collapsing to the ground.

And the man who killed him had already drawn his sword to kill the next one.

As more Paratu People climbed up the city, the barbarians' archers and gunmen suffered heavy casualties, greatly reducing the pressure on the others outside the wall.

The barbarian bowmen and gunmen wore no armor; none was a match for Winters.

For non-fatal attacks, Winters didn't even dodge, relying entirely on his sturdy armor to resist.

A barbarian's slash on his shoulder armor, arm armor, or breastplate would only cause him severe pain.

In return, his sword strikes would claim the barbarians' lives.

After felling a dozen or so enemies, a vacuum had formed around Winters on the fortress wall, with archers and gunmen desperately scrambling away from him.

The barbarian chieftain shouted hoarsely, "Herde Language This two-legged man is formidable! Shoot him with the musket! Shoot him with the musket!"

The voice came from below the wall; Winters on the rampart couldn't see where the barbarian chieftain was.

He fired three steel nails in the general direction, and that annoying voice did not reappear.

The Paratu People had already secured an area on the fortress wall, and Andre had climbed up as well.

Seeing the large number of barbarian soldiers inside the fortress, Andre couldn't help but swear loudly.

The barbarian bowmen and gunmen had retreated to other areas of the fortress wall, while the armored barbarian soldiers with swords kept pouring up the stairs.

Winters looked around; there were only cannon mounts on the fortress wall, no cannons.

However, the scouts only saw the White Lion bring the cannons into the fortress, not taking them away.

"Death Camp is silent! We're the only ones left!" Andre grabbed Winters, "Where's the cannon?"

"It's been taken away!"

Andre was anxious, "What do we do now?"

"It's in this fortress!" Winters's face was hidden under his helmet, leaving Andre unable to see his expression, "Fight inside!"

In the midst of their conversation, barbarian soldiers rushed onto the fortress wall again, shouting, "Wu Kaha!"

The strong barbarian soldier at the forefront raised his war hammer high, and brought it crashing down onto Tomas who was in front of Winters.

Poor Tomas lifted his shield to block, but it only held against the first blow. He tried to counter-thrust with his side sword, but it was stopped by a breastplate.

The strong barbarian soldier endured a direct stab, and with a round swing of his arms, he smashed Tomas's skull, causing his brain matter to splatter.

Watching this unfold before his eyes, Winters shook off Andre and with his sword raised, threw himself at the hammer-wielding barbarian, striking with all his might at the enemy's neck.

His sword was already notched, and the barbarian wore a neck guard. Sparks flew, but no blood was drawn.

The barbarian soldier intended to repeat his attack, but the force of Winters's strike was so great that it made him stagger.

Before the barbarian could regain his footing, Winters, grasping the barbarian's helmet, executed an unrestrained cleaving blow.

The hammer-wielding barbarian's head was instantly shredded inside the helmet, with red and white matter oozing out from the gaps in the armor.

The other surrounding barbarians were so terrified that their legs went weak; not only did they not dare to advance, but they also retreated a few steps.

Winters reached out to take the barbarian's war hammer, as his gauntlet sword was no longer serviceable.

"Please use this." Someone from behind offered him a maul.

Xial had also climbed onto the fortress wall without Winters realizing when.

Heinrich, carrying the army banner, had arrived, along with Ish, Samujin... all who were still alive had come.

Winters accepted the maul and suddenly burst into laughter.

He tore off the barbarian's helmet drenched in red and white matter and threw it towards the barbarians inside the fortress.

"White Lion!" Winters Montagne's roar was thunderous, "So what if you knew I was coming?! I'll still break through you!"

"Kill!" Winters charged at the barbarians inside the stairway.

"Hurrah!" roared the soldiers of Montaigne's team in unison.

The attackers, despite being outnumbered, not only held their ground on the city wall but also pushed the defenders down from the wall—locally.

Inside the fortress, the stairwells and corridors were narrow, and no matter how numerous, the people could not unfold.

The ones in front, making contact with the enemy, had almost no room to maneuver. When a bludgeon swung down, all they could do was to hold up a shield or even their arms to take the blow.

There were only two lines of attack, one was smashing down from above, the other was thrusting forward, leaving no room for swinging from side to side.