Gunmage
Chapter 64: Explosions

Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Explosions

Lugh was the only one who could still move. He quickly stumbled forward and picked up a discarded machine gun.

There was a deep cut in his head where blood flowed, but that didn’t matter. He took in a deep breath, trying not to focus on the pain, and laid in wait with the weapon.

The moment enemy soldiers emerged from the smoke, pressing in on the armored vehicle, he squeezed the trigger.

A stream of bullets erupted from the flashing muzzle, tearing through flesh and armor alike.

"They’re still alive!"

The panicked voices in Heiro reached his ears. He knew what was coming next.

A fragmentation grenade arced through the air, landing inside the vehicle. Without hesitation, Lugh snatched it up and hurled it back.

A moment later, it detonated in a fiery burst, sending shrapnel flying in all directions.

Lugh had already made his next move. Tossing his machine gun away, he sprinted to the unconscious soldiers inside the vehicle, stripping them of their firearms, sidearms, and unused grenades, throwing them all out.

Through the Mawglass, he could see the expressions of the enemies through the thick metal plating of the armored car.

He saw them hesitating, confusion plain on their faces. Why were weapons suddenly being tossed from the vehicle?

However, that didn’t dull their response. The autonomous dual cannons rotated, aligning their aim at the armored car.

Lugh sat down with his back against the interior walls of the vehicle.

He took a deep breath and braced himself.

"^@#@^&*"

"Explode."

In an instant, the world around him erupted.

The weapons outside detonated, triggering a chain reaction.

Shells ignited, grenades burst, magazines cooked off, and the armored vehicles’ fuel tanks exploded into an all-consuming inferno.

The blast wave rippled outward, shaking the ground and toppling debris. The armored car Lugh was in was thrown like a child’s toy, tumbling across the battlefield before slamming into the ground.

Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and abundant, it was visible from every corner of the city.

Lugh! Lugh, what is happening?!"

Lyra’s frantic voice rang through the puppet link. The human body she had been speaking to wavered, then collapsed to one knee before going completely limp.

"Lugh? Lugh!"

The other soldiers observed the scene with bewildered expressions.

Wasn’t Lugh the other guy?

Why did the person who Lyra was talking to suddenly collapse?

Their eyes fixed on the unnaturally long hair that flowed like a river from beneath her helmet.

This squad in black... They wanted to ask questions but thought better of it, fearing the consequences.

"Step on it!"

"Yes, ma’am."

The driver replied to Lyra’s order. They arrived at the scene fairly quickly.

It was a raging inferno.

"Lugh!"

"Lugh!!"

Lyra called out, but there was no response. She was about to dive headfirst into the flames when gunshots echoed.

A bullet pierced through her shoulder, the impact jolting her back a few feet. More shots echoed, and soldiers around her dropped.

Enraged, Lyra couldn’t care for concealing her magic. Her hair surged up like a storm, creating a wall of auburn between them and the attackers, blocking the next volley of shots.

She whispered unheard words, and the foremost attackers felt their minds splinter. The pain was excruciating, and they dropped their weapons, clutching at their heads in agony.

Her comrades, though initially stunned speechless by the display, forced themselves to move, capitalizing on the moment.

They fired and fired, gunning down their immobile enemies.

Lyra used her auburn locks to create an impenetrable veil around her as she dove into the raging fires, searching for Lugh.

Though she was protected from the naked flames—her hair refused to burn, after all—she still felt the searing heat and the thick, suffocating smoke that blocked her lungs.

And yet, she pressed on, suicidal in her quest.

At this point, the clouds overhead released a single drop of rain. Soon after, water began to pour from the heavens, washing away the stench of death that filled the city.

Perfect timing.

Lyra thought to herself as she continued to search the area. She turned over bodies and looked into vehicles.

The Ophris flag that Renshaw had attached had long burned away. She knew the odds of finding Lugh alive were slim, but she refused to accept them.

The sudden rain was a well timed blessing.

Actually, no. It wasn’t.

Some time ago, when Xhi’s puppets stationed around the Prince collapsed, Lovainne had become anxious. He ordered Vaelith to check on the situation, but she adamantly refused.

In reality, her position was much higher than his.

He had temporary authority over her for this campaign, but it was limited. He couldn’t force her to act against her will.

At first, Lovainne tried to reason with her. When that failed, he demanded. When she still refused, he grew increasingly uneasy. The explosion in the city had only worsened his paranoia.

Lugh’s puppet had stopped responding. Something had gone terribly wrong. He lost all patience, and in his desperation, he did something reckless, something he knew he would regret.

He invoked a one-time royal decree, forcing Vaelith to immediately provide aid, without concern for the future consequences.

Thus, Vaelith began advancing to the location, all the while using her magic to make the swollen rain clouds release an early downpour.

Lyra searched for some time. Most of the cars were charred and in terrible condition, but there was one that wasn’t.

This one was flipped on its side, its front end folded in like a tin can. It hadn’t exploded but it looked way worse. Crushed and warped, as if something massive had struck it.

She had subconciously avoided looking at it, fearing the worst, but now she had no choice.

She climbed over the wreckage, peering into the twisted remains. The first thing she noticed was a familiar helmet on the floor.

She surged forward, barely avoiding the bodies strewn about. When she finally reached him, her heart clenched.

Lugh lay there, his helmet gone. Blood stained his flaxen hair, dribbling from his nose and eyes. His skin was cold, far too cold.

Yet he was alive. More than that, he was conscious. His pupils drifted lazily, unfocused, as if caught between worlds.

She held his head in her arms, her voice soft.

"Lugh?"

His lips parted, his voice weak but clear.

"Mum?"