Rebellion 6

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

Chacon stared intently at the lord's camp, feeling both excited and fearful.

In the previous charges, the gruesome fates of those unfortunate enough to be hit were still fresh in his memory. Having grown up without ever worrying about food or clothing, Chacon had excellent night vision. He had personally witnessed someone's head get smashed by some unknown object, perhaps that "bullet" Ferguson had mentioned.

But he didn't dare disobey his father's orders.

So, before charging, he donned the full-body armor passed down through his family for generations. The armor was polished to perfection, gleaming brightly under the moonlight.

Made from the finest steel, the armor could withstand even the sharpest swords. Chacon was confident that with it, he could storm the lord's camp, take the tyrant's head, and win the beauty's heart—just like in heroic adventure novels, assuming Lady Setia was still unharmed.

He gripped his greatsword with both hands and clanked his way to the front.

"Everyone, listen up! When I give the order, charge with me. This time, we will surely banish the evil possessed by the devil from this world!"

He raised his sword high.

"Victory will be ours!"

Thanks to his family's renowned armor, Chacon cut an imposing figure. Combined with his status as the second son of the prestigious Valen family, his appearance instantly boosted the morale that had plummeted after several failed charges.

"Kill the tyrant!"

"Down with Grayman!"

"Justice will prevail!"

The reckless mercenaries from the various families shouted fanatically. After all, the enemy only had about fifty men.

...

"They're preparing to charge again!"

Lady Ladia loudly alerted everyone.

After several repelled attacks, the rebels regrouped for another assault.

"Damn it, how many men do they have?"

Paul, now scared, wondered if they should break out and escape.

No matter how low the enemy's morale or poor their combat skills, if they kept defending without moving, the attackers wouldn't just retreat for no reason.

If something went wrong with the call for reinforcements, or if the aid arrived too late, their ammunition, food, and water would eventually run out. Meanwhile, the rebels could constantly replenish their supplies and rotate fresh troops.

But Paul was unfamiliar with the terrain, and the rebels had been plotting for so long that every path might be filled with traps.

As his mind wrestled with itself, a burst of crazed shouting came from the depths of the forest, mingled with various slogans.

"Fine, let them come! I'm not afraid of you!"

Paul raised his pistol angrily. He had already killed five men with it in the earlier battles.

The gun still carried some residual heat, even though it had been soaked in water and then dried.

The intense fighting had caused many barrels to overheat, but fortunately, each guard had two guns, and the cooler nighttime temperatures helped dissipate the heat.

Because of the hot barrels and the cover of trees, the rebels had managed to break into the camp a few times, but they were repelled by the brave guards. However, nearly all of Paul's men were injured.

The rebels gathered again.

Victor spotted the charging enemy, his eyes widening as he patted Anglim, the "sniper" who had just reloaded his rifle.

"See that flashy guy?"

"Lord Victor, you mean the glowing one?" The moonlight bathed Chacon's finely crafted armor in a mysterious, elegant light.

"Yes, that fool. Save your bullet for him. When he's within range, take him down."

"Understood, Lord Victor."

...

"Charge!"

Chacon shouted, swiftly stepping forward with his greatsword, dragging his heavy armor as he charged.

"Kill!" His comrades followed, running toward the lord's camp.

Bright flashes lit up the camp again, just like before. One by one, the rebels were struck down by bullets.

Chacon forced himself to ignore the tragic fates of the fallen and kept his eyes fixed on Grayman's camp.

Suddenly, he felt a powerful impact against his abdomen. The force was so great that it halted his charge.

Ugh! It hurts so much!

A sharp pain shot through Chacon, as though his stomach had been struck by a massive iron hammer.

With a clang, his armor echoed with the sound of impact, and Chacon fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

Cautiously, he reached down to feel his abdomen.

Luckily, there were no cracks! That meant whatever hit him hadn't pierced through.

After taking a few breaths, Chacon, enduring the discomfort, stood back up.

"Take down the tyrant!"

He shouted as he rejoined the charge.

"Damn it! Can't you aim better?"

Victor angrily scolded the rifleman.

"Apologies, Lord Victor!" Anglim quickly reloaded. "But I swear I hit him—look at how he knelt just now."

Fine, Victor thought, perhaps the armor was just too good, or maybe the darkness had caused the sniper to misjudge the distance, reducing the bullet's impact.

"I swear the next shot will kill him," Anglim said fiercely.

Several others had noticed Chacon glowing under the moonlight and fired at him too.

But the man seemed incredibly lucky, as none of the shots hit him.

Just as Chacon was about to reach the barricades, Anglim finished reloading.

Before he could fire, an astonishing tongue of flame shot out from beside Paul, like a giant snake attacking its prey. The flames hit Chacon directly—the green-haired witch had struck.

Chacon's entire body ignited as though drenched in oil. The flames rapidly spread across him.

"No! No!"

Chacon dropped his sword, frantically slapping at his body, the force of his blows causing his armor to rattle.

But it was all in vain. The searing heat quickly penetrated the metal, reaching his flesh.

"Ahhhh!!!"

In less than a minute, Chacon was no longer capable of any rational action. He collapsed to the ground, rolling desperately in response to the intense pain.

Anyone who approached him would smell the stench coming from his armor.

The suit that was meant to protect him had now become his prison.

(End of the Chapter)

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