Chapter 490 The True Colors Are Revealed
The winter winds whitened the rooftops of Thunder City, and the winds over the rushing river were even more biting cold; no one could be seen on the riverbank.
In this weather, whether serfs or ordinary people, they would choose to stay at home with their families.
However, beneath those low, dark clouds, two small figures were weakly flapping their wings, flying against the clamoring wind.
It was unusually small; even if someone looked up and saw it, they would mistake it for a crow, not some evil creature in the maze.
Achoo!
"Waaaaah... It's so cold..."
Little devil Missy was shivering from the cold, her little arms wrapped around her chest, her expression extremely dejected.
Yuxi, who was flying next to her, was the same. The little guy was shivering and sniffling his snot, which was almost frozen solid.
Incidentally, ever since their soul levels were elevated to gold by the Demon King, the two of them have finally mastered silver-level extraordinary power through arduous training.
Even with extraordinary power, he couldn't withstand the relentless onslaught of the biting cold wind.
"...Ken, it must be that the Demon King discovered what happened that time."
"It's all your fault, Missy!"
"Wait, why are you blaming me again?"
"If it weren't for your tears, which were so pathetic and dripped onto that Minotaur's bald head, how would the Demon King have discovered us!"
"That's too much! Your snot dripped onto it too."
"Nonsense! How much snot did I have? Just, just a little bit!"
Even the most desperate situations can't stop the little devils from arguing, especially this pair of lively characters who have been fighting since they were little.
Yuxi flapped its nearly frozen wings and, before Misi could figure out how to retort, let out a desperate cry, "Now look what's happened, we've both been sent to this godforsaken place to carry out a mission... and now you and I are being punished together."
This is definitely the Demon King making things difficult for them!
Although the little devil doesn't wear shoes.
While there is debate about who should take the blame, both little devils agree that the reason they were sent out to perform this most boring task in the coldest weather was because it was the Demon King's punishment for their eavesdropping that was exposed.
“But, but…” Missy pouted, feeling wronged, “I just couldn’t help it when I heard ‘Mia,’ Lady Sisi is so pitiful…”
The same goes for Yusi.
If it weren't for the howling, cold wind that might freeze her tears, she probably would be sobbing and wailing again right now.
He's actually two-timing!
The Demon King is so wicked!
Just as they were wallowing in self-pity, complaining about the unfairness of their fate and their inability to experience the Demon King's power through Her Majesty Sissi's empathy, Missy, who was a little more astute, suddenly stopped sobbing and stared wide-eyed at the river below.
"Yuxi, look down there!"
"What are you looking at? It's just a broken river..."
Yusi looked down impatiently, but his complaining stopped abruptly.
Below them, on the once wide and open riverbed, a large patch of dense black dots had appeared.
Those aren't ducks floating on the water—
It was not a fleet of ships, but a vast and mighty fleet!
Countless simple flat-bottomed barges, like a swarm of locusts crossing a river, crowded the waterway and were heading south in a mighty current.
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, the two little devils slid downwards for a while, simultaneously casting a spell to conceal themselves.
In the dim light of dawn, they caught a glimpse of fully armed soldiers on the ship, the gun barrels peeking out from under the shed gleaming with a chilling light.
He was Campbell's conscript!
A chilling, murderous aura swept over us!
The little devils of Nightmare Land would be no strangers to these guys, after all, their former king was shot to death by them and impaled on a spear.
The two little devils stopped talking, stared at each other blankly in mid-air, and their despair was gradually replaced by intense excitement.
"Misi..."
"Yusi!"
"Wow! The big one is finally here!"
They let out an excited scream, flapped their wings, and soared into the higher clouds, leaving only their two bright eyes visible.
"Quickly! Go and tell His Majesty the Demon King!"
Why wasn't it you?!
"I'll stay here and keep an eye on them."
"hateful……"
Yuxi thought Misi's words made sense, and with a look of reluctance, he circled towards the Silverpine Forest to report to the Demon King.
Missy remained hidden in the clouds, like a child eagerly awaiting the start of a circus performance, excitedly watching the crowded river below.
The demons don't care who fights whom.
As long as they fight, they can please their demon god!
...
The cold winter wind did not freeze the flowing river, but it froze the boots of the new recruits who were training in the southwestern swamp.
Although the atmosphere at the training camp was oppressive, there was also a bittersweet feeling to it.
Raman and his comrades huddled around a pile of damp firewood belching black smoke, futilely warming their numb, frozen hands, complaining about the damned swamp, their boots that would never dry, and talking about their hometown.
Having spent so much time together, they have become friends, and some of them have already made plans for what to do after they finish their military service.
When Raman mentioned that he was going to contract a forest farm in the Dusk Province, the young men living in the same tent all advised him not to dream about it.
Raman said stubbornly.
"The newspaper said there are many trees there."
"Tch, the newspapers even say there are gold mines on the continent of Gana," a young man who seemed to have some education said with a sneer. "And do you think there aren't any trees outside Thunder City? Or do you not have any trees in your own backyard?"
this……
Raman really didn't know how to answer.
really.
Trees are everywhere.
The educated soldier pushed up his glasses and spoke to him.
“Listen, if you were a stranger, I would advise you to follow the Grand Duke and go wherever he tells you to go. But you are my friend, and I must tell you, never listen to what those important people say; you should watch where they are going.”
Raman countered.
"Eileen is in the Twilight Province."
The soldier squatting beside him said with a smile.
"But Edward is in Thunder City, isn't he?"
this……
Raman can't do it again.
The educated soldier continued to persuade him.
“You didn’t earn your demobilization pay easily, so don’t waste it in Twilight Province. Find a job honestly, and then see what your boss is doing and learn from him. If he quietly buys a house, you should buy one too. But if he’s urging you to buy one, don’t buy it, just like with the Colin Group stock.”
"You see those Ryan people as pitiful, but have you ever wondered why they're poor? Is it just because their king is bad? Some lands can only grow potatoes, while others can grow wheat. Even though I've never farmed, I know that—"
"Thump—!"
A rude bell suddenly rang out, and all the soldiers instinctively stopped talking and hurriedly got up from the ground.
They heard hurried footsteps approaching and saw their centurion walking towards them with a stern face.
He was no longer the proud rooster he had been in front of the prince a few days ago; now, only frost-like coldness remained on his face.
"Assemble! Bring your weapons, immediate deployment!"
After saying that, he went to the next tent.
Raman's heart skipped a beat.
This tone is not a drill!
He rushed into the tent, grabbed his beloved Roxay rifle, and then followed the crowd out of the tent with the other young men.
Urged on by the tolling of the bell, the entire camp erupted in excitement.
Soldiers ran through the mud, and the officers roared as if enemy artillery fire was right above their heads.
Dozens of teams of a hundred men quickly assembled, and after counting off, they immediately left the camp and sped towards the main channel of the Benliu River.
Raman was half nervous and half excited. Looking at the other camps not far away, he licked his chapped lips.
Are we finally going to the front lines?
But where exactly is the front line?
A moment of confusion flashed in his eyes as he suddenly remembered the legend of Thunder County and the lurking demon.
The Demon King is their old rival.
Although the late King Aaron Campbell killed him, everyone knew that when one demon lord died, another would come.
As long as the labyrinth remains, demon kings will continue to arrive.
With such a large-scale reshuffle happening this season, the only opponent can be that guy.
Having realized who his opponent was, Raman perked up, and his burning fighting spirit dispelled the confusion in his eyes.
Perfect!
He wanted to show off his skills to the monsters in the maze and let those savage creatures taste the firepower they had never seen before!
They would probably be like the lizardmen of the southwestern swamp, collapsing to the ground as if they had lost their souls when they heard the gunshot.
The march was intense and lengthy.
Fortunately, the construction team leveled the roads in the swamp, allowing the transport wagons to enter; otherwise, they would probably have had to endure several more days of travel on the road.
However, when everyone arrived at the rushing river, panting, and broke through the last layer of reeds that blocked their view, the scene that came into view stunned them all.
The young man wearing glasses stared wide-eyed, his frozen lips trembling as he managed to squeeze out a sentence.
"This is……"
The wide river was densely packed with flat-bottomed boats, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, filling the vast, ever-flowing river.
Some boats continued downstream, while others rushed to the shore and landed on the shallows just a few hundred paces away.
Raman's eyes widened as well.
There are no demons.
There was no fire strong enough to dry his boots.
There were only humans like him, even his compatriots, whose boots, soaked in water, were exactly like his.
The only difference was that they were wearing thin autumn clothes and carrying all sorts of flintlock pistols; everything was the same as before.
The brave Campbell's Musketeers were leaping from barges into knee-deep water to haul their barges and supplies ashore.
Through the dim light of the sky, Raman could even see the relief and bewilderment on their faces; they must have been drifting on this river for a long time.
Some of them had clearly just vomited; their chests were still stained with filth, their faces were pale, and their lips were trembling.
But they did not hesitate.
Under orders from the officer on the riverbank, this seemingly disorganized group was rapidly assembling into a line formation—
Without a doubt, that was an act of war!
But why?
Raman was filled with confusion. Newspapers were delivered to the camp every day, containing all sorts of information, but this particular matter was not mentioned.
Just then, the officer's roar rang out, temporarily dispelling the confusion in his heart.
"The rebels are attacking us! Soldiers of the 100th Company of the 7000th Company! Campbell's artillery battalion is on its way, and soon they will have their cannons set up on this hillside beneath your feet! Now, follow me! Hold them off until reinforcements arrive!"
The marching drums sounded.
Raman's feet moved instinctively, moving forward with the ranks beside him, even the rhythm of his breathing synchronized with the marching drums.
However, the confusion in his mind remained unresolved.
Rebels?
etc--
Who betrayed whom? And who fought with whom?
At least in his memory, the court of the Duchy of Campbell was peaceful, with barons respecting their earls, and earls swearing to serve the Grand Duke.
Fortunately, his superior's roar answered his confusion.
"The Earl of Glastonbury's lackeys, in league with King Ryan, have sent their knights, disguised as mercenaries, to our land, attempting to overthrow our Grand Duke, seize our territory, and plunder our wealth!"
"Now! They still want to shamelessly usurp the fruits of our Grand Duke's reforms! Let us go back to the past and become their slaves!"
“They’re dreaming! If they want my daughter to serve their master in their castle, they’ll have to step over my dead body!”
"Saint-Sis will stand with his truly loyal subjects, for His Majesty the Grand Duke, for Campbell! For honor!"
The centurion, shouting at the top of his lungs, drew his saber, his wide eyes burning with rage, as if he wanted to grind his teeth to dust.
"Everyone—"
"preparation--!"
Nearly three months of training have allowed Raman to develop muscle memory.
The moment the word "ready" left his mouth, his body reacted, the butt of the rifle slamming against his shoulder with a thud.
Three hundred paces was too far for an old-fashioned flintlock musket. The experienced young men on the riverbank didn't even glance at them, still adjusting the nascent ranks and tending to the barges loaded with supplies.
The centurions leading the squads were the same; they paid no attention to the rifles pointed at them, because firing at this distance would only be a waste of the soldiers' energy and ammunition.
They had no doubt until the raised saber came down.
"Fire!"
A barrage of gunfire erupted!
The crackling and popping sounds, like sudden thunderclaps, shattered the tranquility of the rushing riverbank.
The young men on the riverbank were caught off guard. The bullets flying by were too accurate, and many heads were blown open, with bright red blood floating in the river.
At first, their superiors didn't pay any attention.
After all, the gunshots were far away, and the reeds obscured their vision, so no one knew who had been shot; they only knew that they were fine.
Even the officers on the riverbank were still mocking the weakness on the other side, and even at this point, they were still firing warning shots with their precious ammunition.
A soldier carries a limited amount of gunpowder, usually enough for thirty rounds. If the outcome is still undecided, they will engage in bayonet fighting.
Whoever runs out of gunpowder first will be embarrassed first.
However, another terrifying aspect of the Roxay 1053 rifle was that its use of smokeless powder and paper cartridges not only simplified the loading process for soldiers but also changed the ammunition load of the Campbell Army. Even without carrying ammunition pouches, a private could carry sixty paper cartridges in his pocket.
If the commander is clever and has prepared an attack or defense plan in advance, they can also pre-bury ammunition in the foxholes they have dug.
Bullets wrapped in oiled paper are almost never damaged unless they fall into water or stay in a warehouse for several years.
After the first round of gunfire subsided, the rebels on the shore remained motionless. Death permeated the eerie atmosphere, and the air seemed frozen.
The first shot was indeed a warning.
If they had thrown down their weapons and fled, there would have been less bloodshed, but unfortunately no one fled, and the coup was still ongoing.
The winter wind was biting cold, yet the rushing riverbank remained unfrozen.
Perhaps it was the warm breath from people's mouths that melted them, or perhaps the thin ice froze in the wrong place, freezing in people's hearts.
Raman felt a tremor on his shoulder. He heard someone praying softly, praying for Saint Sis to appear and make the people on the other side stop, or to flee in disarray.
Losing to your own people isn't shameful. They don't have any deep-seated hatred for each other. Maybe if they meet again in a tavern tomorrow, they can still drink together with their arms around each other's shoulders.
However, the people on the other side did not run away, and those standing there did not retreat a single step, nor did they even raise the muzzle of their guns.
Perhaps the young men from Thunder City standing beside him knew in their hearts what it would mean if they lost.
Everything will go back to the way it was.
Raman's mind subconsciously flashed through the first half of his life.
He went from being a poorly skilled carpenter to having his job taken away by a factory, and eventually ended up working in a factory himself, drifting between the factory and the dock.
He only recently found his place in the army, and it's clear he won't stay there long, since generals are always the same while soldiers come and go.
He didn't have any grand ideals, not even the smallest ones.
He lacked His Majesty the Grand Duke's foresight, had none of Monsieur Andes' wealth, and was even inferior to his superior, that crowing rooster fellow at least had a daughter.
But he also has something of his own.
Just yesterday, his bespectacled comrade shared a piece of frosted pastry with him. It was a gift from his family, and everyone was urging him to share, so he reluctantly gave it to them.
Raman had never tasted such delicious pastries.
He used to laugh at Princess Eileen for saying she would let them eat cake, but by the time he realized it, the cake was already in his mouth.
He thought it tasted really good.
In that remote and isolated village, waiting to be fed by the lord's servants like livestock, he would probably never experience that feeling in his entire life.
No one would stand by the campfire and mysteriously tell him the untold stories of Prince Colin and Princess Irene.
Life may not be perfect these days.
But he didn't want to lose it.
Perhaps every silent soldier around him shared the same thoughts as him—
Want to take all of this away?
Then let's trade heads!
On the riverbank, all the crooked little boats finally came to a stop, and the rebels disembarked with their supplies.
The officers, loyal to the king and the count, finally noticed the corpses and blood floating on the river.
Everyone was astonished, but it was someone else's blood after all, and it wasn't enough to quell their greed.
Thousands of conscripts assembled under their commander's orders, forming a formation all too familiar to every Campbell.
That was also a formation that Missy was familiar with.
Flying in the sky, she seemed to have been awakened by memories of fear, shivering and shrinking into the low clouds, afraid to come out, letting the cold wind beat against her.
Let alone a mere Silver-level player—
Between the two opposing armies, even a diamond-level expert would have to consider whether it was worthwhile to clash head-on with the powerful will that was formed by the collective will of the people.
The military band's drumbeats began, dull and oppressive, urging the assembled rebels to advance.
They were ready to retaliate, unaware that their opponents had deliberately allowed them to gather together...
Times have changed.
The centurion beside Raman did not hesitate at all.
The logistics soldiers had already placed ammunition boxes at the feet of the young men, and the friendly forces not far away had also completed their assembly.
He swung his saber forward once more, giving his lads their first and last order.
"Suppressive firepower—"
"Fire!"
December of 1053 in the Os calendar was destined to be a winter month that the people of Campbell would remember.
Standing at the crossroads of fate, the 100th of Campbell's 7,000th Regiment, loyal to the Grand Duke, unleashed a barrage of firepower never before seen in the Old World, targeting one of Baron Lukeville's conscripted units.
On the riverbank, those equally skilled young men were shattered into pieces by wave after wave of bullets before they even had a chance to raise their flintlock pistols.
This can no longer be called a war.
It was a complete massacre.
"Bang!"
Raman mechanically pulled the trigger, the butt of the rifle hitting his shoulder painfully. Without pausing, his fingers, stiff from the cold, skillfully pulled the lever open and stuffed a equally frozen cardboard box into the chamber.
"bite--"
"Whoosh—!"
A stray bullet grazed Raman's cheek, leaving a hot, bloody mark.
That was probably an accidental shot fired by a soldier before he died, since no commander would order to fire at that distance.
He was completely unaware that his entire focus was on the metal lever in his hand and on praying to Saint Sis with unprecedented devotion.
The rebel commander on the other side was completely dumbfounded.
No one had ever seen such firepower before, and they were still habitually using old tactics, opening fire only after getting close enough to engage...
However, in the blink of an eye, several battalions of them were wiped out, leaving only a pile of mangled corpses.
Finally unable to contain his fear, the rebel commander roared and ordered his decimated thousand-man squad to charge.
At least--
This will buy time for the brothers behind to open fire!
"charge--!"
"Charge in while they're firing!"
Upon hearing the bugle call to charge, the military musicians drew their swords, discarded their drums, and joined the soldiers in the charge.
Shouts echoed along the riverbank, like the surging tide. They roared and charged, trying to take advantage of the lulls in the duchy's army's firing to break through.
However, they soon miscalculated.
The clanging rifles seemed to need no reloading at all; the continuous barrage of bullets formed a deathly rain.
They fired at a terrifying rate of one shot every two seconds, and the charging soldiers died one after another.
As Sirf charged alongside his comrades in the last battalion of Lord Lukeville, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest, as if he had been kicked by a donkey.
The pain came belatedly; before he could even see what it was, he silently collapsed into the mud, which had been melted by hot blood.
Fortunately, death did not torment him for long.
On his deathbed, looking at the cold faces around him, he felt a strange sense of comfort, though not a true sense of solace.
At least... quite a few people have died here.
No one should discover that he betrayed the Grand Duke, and no one should make things difficult for his children, his wife, or his father because of it.
If there is an afterlife, he would still choose to be reborn here.
The gunfire gradually subsided.
Before the artillery battalion could even reach the mound, the rebels who had landed on the riverbank were already routed by the dense barrage of fire.
The surviving soldiers and officers eventually chose to surrender, including the Knights of Ryan disguised as mercenaries and the knights.
Terrified, they were like drowned dogs, bound together by the angry Campbells and thrown onto a cart and dragged away.
The banks of the rushing river were stained a shocking dark red, and the murky water was littered with mutilated corpses.
Raman put down the scalding hot rifle; the smell of gunpowder made it hard for him to open his eyes. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he was lost in the same spot.
He does not possess supernatural powers.
But the number of people he killed today would probably surprise even a Silver-level expert...
The rebellion continues.
The river is very long, and it will take a long time to flush the blood into the sea.
Raman suddenly became afraid. If the demons in the maze were to come out in full force at this moment, the consequences would be unimaginable.
However, his fears did not come true. This winter month was unusually quiet, especially in Thunder County, which rode atop the Demon King's head.
While the rebel army of the northern vassals was engaged in a bloody battle with the Duke of Campbell, the Thundershire Labyrinth, on which the nobles had placed their hopes, remained unusually quiet.
Not a single demon took advantage of the chaos.
The only little devil that happened to "pass by" trembled and shrank back, hiding back in the maze when no one was paying attention.
Except for one exception—
Those were not demons from the labyrinth, but demons from the far reaches of the heart of hell.
In the woods, an elegant young woman was covering her mouth and chuckling softly, wearing a gorgeous yet thin black dress under a purple parasol.
She doesn't seem to be afraid of the cold.
I hate the occasional ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds more than the biting cold wind.
At this moment, a sickly smile was on her delicate face. The bloody smell in the air did not frighten her; instead, it made her scarlet eyes reveal a rapturous smile.
"Kukuku... Is this my elder brother's territory?"
No wonder he's a demon infamous throughout hell—
"The smell of blood is really pleasant."
(End of this chapter)
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