Battle of Guarma Isle

Dutch paid no mind to Miss Camille's arrival, nor to the distant thoughts of Mr. Cornwall. While Cornwall was indeed a powerful industrialist, in Dutch's eyes, he lacked one crucial asset: an army. At this very moment, Dutch Van der Linde's singular focus remained on Guarma.

Time flowed relentlessly, and three days vanished in a flash. Mac and his crew had successfully cleared the initial coastal garrison on Guarma, a move that immediately drew the attention of Fusal's forces on the island. Over the ensuing days, Spanish troops probed, attempting to forcibly retake the lost ground. Yet, under the relentless torrent of cannon fire and Maxim gun spray, their efforts proved futile, forcing them to retreat time and again.

Left with no viable option, Mr. Fusal's remaining four hundred-plus soldiers consolidated their strength at the central garrison base on Guarma. Their desperate hope was to hold out until Fusal's return, then leverage the Cuban navy to reclaim their position. Unbeknownst to them, however, Guarma was about to usher in the Spanish's day of reckoning.

"Boom!!!" A deafening roar of artillery ripped through the island's tranquility, shattering the silence of Guarma completely.

"Boom!!!" Another black cannonball shrieked through the air from a distant hilltop, arcing gracefully before plummeting into Fusal's garrison base. It landed with terrifying precision on the roof of a wooden house, erupting in a violent explosion.

"Ahhh!!" The roof was ripped asunder, and the three Spanish soldiers within were instantly obliterated. Shrapnel, screaming through the air, tore into two other soldiers outside, eliciting agonized screams.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!!"

"Ahhh! Help me, help me!!"

Chaos erupted within Mr. Fusal's garrison base. Over four hundred gunmen scrambled frantically for cover, but before many could even take a step, a relentless series of booming cannon shots echoed from the distant hilltop.

"Boom boom boom..."

Artillery fire rained down from the sky, striking the base with terrifying speed. Each explosion sent nearby Spanish soldiers hurtling through the air, their minds reeling from the concussive force. The entire garrison base became a maelstrom of explosions, a deadly celestial maiden scattering flowers. This unyielding barrage sent the soldiers sprawling. The lucky ones managed to find some semblance of cover, while the less fortunate were instantly killed or severely wounded by the blasts.

In a matter of moments, the entire garrison was in disarray, suffering heavy, crippling losses. Countless screams intertwined with the thunder of artillery, and flames shot skyward.

"Enemy attack!! Dammit, whose army is this? The US Navy couldn't possibly attack us!!"

Mr. Fusal's second-in-command, Levi Simon – the same man who had arrested Arthur on the beach in the game – was the senior overseer, left in charge after Fusal's departure. A cannonball exploded directly behind him, the immense impact flinging him into a nearby carriage with a cry of pain.

"Ouch!"

"Mr. Simon!" A subordinate quickly burst from his hiding spot, forcefully dragging the dazed Simon into the ruins of a house, barely finding a moment's concealment.

"Dammit, who is it? Who's attacking us? What kind of firepower is this? Oh, sh*t! This is definitely an army, this is definitely an army!!!" Mr. Simon's mind reeled, his ears ringing incessantly. He felt as if his life was about to end.

"Boom, boom, boom!!!"

The cannon fire outside was almost continuous. While not as perfectly synchronized as the initial salvo, it still pounded the area around the garrison base without respite. Dutch had no intention of sending his men directly into the fray; he preferred an overwhelming victory to minimize casualties. After all, lives were far more valuable than cannonballs.

Listening to Mr. Simon's frantic roars, the subordinate who had pulled him into cover spoke with a mournful face. "I don't know either, Mr. Simon. Could this be Mr. Van der Linde from Saint Denis that Mr. Fusal mentioned? After all, he's the only one who would attack us now!"

The cannonballs struck without interruption, instantly killing dozens of the four hundred-plus Spanish soldiers and wounding many more. Mr. Fusal's entire force was rapidly losing its combat strength.

"Impossible!" Mr. Simon roared loudly, his ears ringing so badly he could barely hear his own voice. Despite this, he angrily retorted, "Van der Linde is just a rogue, a desperado. Mr. Fusal said he only has fifty or sixty gunmen at most; he wouldn't dare travel all the way to Guarma to fight us! And this force, just the advance party sent to seize our position, already numbers no less than fifty or sixty men. It can't be that damned Van der Linde Gang! Dammit, dammit, this must be the US Navy, otherwise they wouldn't send an advance party to seize our position! I…"

"Boom!!!" Before Mr. Simon could finish speaking, a cannonball landed directly in front of their hiding spot. The blast buried both men beneath the wooden house's ruins. Blood spilled from their mouths from the impact, and they lay helplessly in the rubble, dizzy and disoriented.

Smoke choked the garrison base, obscuring the surroundings completely, and the continuous booming of cannonballs made it impossible for the remaining hundred-plus gunmen to even consider a counterattack. But mercifully, this rain of cannonballs finally began to slowly cease.

"Hoo!"

"Hoo!" Mr. Simon was completely pinned under a heavy wooden board, breathing with extreme difficulty. Only his head was exposed, allowing him to see the garrison base, now utterly annihilated, after the relentless bombardment. His gaze struggled to move, surveying the surroundings still obscured by thick smoke.

Within the garrison base, Spanish soldiers who had been flung by the explosions earlier lay dead everywhere, while those still alive let out miserable wails. Only a very few lucky ones were able to pick up their weapons and hide in various places, terrified to the extreme. Mr. Simon's gaze struggled to look outwards. He yearned to see with his own eyes, once the smoke cleared, who the hell had brought such an army and attacked their Guarma without a word.

However, before the smoke had fully dissipated, the ground began to vibrate slightly.

"Da da da....." Disordered and noisy footsteps rumbled from afar, beyond the smoke. The sheer distance these footsteps traveled already indicated the immense size of this approaching army. Through the hazy smoke, Mr. Simon strained his eyes, only to make out dense, sardine-like figures of soldiers moving in the distance. On the surrounding hilltops, within the dense forests, and in every corner, figures appeared. Upon closer inspection, this army numbered at least close to a thousand men.

Terrifying! Incredibly terrifying!

Fear and despair surged in Mr. Simon's heart, but it wasn't over yet. As the smoke slowly dissipated, what appeared at the very front of these army members wasn't damned soldiers, but rather carriages, and on those carriages, the cursed Maxim guns! Upon closer inspection, there were easily a hundred Maxim guns alone!

The smoke drifted into the distance, and shadowy figures, accompanied by clicking sounds, appeared on the battlefield. Mr. Simon felt an oppressive discomfort in his heart listening to this heavy and strange sound. He strained his eyes to look, and finally.

He saw rows of iron-clad men, like steel machines, breaking through the smoke, possessing bodies like iron oxen, marching towards the garrison base with a terrifying aura.

"Clank, clank, clank!" Their iron armor was thick and tough, causing a clanking friction sound with every movement.

The surviving Spanish soldiers screamed in terror at the sight before them. Even if someone picked up a gun and aimed at these iron figures, they couldn't inflict any damage on these terrifying armored soldiers. However, the rifles in the hands of these iron figures continuously emitted terrifying flashes of gunpowder.

"Pfft!" Mr. Simon spat out a mouthful of clotted blood. His eyes were dull and lifeless; he had been literally scared to death by the sheer scale of this army!

And the next moment.

"Da da da da da..."

Countless bullets pierced through the still lingering smoke and entered the garrison base. The interwoven firepower of eighty Maxim guns formed a flat barrage, completely blocking all escape routes. And on the surrounding mountains, nearly a thousand gunmen were densely packed, continuously firing bullets into the garrison base. Even if they didn't aim at all, the dense, interwoven bullets still swept across the body of every Spanish soldier.

"Ahhh!!!"

Screams echoed through the sky, but at most they would last for two sounds before being completely silenced by the bullets. The surviving Spanish soldiers who had just stood up were pierced by the dense crossfire of bullets, shattered and dismembered by the Maxim gun's bullets. Fifty steel-armored soldiers stood directly around the battlefield, blocking all exits, firing indiscriminately inside, completely unafraid of the threat of the Spanish soldiers' weapons.

Blood stained the ground, and souls crossed into the underworld. The entire island of Guarma was engulfed in war and smoke. No Spanish person could escape this burial ground! Mr. Fusal's greatest reliance, his proudest asset, was shattered like a fragile watermelon by the forces of the Van der Linde Gang!

And Mr. Fusal himself was still reveling in the joy of having intercepted the Van der Linde Gang's cargo.