Chapter 58: No Matter How Strong the Spell, It Still Fears the Bayonet (Combined Chapter)

Morin's tactics of using a full-map perspective to continuously weave through and harass the enemy failed to deal a devastating blow, but they successfully delayed the advance of the several hundred hostile troops.

The Britannians had no idea how many enemies surrounded them.

They were forced to halt, detaching a portion of their forces to protect and evacuate the wounded, while another group of soldiers began a carpet search of the rear in an attempt to hunt down this damned "rat unit."

This bought precious time for the main body of the 3rd Platoon, which was currently retreating.

However, as the Britannians mobilized more troops to reinforce this sector, Morin and his squad gradually found themselves caught in a tightening net.

At this point, Morin knew that the hit-and-run harassment had reached its limit.

......

On the other side, Platoon Sergeant Klaus took a headcount after safely leading the main force back to the third line of defense.

The 3rd Platoon, which had originally been at full strength with two extra infantry squads attached, now numbered a mere 36 men.

He was unsure how many men Morin had taken with him, but he estimated it could not be very many. Furthermore, the fact that his platoon leader had not yet returned made the sergeant deeply uneasy.

"No, I still have to go back and reinforce the platoon leader..."

Hesitating for a moment, he ordered the remaining soldiers to hold the position, while he personally led a single squad of men and crept stealthily in the direction where Morin and his guerrillas had been operating.

At that moment, Morin and his remaining soldiers were lying in ambush near the bodies and wounded of the enemy force they had just attacked.

He intended to use the corpses as bait, repeating the tactic of laying an ambush to strike any rescue forces that arrived.

Once this final ambush was completed, he would break through the gap torn open at this location.

Through the system map, he could see a sizable enemy search party approaching their position.

"Prepare for combat! Wait until they get close before opening fire!"

Morin lowered his voice, issuing orders to the soldiers around him while pulling back the bolt of his rifle slightly to check the chamber.

Everyone gripped their weapons tighter, their hearts pounding in anticipation.

However, just as the enemy was about to enter the ambush zone, Morin noticed something amiss about this particular hostile force.

Among the ordinary Britannian soldiers, there were clearly two figures clad in mage robes, accompanied by two exceptionally tall heavy infantrymen.

On the system map, the unit icons for those two mages clearly displayed the designation [Highland Mage Apprentice].

"They've already started integrating these elite units?"

The appearance of the mages introduced a variable into his ambush.

He did not know what capabilities these mage apprentices possessed, but his intuition and experience told him never to fight an uncertain ambush.

Just as Morin was about to signal a retreat, he saw the two mage apprentices, protected by the surrounding soldiers, come to a halt near the wounded and the corpses.

They each raised a hand toward the buildings on either side of the street and cast a brief spell.

The mage apprentice facing Morin's side suddenly wore an expression of sheer terror.

After casting [Life Perception], the seemingly empty, dilapidated building ahead of him revealed densely packed vital signatures—more than twenty clear life presences hidden within!

"Ambush! It's an ambush! There are a lot of them!"

He screamed in panic.

Morin, who had been secretly observing from the outside, instantly realized that his intentions had been exposed the moment he noticed the change in the mage apprentice's expression and his panicked shouts.

Without a second of hesitation, he sprang to his feet, raised his rifle, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

Using Morin's gunshot as a signal, the Saxon soldiers concealed within the building immediately unleashed all their firepower.

Out on the street, the caught-off-guard Britannian soldiers were knocked down in droves.

However, the two mage apprentices and the two heavy infantrymen survived, protected by mage armor and heavy plate.

"They're in that building! Charge in and kill them!"

The surviving mage apprentices shrieked in shock and fury, directing the remaining soldiers to assault the building where Morin and his men were holed up.

At that moment, the soldiers of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment demonstrated the organization and morale expected of elites.

Although they had just suffered heavy casualties, rallied by the commands of their officers and mages, they quickly reformed their lines and charged straight into the building, led by the two heavily armored soldiers.

Just then, another squad had quietly crept up behind the Britannian force, guided by the sound of gunfire.

Leading them was Platoon Sergeant Klaus.

"The Britannians are attacking that building; there must be friendly forces inside," whispered a squad leader by his side.

"Most of the other friendly units have already fallen back. Anyone still exchanging fire with the enemy in this position right now has got to be the platoon leader and his men."

Klaus looked at the flashing gunfire inside the building ahead and the enemy charging outside, immediately grasping the situation.

"Prepare to attack! Hit these Britannians hard from behind!"

......

Inside the building, seeing the enemy approach, Morin roared:

"Grenades!"

Several grenadiers pulled the pins and hurled three of their remaining grenades out of the second-story windows.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three consecutive explosions detonated among the charging Britannian ranks.

The scorching blast waves and flying shrapnel dropped yet another group of men.

The two heavily armored soldiers leading the charge were sent stumbling by the shockwaves, feeling entirely dazed.

Yet, relying on astonishing willpower and enchanted, sturdy armor, they forced their way to the entrance of the building.

"Bang!"

One of the heavy infantrymen kicked open the wobbling door and swarmed inside alongside the infantry behind them.

The moment they breached the interior, however, immediate regret set in.

They regretted listening to the orders of the two mage apprentices.

Because instead of carrying swords and shields, they were armed with two-handed greatswords...

The cramped indoor space rendered their massive greatswords—intended for mowing down ordinary infantry—completely useless.

Displaying quick reflexes, the two heavy infantrymen rapidly reversed their weapons, grasping the unsharpened blades and hilts with both hands to use the crossguards and pommels for close-quarters striking.

Meanwhile, a few of the best Saxon marksmen, hiding behind room corners and furniture, continuously fired at the helmets of the heavy infantrymen, sending sparks flying and keeping their heads ringing.

The rest of the men fired frantically at the ordinary soldiers trailing behind.

At this stage of the battle, tactics ceased to exist.

All that remained was instinctual slaughter on both sides.

Both sides were driven to a murderous frenzy.

Battle cries, gunfire, and frantic screams echoed through the confined space.

"Two more grenades!"

Crouching back down into the stairwell to reload, Corporal Bowman roared, followed immediately by two more tossed grenades.

The violent explosions nearly concussed the Saxon soldiers stationed on the first floor as well.

When the blasts subsided, not a single standing Britannian soldier remained in the room.

Though the two heavily armored infantrymen were still alive, they staggered unsteadily, their armor covered in bullet dents and deep depressions.

"Kill them!"

Roaring, several Saxon soldiers rushed out from behind cover.

Their rifles were empty, and having no time to draw fresh clips from their ammo pouches, they had slapped bayonets onto the ends of their barrels.

During a previous debriefing session, survivors of hand-to-hand combat had shared how Morin used a bayonet to take down heavy infantry.

Thus, these Saxon soldiers frantically thrust their bayonets toward the vulnerable spots unprotected by the heavy armor, such as the armpits and necks.

After managing to bludgeon several charging Saxon soldiers to the ground with the pommels of their greatswords, the two valiant heavy infantrymen finally exhausted their remaining strength and crashed heavily to the floor.

"We got them!"

Before the surviving Saxon soldiers could even celebrate, two head-sized fireballs came howling in through the windows.

"Look out!"

Morin barely had time to shout a warning.

The next second, the fireballs detonated violently in the center of the room.

The fierce blast engulfed the entire first floor.

The terrifying heat and shockwave instantly consumed everything, even collapsing a corner of the second floor.

On the system map, Morin watched as the icons for his two infantry squads stationed on the first floor instantly turned gray.

The twelve soldiers fighting on the first floor were gone.

Had Corporal Bowman not retreated into the stairwell just moments before, he likely would have perished alongside them.

Right then, including Morin himself, only eighteen men remained under his command.

Outside the window, the two mage apprentices prepared to cast another spell to completely eliminate the enemies inside the building.

Suddenly, dense gunfire erupted behind them.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Klaus and his squad had flanked them from behind, launching a surprise attack on the Britannian force.

The Britannian soldiers covering the mages dropped to the ground one by one.

This sudden turn of events left the two mage apprentices panic-stricken.

Looking back in dismay, they saw another squad of Saxon soldiers erupting from the ruins and immediately assumed they had been counter-encircled.

Panicking, the two mage apprentices tried to cast [Mage Armor] upon themselves, only to discover they had already exhausted their allotted daily preparations of that vital spell.

Having failed to plan their spellcasting rationally for urban combat, they realized too late that most of the spells they had prepared for the day were used up in earlier engagements.

They deeply regretted wasting their remaining spells earlier in another skirmish, venting their frustration on enemies who had already surrendered inside a building.

Otherwise, their spell slots wouldn't have been reduced to mere parlor tricks like [Mage Hand]...

Terror immediately gripped their hearts, echoing their mentor's instructions before the battle:

"Retreat! Fall back immediately!"

Decisively turning tail, they prepared to flee under the cover of the few remaining soldiers.

Morin, inside the building, was unaware that the two mage apprentices had depleted their daily spellcasting limits. However, having been driven into a frenzy by continuous urban warfare, he knew this might be their only chance.

Once these mobile artillery-like mages escaped, there was no telling how much trouble they might cause for friendly forces later.

"Don't let them get away!"

His eyes bloodshot, Morin lunged down the slope formed by the collapsed second floor.

Bursting out of the building with his men, he shouted in Saxon toward Klaus's position: "Watch the friendly fire! Watch the friendly fire!"

Hearing Morin's voice, Klaus immediately understood his platoon leader's intent.

"Watch your shots! Follow up and cover the platoon leader's group!"

The two squads, one right after the other, pursued the fleeing enemy.

A grenadier running beside Morin mustered his strength and hurled the final grenade.

The grenade traced a perfect arc through the air, landing right behind the fleeing enemy group before detonating.

"Boom!"

The massive explosion blew them head over heels.

Before they could crawl back to their feet, Morin and the Saxon soldiers charged forward like avenging deities, rifles fitted with fixed bayonets.

"Charge!"

The Saxon soldiers applied the close-combat techniques Morin had taught them.

At the very last second before reaching the enemy, instead of rushing straight into a bayonet thrust, they fired their weapons one last time, emptying the rounds remaining in their chambers.

It was utterly unsportsmanlike, yet remarkably effective.

"Bang! Bang!"

At point-blank range, no aiming was required.

The two Britannian soldiers assigned to provide cover were knocked flat onto the ground on the spot.

Next came the bloodiest work of cold steel.

The remaining two Britannian soldiers tried to intercept Morin, who was charging at the forefront. But Morin, now locked in a state of battle rage, parried swiftly and drove his bayonet straight through the first soldier's throat.

Seeing his comrade instantly fall while clutching his throat, as arterial spray spattered across Morin and decorated him like a god of death, the last soldier's morale completely shattered.

Screaming hysterically, he charged forward with his rifle, attempting a mutual-destruction thrust with Morin, only to see the blood-spattered Saxon officer abruptly halt his advance.

Then he raised his rifle and aimed.

"Bang!"

The soldier collapsed, shot dead between the eyes, never understanding why a man who looked like a berserker would suddenly shoot with such cold composure.

With a blank expression, Morin ejected the spent casing and chambered a round. He stared at the two mage apprentices as if they were already dead men, while the rest of the Saxon soldiers surged past him.

This sight was witnessed by the two mage apprentices as they looked back, Morin's cold glare intensifying the terror in their hearts.

These high-born mage apprentices of the Highland Mage Corps had never imagined a day when they would be cornered at close range by enemy infantry.

In their worldview, mages were supposed to stand safely behind the protection of an army, chanting incantations with composure and wiping out rows of enemies with a wave of their hands—graceful and formidable existences.

Not rolling around in mud and gore in such a pathetic state.

Facing the flashing cold steel of the bayonets, they completely lost their wits.

With their mage armor ineffective, in their panic they could only instinctively summon a rudimentary Mage Hand, shoving away the two Saxon soldiers who had rushed in the fastest.

The next instant, however, the bayonets wielded by Morin and Corporal Bowman plunged deep into their bodies from both flanks.

The cold S1898 bayonets easily pierced their ornate robes and vulnerable flesh.

"Ugh..."

One mage apprentice looked down in disbelief at the bayonet buried in his abdomen, a torrent of blood welling up in his throat.

Expressionless, Morin twisted the barrel of his rifle, turning the bayonet inside the mage apprentice's body to inflict maximum damage on his internal organs.

Corporal Bowman followed suit. Within moments, the two arrogant mage apprentices breathed their last and slumped limply to the ground.

The remaining Britannian soldiers were swiftly dispatched with coup de grâce shots by the Saxon infantry.

Pulling out his bayonet, Morin panted heavily. Looking at the carnage littering the ground, he knew he could not linger here.

Fighting through physical exhaustion, he knelt, propping himself up with his rifle in one hand, and quickly searched the bodies of the two mage apprentices.

Before long, he retrieved two heavy volumes resembling spell journals, along with several vials and jars containing unknown liquids and powders.

[Spell entry unlocked, please check in time]

[Personal Training Manual (Basic) x2, acquired]

Though he heard the notification chime, Morin had no time to examine them closely, stuffing the items wholesale into his haversack.

"Clear the battlefield! See if there are any usable weapons. We need to get out of here immediately and rendezvous with the main body of the 3rd Platoon!"

Standing up, Morin issued his final command to the surviving soldiers.

Before long, the squad—having walked through the gates of hell—vanished swiftly into the ruined streets of Sevilla.

[Saxon Imperial Airship - Zeppelin-class Armored Airship - L30]

[Status: Approaching destination]

[Estimated arrival time: 1 hour and 5 minutes]