Translator: Cinder Translations
...
The dwarf Imar felt a storm brewing in his heart as he watched the two humans in front of him pull the triggers, unleashing a terrifying flame from the iron tubes, causing the nearest orc warrior to fall. After firing, they immediately passed their used weapons to their companions behind them and received another loaded weapon in return.
Imar had already observed this loading process.
The human receiving the weapon stood it upright on the ground, pulled out a small item wrapped in cloth or hide from a bag, bit it open, and poured some dark powder into the weapon's barrel. Then he used a long iron rod to pack it down, adjusted the burning fuse at the back, and finally handed the weapon to the front, starting another round of killing.
The whole set of actions was performed with great skill, flowing smoothly like water.
The exploration team heading south carried eight firelocks, organized into a firelock group commanded by Vice Captain Matthew.
Two of the best shooters in the group were responsible for operating the firelocks and shooting, while the others assisted in loading ammunition to ensure a sustained fire output.
These two shooters were not only skilled marksmen but also had steady mentalities, remaining calm and composed even when firing beyond the effective range of their weapons.
The firelocks held by the exploration team were smoothbore guns; although hitting a target at a distance of over a hundred meters relied on divine intervention, their hit rate on large targets like humans was quite good at fifty meters or less, especially since the shooters were lying on a slope, which stabilized their aim.
…
"Evil sorcery!"
Gunther, the mastermind behind the robbery, was filled with regret.
But his regret wasn't about robbing; it was about underestimating the deceitful cunning of humans.
He had begun to see the fire-spewing weapons as some kind of special wands.
Among that group of humans, there was actually a shaman or similar figure.
After the first few warriors fell, he quickly took cover behind a large rock.
The others followed suit, either hiding behind obstacles or lying on the ground, as instincts told the orcs that this would be useful.
Having not prepared mentally for the possibility of sacrifice before taking action, the bold charge of just moments ago halted abruptly.
Neither the orcs dared to advance, nor the humans to descend, leading to a brief moment of silence on the slope.
"You!" Gunther angrily pointed at the orc beside him, "Is the bow you carry just for show? You fool! Quickly take down that human shaman!"
"Yes, Lord Gunther!"
The orc archer immediately retrieved the bow from his back, nocked an arrow, and swiftly leaned out from behind the boulder to shoot at a target at random.
However, in the next moment, his head exploded right before Gunther's eyes.
With a thud, brain matter sprayed out over a meter behind him.
The orc archer collapsed.
…
"Ugh!"
One of the exploration team members clutched his chest; he had been hit by an arrow.
"Quick! Get the bandages and powder!"
Stanford rushed over to the injured teammate.
"First take down the one with the bow!" Matthew shouted, and everyone became alert.
Stanford pulled out a pair of scissors and cut open the injured man's clothing.
Oh no, he thought despairingly.
The orc's arrow had struck him in the chest.
The poor guy convulsed, using his last strength to say, "Captain, please… take me… take me home, even if it's… just my ashes."
His breath gradually faded.
"Damn it!"
Stanford growled as he pulled out the arrow.
The arrowhead was made of bone.
This thing had killed one of his brothers!
His assessment of the orcs' combat ability rose another level. Not only were they strong, but their reflexes were incredibly quick. That orc archer had barely peeked out and immediately locked onto a target, hitting it. If it had been him, he would not have had time to aim in such a short span.
Matthew was a good shot, but his ability to hit the target came from his constant vigilance towards the boulder hiding the enemy. If their positions were reversed, and he had to fire a shot while exposed under such deadly circumstances, he would likely miss.
He wondered how many skilled fighters were still in the opposing team.
…
Gunther looked pained as he watched the fallen orc archer; he had lost another capable confidant.
But he also noticed that as the archer's brain matter splattered out, a small object shot out from the back of his head.
Was it a dart or pellet empowered by sorcery?
Seeing his side suppressed by an unknown force, he realized they could no longer continue.
Since that wand did not harm people out of thin air, there must be a way to defend against it.
He removed the metal shield from his back, mustered his strength, and shouted, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
If someone observed his face, they would see Gunther's eyes bulging, mouth wide open, and his jaw nearly jutting out, making his terrifying fangs even more fearsome.
The roar was so thunderous that the orc's voices echoed through the mountains. Stanford felt a strange thudding in his heart, uncomfortable as if he had gulped down several cups of strong coffee. The expressions of the other team members seemed to reflect the same feeling.
The first roar seemed to serve as a signal; the other hidden orcs began to howl in response, though their voices lacked the same force.
"I don't know what they're up to! But I firmly believe we can get through this! Grenadiers, prepare to prevent their charge."
Stanford rallied the team, then pulled out a horn and began to blow.
The deep sound of the horn countered the orc roars, calming the team slightly.
"Charge!"
Gunther waved his club in his right hand and raised his shield in his left, leaping out first and charging up the slope.
It was just a few dozen meters, and they would be through!
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
The orcs swarmed out behind their leader, rushing forward.
"Throw!"
At Stanford's command, the grenadiers lit the fuses and hurled grenades.
If it had been on flat ground, there might have been distance limitations, but on the slope, the grenades rolled down smoothly.
The roaring explosions created large bursts of fire and smoke; the actual casualties were minimal, but the impact was significant. Many orcs were stunned by the deafening sound so close to them, their ears ringing, as if all the other sounds in the world faded away, leaving only that discomforting noise.
A few unlucky ones were hit by debris, wincing in pain.
The orc charge momentarily faltered, but some were still unaffected. The humans' crossbows joined the fray, targeting those without shields, while firelocks dealt with the shield bearers, taking down those who got too close one by one.
(End of the Chapter)
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