Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 855 - 66: Guns and Fire_2

"Ha... hahaha."

The Prison Warden suddenly laughed, still using that familiar fervent yet thoughtless tone.

A mortal challenging the "gods."

Just like in that distant realm, before the advent of the First Epoch, when humans bravely rebelled against the Old Gods.

"Do you see it?"

The Prison Warden murmured softly to the manuscript, "You said the 'hero' has appeared."

On the fifth level, a thunderous noise nearby startled all the guards. They saw a crack appear in the sealed high wall ahead, but this time, what appeared before them was neither the fourth-level nor the five-meter-tall King of Gluttony, but a familiar face.

Wielding sword and shield, using his body to break a path to the fifth level.

"The hero, it's actually the hero!"

"Why would the hero join the rebels!?"

Even though Solan was no longer accompanied by those renowned comrades, he was not alone; more and more people emerged from the other side of the crack. They were dressed in prison uniforms and armed with guards' standard-issue muskets, forming an immediate standoff with the guards.

These were the prisoners from the fourth level.

Their arrival presented another dreadful fact to the guards—was the King of Gluttony defeated?

A girl in the crowd confirmed their suspicion, loudly declaring, "That fatso is dead. If you know what's good for you, lay down your weapons and surrender!"

Behind the girl was a terrifying, flickering black shadow.

"The De-Demon King!?"

The hero has actually allied with the Demon King!

This was a scenario they couldn't have imagined even in their dreams; an unprecedented sense of oppression spread among the crowd, until a stern shout snapped them back to reality, "They're just a bunch of rebels, open fire!"

"Bang—!"

The guards stopped thinking and fired in unison.

Before the bullets, like raindrops, fell into the crowd, Solan, who held the sword and shield, stepped forward a few paces. He raised his shield high, and the surging battle energy formed a visible barrier before the many prisoners. With his eyes wide open and jaws clenched tightly, bullets struck the barrier, consuming what little remained of his battle energy. Even so, he didn't take a single step back.

After a round of volleys, the barrier was already riddled with holes.

"Brothers, take them down!"

The prisoners erupted in a shout.

Faced with bullets at such close range, a stark contrast appeared; no one stood out from the guards' defensive line. Although the entrenched positions shielded them from most bullets, still many projectiles pierced through the line, hitting the guards behind the cover.

In an instant, flesh and blood flew, and screams echoed endlessly.

Seeing this, the front-row guards instinctively retreated, catching sight of the Eldest Prince and the man in the black cloak by his side. They hadn't spared a glance at the downed guards, instead ordering the retreating guards, "Hold your ground. Anyone who takes another step back will be treated as a deserter!"

The man in the black cloak slowly drew a noble rapier, fulfilling the prince's orders as the Military Governor.

This sword was to execute cowards retreating on the battlefield.

"Stay behind me and advance together!"

On the other side was the hero, eyes bloodshot. Keen observers noticed the bleeding wound on Solan's left shoulder, sustained in battle with the Imperial Army Commander Cedric. Even while teetering on the brink of collapse, the hero didn't step back.

At this moment, under the hero's lead, the prisoners displayed tactical cohesion far surpassing that of the guards. They no longer wasted gunpowder, using the nearly shattered shield as cover.

Aiming, shooting, reloading.

More and more guards fell into pools of blood, under such overwhelming contrast, someone finally cracked under pressure.

"Your Highness, we should retreat to the central area and wait for the Observer to—"

Before the words were out, the rapier in the black cloaked man pierced an old guard's chest. Beneath the black cloak, the man's face bore no sympathy as he spoke, "This is the fate of deserters."

He issued orders to all the guards, "Dying for the Empire is your honor!"

The Royal Family's honor wouldn't allow them to be repeatedly defeated by a group of prisoners, "The hero is already at his wit's end; those who purge the rebels will be rewarded accordingly!"

He was truly cautious of the Demon King hidden among the crowd. After shouting, the Demon King's presence quieted down.

The Demon King's target was Prince, trying to reduce her presence as much as possible, evaluating the distance to strike in one decisive blow.

Closer, closer still.

The man in the black cloak saw the prisoners break through the guards' defenses, drawing their swords, roaring as they plunged into the crowd. Each had blood-red eyes, seemingly wanting to vent their discontent and humiliation as prisoners in this moment.

He also saw the pitch-black shadow burrowing underground, silently approaching the back of the formation.

When that shadow burst through the ground, reaching beside the Prince, the royal rapier in the black cloaked man's hand seized the opportunity, thrusting straight at the shadow's chest.

However, the battle didn't unfold as he anticipated. The struck shadow inflated and exploded like a bursting balloon, violently flinging him several meters away. Before he could regain his footing, the shadow emerging from the ground swung its arm toward his throat.

Tricked!

The Demon King's target from the beginning was him!

The black cloaked man rolled away in a sorry state, yet the shadow, having transformed into a whip, still slashed across his chest, the searing pain rapidly spreading.