That sound—like the roar of a colossal beast, carrying an unstoppable momentum—instantly drew everyone’s attention.
A train was speeding in from the southwest. At first, everyone assumed it was just a passing train, briefly glimpsed in the night as it rushed by. But unexpectedly, it slowly pulled to a stop at Mobis City Station.
Who had arrived?
Allies?
Or enemies?
As the doors slid open, the figures stepping out gave Vesta a much-needed shot of adrenaline.
Schubert and Lance got off the train almost simultaneously. Behind them streamed a crowd of people clad in coarse burlap-woven garments. These villagers were plainly dressed, but their eyes gleamed with unwavering determination.
Lance scanned his surroundings and immediately spotted Vesta, who was in the middle of evacuating. So he raised his voice to the troops behind him, who hadn’t yet fully formed up:
“Our enemy is right before our eyes! Today is the day we defend justice and freedom!”
Schubert, who had been inwardly marveling at what on earth could have reduced a perfectly good train station to such ruins, seemed to catch Lance’s intent.
He stepped up behind Lance, his voice booming like a bell:
“This will be our first stand… and we will win it well! Let the greedy and the wicked know that we are not to be bullied!”
“Those with guns—follow me and fight!”
Schubert hefted the somewhat antiquated rifle slung across his back. The villagers who carried guns chambered their rounds with practiced precision, their movements synchronized—clearly, they had been trained.
Over a month of drills had given them a basic grasp of handling firearms, and their marksmanship had improved too.
At this moment, they were no longer helpless villagers. They were warriors fighting for justice and freedom.
The Cork soldiers watched this scene in bewilderment. They stared at this ragtag group in burlap clothes, their minds filled with confusion and contempt.
But when Schubert and his men spread out and leveled their muzzles at them, reality hit them like a bucket of cold water.
Using the cover of night, Lance and Schubert split up.
Schubert made his way into the rubble. Though it was nothing but broken walls and debris, it offered him excellent concealment. He planned to use the ruins to spring an ambush and catch the Cork forces off guard.
Leolo and Oseku weren’t fools.
They realized that this group getting off the train was also here to fight Cork. And as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. At this critical juncture, they decided to join forces with Schubert and his people.
When Schubert ordered everyone to open fire, drawing the Cork army’s attention their way, Leolo shot him a grateful glance and then commanded his own men to pour fire without reservation. Bullets rained down on the Cork forces like a hailstorm.
Due to their equipment, Schubert’s group had limited firepower. Their guns were mostly old and outdated, and their ammunition lacked stopping power. All they could really do was provide flanking support and close-quarters engagement—acting as a distraction and auxiliary force on the battlefield.
Of course, Schubert believed that if this group could get their hands on advanced weaponry and use it for just two or three days, they would outperform Leolo’s men hands down.
The Cork troops quickly snapped back to attention. After all, they were well-trained. Faced with this sudden assault, they responded swiftly.
Given the terrain, they began methodically extending their lines, retreating to the entrance of the street, where they successfully exchanged fire with Leolo’s group.
At the same time, they scavenged nearby materials to build makeshift barricades, reducing the damage from enemy bullets.
Lance and Vesta finally reunited. Vesta was first taken aback by the number of people behind Lance.
He hadn’t expected Lance to bring so many—this was undoubtedly a formidable force.
Suppressing his surprise, the two “long-separated” friends, united by a shared cause, clasped hands tightly, their eyes glistening with tears.
“I never thought that the latest of us to wake up would end up walking this path too. I never wished for you to put yourselves in danger, but it’s also because of you that I know—I’m not alone on this road.”
Lance said these words with deep emotion.
“To be honest, this was all by chance. I stumbled out of the fog that shrouded Brand University. I saw the real, brutal world for what it is, and I knew I had to do something. I can’t just stand by and let greed and evil run rampant.”
Vesta clutched the pocket watch against his chest.
“By the way, Lance—how did you know that Mobis City was at war and come to reinforce us?”
He had some doubts about how Lance and Schubert had arrived so precisely on time.
Lance pushed Limpton forward and introduced him:
“It was him. Because of the lady mage, he took a train to our village and told us that war was about to break out in Mobis City.”
“After that, we sharpened our weapons even more, hijacked a train, and recruited people and traded for supplies along the way. We met many like-minded souls—all willing to fight for freedom.”
Lance paused for a moment, then continued:
“For now, tell us the current situation in Mobis City…”
Vesta laid it all out for Lance: how the gangs had seized the Polish firearms factory, how a hundred Cork soldiers had arrived, how Renith had counterattacked with golems, and how they had eventually been suppressed by Cork reinforcements.
“So, in other words, the guard and police forces are nearly depleted… and the main fighting force now is Cork’s army, plus the night-patrol students?”
Lance had a sharp mind and immediately spotted the crux of the matter.
“Limpton, go tell Schubert—we have to win fast. If we wait for the main Cork force to arrive, none of us will survive.”
Lance made a snap decision. Time was not on their side. If they couldn’t secure a swift victory in this battle, disaster would befall them all.
Limpton nodded, then dashed off toward the ruins where Schubert was stationed, clutching his head as he ran.
“Also…”
Lance turned to look at the sturdy villagers behind him. Every face bore a trace of tension.
“I know this is your first time on a battlefield. It’s mine too. But we’ve trained for over ten days, and we’ve absorbed most of the military tactics the lady mage left us. We must not let down everyone who believes in us!”
“And we must not give in to fear. We need to give two hundred percent of our spirit and send these scumbags to their graves!”
With that, Lance led his contingent into action.
Gunfire, which had barely paused, once again echoed across the skies of Mobis City.
Limpton scrambled back from Lance’s position and dropped down beside Schubert, his face pale.
He relayed Lance’s analysis to Schubert, who understood immediately. The battle was dire; they had to find a breakthrough quickly.
But pushing for a swift victory right now was hardly a wise move. Cork’s forces were well-organized, well-trained, and well-equipped.
Unless chaos erupted within Cork’s ranks, a quick win seemed impossible.
Schubert fell into deep thought, racking his brain for a way to break the stalemate—all while keeping his hands busy.
With bullets flying everywhere, Limpton didn’t dare run back. He just crouched beside Schubert, watching him clean the barrel, load iron pellets, and fire.
After a prolonged exchange, Schubert suddenly noticed that the Cork side had almost stopped shooting in their direction.
Perhaps the Cork troops had realized that Schubert’s group was firing at too low a frequency, and their weapons—unless they hit a vital spot—couldn’t kill with a single shot.
In their eyes, Schubert and his men were nothing but a rabble, hardly worth worrying about.
So they refocused their firepower on Leolo and Oseku’s forces, who posed a much greater threat.
The losses on both sides were heavy. Bullets and grenades kept hammering their so-called “trenches”—which were little more than flimsy barricades, barely holding together under the relentless assault.
In no time, what had been a force of over thirty was whittled down to a sparse dozen or so.
At this rate, even with reinforcements, they were still doomed to lose!
Leolo was frantic. All he could do was watch his comrades fall one by one.
What could he do?
He racked his mind.
He could accept losing to Oseku—that would be a fair contest, and he’d have no complaints. But he absolutely refused to lose here!
Just then, his peripheral vision caught sight of a few familiar figures near the rear of the Cork army. They were wearing Cork uniforms—god knows where they’d gotten them—and creeping low, they appeared behind the main force.
Right now, with both sides locked in combat, all eyes were on Leolo, Oseku, and Schubert’s groups. The rear was being neglected.
Although there were many Cork soldiers transporting supplies, since they all wore the same uniforms, the supply carriers easily overlooked the infiltrators.
On the side of the street, the Cork troops had already stacked sandbag walls. If they kept extending them, they could completely seal off the main thoroughfare and engage Leolo’s group head-on.
So far in the firefight, the Cork forces were at a disadvantage. They had no cover—only a few sporadic shooters at the corner—so their only effective means of inflicting damage and slowing the enemy was grenades.
But grenades couldn’t be thrown a hundred meters, so they had to keep advancing, which led to heavy casualties among their grenadiers.
The men in Cork uniforms carefully blended into the Cork ranks. They drew small knives from their chests, silently took out two soldiers carrying supplies, and after a quick discussion, began hauling sandbags themselves as if they belonged there.
They swaggered toward the sandbag wall, ignoring their commander’s orders to hurry up. Their minds were fixed on a single goal: create chaos and turn the tide of battle.
To achieve a swift victory, they had to sow discord within Cork’s ranks.
Lance’s advice was to strike at the root.
Outnumbered and outgunned, their only chance was a surprise tactic.
So Vesta and Lance each sent one man to circle around behind enemy lines and infiltrate the two-hundred-man camp, solely to cause disruption.
Lance suggested either stealing a fully automatic weapon or detonating their grenade stockpile. Either move would create mayhem.
Both volunteers readily agreed. They had already steeled themselves.
For freedom, they said—death was the only thing worth fearing.
