Gunmage-Chapter 52: Hellspawn offensive

Lugh recognized that sound. It was a herald of destruction. The mechanical whine of the FSV 12 primary flamethrower had begun its relentless churn, its gears grinding with an almost ominous finality.

The ships cut through the river, their hulls slicing through the dark waters as they breached the northern defenses of Drakensmar.

The soldiers of Heieg scrambled into action, rushing to the riverbanks, but they were met with a hail of gunfire.

The Ophris ships unleashed torrents of machine-gun fire and small-caliber cannon shells, cutting down many before they could even reach cover.

The rest, forced into desperate defense, pressed themselves against whatever barricades they could find, returning fire in vain.

The city had been caught off guard. It was deep into the night, and the deafening roar of gunfire, the relentless clanking of machinery, and the panicked screams of civilians fused into a chaotic symphony of destruction.

Shadows flickered madly against the city walls as fires sparked to life.

Then came another sound, low and unrelenting. The grinding, deep roar of approaching engines. The armored vehicles of Heieg were arriving.

Massive steel-clad automobiles rolled onto the shores, their mounted machine guns and miniature cannons sending streams of hot lead into the invading forces.

Visibility was abysmal, muzzle flashes lit up the darkness in sporadic bursts, but the lack of light made their aim unreliable.

The shots thudded against the ships, and the thick plating absorbed much of the damage. Still, the suppressive fire held the attackers at bay—if only for a moment.

"Hold!"

The general’s voice cut through the noises like a blade.

The cranking gears of the FSV 12 grew louder, drowning out even the engines and the gunfire. The sound was deafening now, a promise of imminent devastation.

"Steady!"

Lugh squinted his eyes, his fingers tightening around a rifle. He braced himself for what was coming.

"Fire!"

The world turned to flames.

A blinding stream of compressed fire erupted from the main weapon, a liquid inferno surging forth and consuming everything on the eastern shore.

Soldiers standing in its path became human torches, their screams choked by the roar of the blaze.

Those in the armored vehicles fared no better, trapped within their steel enclosures, they were baked alive, their machines transformed into burning coffins.

The tires of the vehicles melted in an instant, rendering them useless.

The flames spread relentlessly, licking at the structures along the shore, turning wood and stone alike into fuel for the growing inferno.

Thick, black smoke spiraled into the sky, suffocating the air and reducing visibility even further. Soldiers stumbled, coughing, eyes stinging as the fumes filled their lungs.

The moment was not wasted.

The ship cannons roared, their thunderous blasts rattling the very bones of the battlefield. Great chunks of stone and debris were launched into the air as the shells found their targets.

The large stone bridges shuddered under the relentless barrage before crumbling into the river below.

"They’re targeting the bridges! Stop them!"

Came the desperate cry from the defenders.

But it was too late.

The soldiers of Ophris moved with precision, methodical in their carnage.

"Step 2!"

Lovainne’s voice bellowed above the din.

"Hold the lines!!"

The soldiers responded in unison, their voices rising above the inferno.

The ships maneuvered into formation, drifting into a single-file blockade across the width of the river. More cannon fire erupted, tearing through the remaining bridges.

The structures, which had withstood the test of time for centuries, collapsed in mere minutes, their ruins plunging into the churning waters below.

Yet, a few of the sturdiest bridges still held, these would require a more personal touch.

Once the ships were in position, their anchors were dropped, sealing the northern riverfront in an iron grip. The barricade was in place.

Lovainne’s ship drifted toward the eastern bank, flames still gushing from its weapon, leaving nothing but scorched ruin in its wake.

"Step 3!"

"Drag them to the pyres!"

The soldiers roared in response, their morale surging to a fever pitch.

Then, in a move that sent chills through their foes, the soldiers of Ophris jumped into the river. The waters churned violently as thousands of bodies vanished beneath the surface.

Only the bare minimum remained aboard the ships, just enough to man the cannons and ensure the barricade held.

Moments later, figures emerged from the black waters of the eastern bank, drenched but undeterred. Lovainne was among them.

As the Ophris soldiers rallied around him, he raised his voice, clear and commanding amidst the chaos.

"We were sent to die. That much was clear from the start. They formed a patchwork group, handed me this command, and expected the battlefield to bury us.

We were meant to vanish beneath the waves, just another nameless loss in a war they barely care to win.

But we survived!

We braved the horrors of the Devil Sea, and it did not claim us!

The abyss spat us back out, broken but breathing. And now, they send men against us, thinking they will finish what the sea could not.

Let them come!

We are not the discarded, not the forgotten, not the dead they wrote off before the battle had even begun!

We have defied fate once, and we will do so again. The horrors of man will not break us, because we are more than they ever dared to believe!!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the soldiers. Their blood boiled with fervor.

"Push forward! Hellspawn!"

At the vanguard, five hundred Hellborn Shock Troops surged ahead, their massive chemical tanks strapped to their backs. They carried the dreaded Pyrojets, a flamethrower-type weapon designed for nothing less than total immolation.

Clad in thick, armored overcoats and visored helmets, their black and red uniforms whipped in the wind like banners of war. They marched through the hail of bullets with a single minded purpose, their fingers tight on the triggers. And then, with a single motion, the battlefield turned into hell.

Long streams of fire burst forth from their weapons, creating a wall of scorching death before them. The flames roared higher, consuming everything in their path.

"S-Sir, they’re using the Hellspawn strategy!"

"I can see that, you idiot! Shoot them! Kill them all!"

An officer snapped, his expression twisted with frustration and dread.

But his mind raced with one terrifying realization, they had not expected Ophris to use such tactics in their own city, especially one as renowned as Drakensmar. And certainly not with civilians still present.

Before he could act, a gelatinous projectile screeched through the air, landing with a resounding explosion. A geyser of fire engulfed the officer’s position, his screams lost in the chaos.

The battlefield mirrored his fate, soldiers scrambled in panic as Ophris set the entire front alight.

Ophris soldiers pulled their visors down and charged directly into the flames.

Drenched in water, their bodies still felt the sweltering heat, but they had trained for this. Their heat-resistant uniforms and protective armor shielded them.

Their weapons, lined with cooling agents, remained functional. Their breathing was controlled, steady even as the smoke thickened.

Their enemies, however, were not prepared.

Gunpowder ignited prematurely in the heat, causing weapons to misfire or explode in their owners’ hands.

Machine guns overheated, rifles jammed, and ammunition belts went up in flames. Fear spread like wildfire, primal and uncontrollable.

Soldiers broke ranks, stumbling back in terror, only to be cut down by the Ophris troops emerging like demons from the inferno.

This was the Hellspawn strategy.

This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶