How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 12: Miracle

The soldiers here were gathered by Spanish colonial authorities to strike at the English colony.

Though not special elite troops, they were overwhelmingly superior forces compared to the civilians from London here.

And their strength came from abundant combat experience.

They had fought against overwhelming numbers of Indians, watched comrades die from strange poisonous plants and insects, and witnessed all sorts of bizarre beasts roaming the skies and fields.

Their courage was not to be taken lightly. No, if you looked for people most accustomed to the sensation of 'strangeness' in this world, it would be these Spanish soldiers.

After all, they were the ones who left their familiar homeland and stepped into a completely new world.

And when they faced that bizarre monster, they could only utter one phrase.

"Dios mío..."

CRASH!

And another one standing dumbfounded like that died.

VROOOOOM!

Spain's sons hastily climbing over the wire mesh froze at the roar of the madly charging monster.

Horrible metallic sounds licked past their ears. The unpleasant petroleum smell that made their heads ache numbed their sense of smell.

"Arrrgh!"

"P-please spare me..."

"Monster, monster...!"

It, that yellow steel beast was frantically crushing their allies.

It seemed to savor the sweetness of slaughter while thrashing its heavy body at impossible speeds.

Rumble. Rumble.

In an instant they lost their commander, the governor.

In an instant several comrades at the front became meat pieces.

"Ha. What... is that?"

Someone's neck breaks with a hollow laugh. The monster's rapidly rotating arm had struck his head.

The body made of bright yellow metal, strange wheels like it had belts attached, and the huge single arm threateningly hanging at its head.

All of it painted with their allies' blood.

Could the Behemoth from the Bible have looked like that? Was it a product carefully crafted by Satan?

Crack.

A soldier standing in a daze accidentally gets his arm caught in the monster's joint. The frightened soldier struggles desperately but the monster emotionlessly lifts its arm and...

"Arrrrrgh!"

Crunch.

Crushes the arm.

And...

"Ra-raise your guns!"

"Uh... uhhh?"

"Fire from the front!"

RATATATA!

The ragtag militia showered them with another volley of fire.

==

I'm sorry, Mr. Shoji.

"Arrrgh! The governor has been thrown!"

"Ev-everyone retreat! Retreat!"

"Mierda! How the hell!"

Today, the forklift you lent will become a killing machine.

A horse runs at about 60 kilometers per hour.

Humans run at an average speed of about 20 kilometers when sprinting.

And this forklift can rush up to 37.5 kilometers per hour. Of course, it would break if kept running like that... but who cares. It'll repair itself.

Earlier when I pushed through once, the man called governor went flying and the soldiers crushed under him...

"Urgh! Aaaaaargh!"

...'were pulverized'.

Ugh. I won't be able to eat meat for days.

I barely held back the nausea trying to rise unconsciously. Averting my eyes from the horrible sight of flesh, bone and organs mixed together, I charged toward the other soldiers ahead.

"Eek! D-don't come! You monster!"

"You idiot! Just shoot! Shoot it!"

BANG! RATATATA!

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

The Spanish soldiers who climbed over the wire mesh didn't dare touch anyone else and just fired bullets at me. It was an excellent attempt, and excellent discipline. To attempt a counterattack in this situation.

Thwip. Thwip thwip. Thwip.

But it failed.

Why? Did you think I made this crazy plan to charge into the enemies with a forklift without any preparation? Of course I wrapped the entire cockpit in polycarbonate panels.

Unless I have really bad luck, those lead bullets definitely won't hit me...

Swoosh!

"..."

What, what was that? Did something just graze me?

Damn. The polycarbonate panel I fixed started rattling slightly from the impact earlier. A lead bullet must have flown through that gap.

THWACK!

"Urrrgh!"

Thud thud thud!

"Eeeeeek!"

While freely hitting and trampling people, I glanced at my arm and saw blood flowing hot and stinging from where the bullet grazed. Damn. If I knew this would happen, I shouldn't have made such a reckless plan.

Suddenly I was running with my life on the line. These damn Spaniards, threatening me?

No more guilt. I'll hit and trample and kill them to my heart's content...

Rattle. Rattle.

"...Ugh."

The disgusting smell of blood closes in from all directions. While the Spanish are in confusion, our allies retreat while pouring volley fire, making more enemies fall.

But we're running low on gunpowder too. While our allies who've withdrawn far back stand guard with pitchforks and spears...

During that time, it's my turn.

"Catch that thing! There's a person riding it! It's not some Behemoth or mythical monster, just a somewhat complex machine!"

"D-damn it, Lord, Lord..."

"Get your wits together! If we kill that rider and take that machine, we win!"

Damn it. How can anyone keep their wits in this situation?

When someone who seemed to be an aide officer shouted, the Spanish army that had somehow regrouped started firing their guns at me. Though the polycarbonate panels deflected most of it, the impact was huge.

"Everyone draw swords and charge! It's not that fast, you can survive if you just dodge!"

"Uwaaaah!"

"Destroy the heretics' sorcery! Kill that Indian bastard riding it too!"

And that much impact was enough for the Spanish army to recover their morale.

They were a powerful and well-trained army to begin with. Enough to regain their senses even after their governor was hit by a suddenly appearing monster and their comrades were pulverized.

I marveled at their discipline.

Though I tried to raise the speed by stepping on the accelerator somehow, as the enemy commander said, there was a big limit to the speed a forklift could achieve, and attacks became difficult once they escaped their panic state.

This... isn't good...!

This operation was designed based on the fear pre-modern people would have toward unfamiliar machinery. If the enemies break free of that fear, the basic premise of the operation is twisted.

Though I killed many enemies, there are still annoyingly many left!

Seeing our allies retreat, it seems they're already out of gunpowder, and if I fall here, the poorly equipped militia will have to directly clash with the armor-clad Spanish army.

Then there's no chance of victory.

I need to somehow corner the enemies as much as possible...!

Thud.

...Huh?

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Ha. Crazy.

"Cl-climb up!"

"Everyone climb up and kill the rider!"

Spanish soldiers in plate armor madly rushed forward and started jumping onto my forklift.

Some died getting hit, some got crushed, but none gave up. With reddened eyes they started clinging to the forklift's exterior.

"Urrrgh! Heretic devil! How dare you... Aaaaaargh!"

WHIIIIIR!

Wow! Almost died! Someone was trying to open the door so I barely managed to cut off his arm with the chainsaw! Hurriedly locked the door and grabbed the steering wheel again but... huh?

CRACK!

"Don't aim for that sturdy glass! Break the connections!"

Ha.

Right. Now this is the conquistador from the textbooks.

They fight damn well.

CLANG! CLANG CLANG! CLANG!

The Spanish clinging to the front and sides start frantically jamming steel swords between the silicone and nails used to fix the polycarbonate panels.

During that time several more soldiers fell from the vehicle, some had their heads burst getting trampled by the forklift, but the remaining ones seemed not to care and concentrated on their work with reddened eyes.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG CLANG!

I frantically turned the handle, curving until just before the forklift would tip over trying to shake them off. And the more I did that, the more Spanish clung to the vehicle body.

Now it seemed about 10 were stuck on like bugs. I couldn't even see anything through the windshield...

Oh.

Damn.

CRASH!

I collided straight into the wire mesh.

And that wasn't the problem.

CLANG CLANG!

At the same moment the forklift hit the wire mesh, some soldier's sword tore off the polycarbonate panel and thrust through the gap.

Following inertia, my body naturally lurched forward.

The two events happened simultaneously by chance. The result...

...

...I saw the sword handle protruding from my chest.

Red gushes out so much I wonder if there was really this much blood in a human body. Every time I stagger, the blade shakes and tears up my insides. It was terribly painful.

Like... my chest center was being branded with a hot iron.

Barely raising my eyes, I saw the soldier who stabbed me was already half-crushed, caught between the wire mesh and forklift. He couldn't live long.

'O one who will be immortal across ages, now a new world calls you.'

I... uh...

Damn.

'O Immortal.'

Consciousness blurs.

The smell of oil hits my nose. For some reason the opening line of "Immortal Order" echoes in my ears. Right. Stop with that immortal business already. Now it's all over...

'There is no end.'

...Huh?

'For you, end does not exist.'

I unconsciously looked down.

The blood...

'O Immortal.'

...stops.

==

"..."

"..."

In stark contrast to the metallic sounds and shouts raging until just now, a silence heavy as lead suddenly falls over this farm.

The yellow monster, that terrible death machine, finally stopped.

Dozens died and were injured to finally stop that thing. Even then, dozens still survived.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"Go-governor is alive!"

"Governor! Are you alright?"

"Don't... touch me. Seems my ribs are broken."

"..."

"..."

"That mo-monster...?"

At Vicente's question, the soldiers all point to one side.

The sight of that 'monster' miserably broken after hitting the wire mesh enters the governor's eyes. Smoke rises from the monster's side.

Seeing that sight, color returns to Vicente's face despite his joints being twisted all over.

Only.

"..."

"..."

Only the natives and English couldn't smile.

The Spanish quietly approached them. With Toledo steel covering chest and back, quality swords and shields in hand.

Now it was time to enjoy slaughter and plunder as victors. Time to chase easy prey instead of being hunted.

The settlers and natives slowly stepped back. Some collapsed with their legs giving out.

They were desperately searching for the monster's rider in the smoke.

"P-please, angel..."

But there was no angel here.

Now there were only slaughterers and those to be slaughtered here.

The Spanish armor and shields easily deflected the arrows shot by Manteo and the natives. Only one or two fell, but that was all.

Rather, their laughter grew louder. Why shoot arrows after abandoning guns? Must be because they're out of gunpowder.

Now it's time for pure hand-to-hand combat.

Time for veteran Spanish troops armored in steel to dance with mere militia and barbarians.

That's what they thought as they walked forward drooling, when.

CRASH!

At the sudden boom, everyone's gaze turns back toward that monster.

The rider was walking out of the ash and smoke, gasping for breath.

With a sword still stuck in his chest.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Everyone loses their minds at that sight.

What superhuman willpower must it take to walk out standing so straight with a sword stuck in one's chest.

"Raaaaargh!"

But the Spanish weren't ones to just watch him.

A man who just lost his comrade to him runs forward swinging his sword. The man blocked the sword with his arm as if he had no strength left, or as if he didn't care, and.

Slice.

Of course the arm was cut clean off. English women screamed, and natives trembled in fear.

And.

And...

"Who has become, not according to the law of a fleshly commandment, but according to the power of an endless life..."

As everyone couldn't take their eyes off the man, someone among the Spanish soldiers mutters a Bible verse.

"...As it is testified: 'You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.'"

Hebrews Chapter 7 verses 16 to 17.

The man looked at his severed arm.

He raised his forearm... lets everyone see.

The sight of severed bone, muscle and blood vessels growing back.