Gunmage-Chapter 53: Demolition

At the middle lines of the charge, General Lovainne and his newly formed black powder task force surged forward through the blazing inferno.

The flames burned hotter than usual, fueled by volatile fleureux compounds, deadly concoctions engineered for maximum destruction.

But Lovainne’s men were no strangers to such hellfire. They had endured compulsory training in firestorm conditions, their lungs accustomed to the sting of burning chemicals.

Lyra, moving alongside them, seemed unaffected despite her wild, auburn hair trailing behind her. It refused to be burned, refused to be cut, a stubborn mystical trait that had saved her from more than one disaster.

She had loosened her braids before battle in an attempt to be more combat effective.

At this moment, all traces of magic were suppressed. The air, thick with soot and gunpowder, carried only the metallic scent of blood and burning flesh.

Somewhere beyond the walls of fire, enemy magicians surely lurked. If the intelligence reports were accurate, they were working for Heieg and would most likely be making their way toward a primary objective

Assassinating Lovainne, the one man holding this chaotic force together.

While the general held the front, one of Lugh’s puppets, alongside two Xhi operatives, moved like ghosts along the waterlogged shorelines, following a separate demolition team tasked with crippling the key bridges.

Their boots squelched against the sodden earth. To their right, a barricade of ships stretched across the river, strategically spaced to cover more ground. To the left, towering infernos cast long, flickering shadows over their faces.

A sudden boom erupted from the waters, a ship’s cannon belching smoke. The shell screamed through the air and slammed into a massive armored vehicle, the impact folding steel like paper before sending it plunging into the river below.

Near the crossing, Lugh took position. He wielded a bolt-action rifle, his breathing slow and steady as he lined up his shots. Night combat under fire, illuminated only by stars and the raging inferno, should have been impossible.

Yet, for Lugh, it wasn’t.

His extraordinary marksmanship had been honed through blood and fire, just not personally.

It was the sharp instincts of Riley Osniel, the spy with years of experience, combined with the raw talent he had stolen, accidentally or not, from Lieutenant Dain.

He recalled the inhuman soldiers that had nearly killed him and Captain Veyland before. Their precision had been terrifying. And now, he was doing the same. A cold feeling settled into his gut.

Come to think of it, Xhi the Priestess demonstrated the same eerie talent.

She was just as good as him. Actually, she was even better

While thinking of this, a soldier ahead of Lugh fell without a sound, a burst of machine-gun fire stitching bloody holes across his back.

"Cover!"

Someone shouted. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

Lugh and the others dived behind whatever they could find—fractured stone, an overturned carriage, the rusted carcass of a disabled armored vehicle. The enemy gunner didn’t let up.

Bullets chewed through their cover, forcing them down as Heieg’s soldiers advanced.

"Now!"

An officer barked.

A canister was hurled into the air.

Lugh barely needed to think. His rifle cracked, and the shot hit dead center.

The explosion was immediate, a fireball of heat and light engulfing the night. The advancing soldiers recoiled, momentarily blinded.

A puppet, belonging to Xhi, rose from cover. In a single fluid motion, it fired a single shot before it was cut down, riddled with bullets. But the damage was already done, its bullet had struck the enemy gunner’s skull, silencing the machine gun.

The Ophris soldiers surged forward, seizing the opening.

The battle descended into sheer brutal gunfire at close quarters, knives flashing, blood painting the ruins. Both sides suffered.

Human bodies dropped like flies, the clash of metal and flesh deafening amidst the carnage.

Despite the losses, the demolition crew pressed forward, planting their charges on the bridge.

That was when the monster emerged.

Not one of the flimsy armored cars they had encountered before. This was something else, a towering behemoth of metal and firepower, its treads churning the battlefield to mud.

Flanked by smaller, nimbler armored cars, it advanced like a war god, its twin cannons aimed at the heart of Ophris’ forces.

A tank.

For a moment, the soldiers faltered. Despite being told such machines existed, seeing one in person was different.

A major’s voice shattered the paralysis.

"2nd Platoon, Cinder Company, retreat!"

"The rest of you, hold the line! We’ll draw them onto the bridge!"

Ophris soldiers scrambled into defensive positions, providing cover for the retreating team.

But Heieg’s mechanized infantry had already begun their own assault. Machine guns blazed. Cannons roared. Soldiers screamed as they were cut down.

The tank fired.

A thunderous explosion obliterated a group of men sheltering behind a wall, reducing both to pulverized rubble.

Lugh saw men clutching their heads in despair, others standing with grim resignation. Some, too young or too green to handle the horror, simply broke.

"This is hell."

The major yelled again, voice cutting through the gunfire.

"NOW!"

The man threw down his weapon and sprinted to the edge of the bridge.

Then, to everyone’s shock, he jumped.

Realization struck a second later.

One by one, soldiers followed suit, hurling themselves into the river below. They discarded weapons, armor, anything that would slow them down. Some made it. Some didn’t.

Lugh’s puppet was among the unlucky ones.

A shell detonated too close, the shockwave flinging him backward. He hit the ground hard, ears ringing, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

His vision swam.

Then he saw his legs.

Or rather, where they used to be.

"Well... f*ck."

The tank loomed closer, treads grinding the shattered remains of the bridge beneath it. Lugh braced himself. This was it.

Then—

BOOM.

A chain of massive explosions detonated in rapid succession.

The bridge groaned as cracks split across its foundations. Large chunks of stone and steel jutted free, the supports caving in under their weight.

The tank stalled.

Then the world gave way beneath it.

The bridge collapsed, taking the entire armored column with it.

The monstrous tank tumbled into the river, vanishing beneath the dark waters, its death marked by a final, echoing explosion.

Lugh was falling too.

The massive chunk of debris beneath him plunged into the river, dragging him down into the abyss. The icy water swallowed his body whole.

Then—

A massive stone slab crashed down from above.

Lugh had just enough time to realize what was happening before...

CRACK.

His skull shattered.

His body flattened.

He was gone.

Lugh stumbled forward, gasping.

He was alive, fighting alongside Lyra amidst the ruined battlefield.

The memories of his puppet’s death burned fresh in his mind.

"That was... disturbing."

Lyra glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

"You alright?"

Lugh exhaled, trying to steadying himself.

"Yeah,"

He muttered.

"I just died, that’s all"

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