Gunmage
Chapter 72: Iron tide

Chapter 72: Chapter 72: Iron tide

The mages embedded within the rebel forces were the only reason they hadn’t collapsed under the relentless onslaught.

Yet, the flow of battle was changing. The soldiers of Heieg, a force of nature in their own right, began pushing back.

If the will of those from Ophris burned hot like wildfire, then Heieg’s was something else entirely. Bold, unyielding, like polished steel.

Their hardened discipline, their relentless iron will, threatened to break the resistance apart.

Towering war machines stood like fortresses amidst the tide of bullets and blood, a grim testament to Heieg’s military might.

Lugh found himself struggling to keep up on the front lines.

Lyra had been forced to reveal her mystical hair more times than she’d like, her strands writhing and slithering like living serpents, reacting to the rhythm of combat as though dancing to a tune composed of nothing but death.

Each strand coiled and struck with unnatural precision, a grim symphony of destruction.

"Retreat!"

The command rang out, and the battered resistance forces began falling back, moving step by step, never turning their backs on the enemy.

Heieg’s troops pressed forward with merciless efficiency, but their advance was disrupted on both flanks. The forces led by Xhi and Vaelith unleashed a hail of bullets, momentarily diverting the enemy’s attention.

Vaelith raised her hands, muttering a chant, and a glowing magic circle rotated between her palms. The dreary atmosphere, already weighed down by rain, became even more oppressive as thick fog began to seep through the battlefield.

It spread unnaturally fast, rolling over the mud and corpses like a living entity.

The soldiers of Heieg hesitated. Some cursed, others clenched their jaws in frustration. They had no idea where the fog had come from, but those fighting for Ophris were grateful.

They assumed it to be the work of their own hidden mages, and for now, that was enough. Questions could come later. Survival was the only priority.

Under the cover of the mist, the resistance fled with all the speed they could muster. Heieg’s forces fired blindly into the fog, but their officers quickly called for a halt. The fog had thickened to the point where visibility was reduced to barely three meters.

Now, they were left with a choice, retreat and risk losing all the ground they had fought to reclaim, or push forward into the unnatural haze and risk an ambush.

Under the sharp command of an unnaturally tall major, the soldiers of Heieg pressed on.

It was a dreadful mistake.

Explosions erupted one after another, triggered by charges, mines, and tripwires that had been meticulously planted before the retreat.

Thunderous flashes lit up the battlefield, and the concussive shockwaves sent soldiers flying. The earth trembled. Shattered metal, blood, and mangled bodies were hurled into the air.

The fog was swallowed by roaring flames, and the light drizzle transformed into falling ash.

Seeing their enemy stumble, the resistance forces suddenly halted their retreat. Their hesitation turned to newfound momentum.

Exploiting the chaos of their ambush, they launched into a renewed offensive, pitting their very lives against Heieg’s forces.

A thunderous cheer erupted from the rebels, mounting into a roar that drowned out the sounds of gunfire.

Lugh turned eastward.

There, an enormous group of no less than a thousand fighters was charging toward the battlefield, their weapons raised. A fresh wave of bodies. Reinforcements.

Lyra caught his gaze and turned to Natalia, who had somehow managed to survive the frontlines despite the sheer brutality of combat.

No, not somehow. She hadn’t survived through skill or luck, she had survived because Lyra had saved her at least ten times over. And the number would only continue rising.

"Who are they?"

Lyra asked.

Natalia exhaled sharply, catching her breath.

"That’s Old Man Clarent and the fighters from the Stone Close district. They were the ones who gave us the intel on where Heieg’s armored vehicles were stored."

Lugh made a silent note to investigate these people further. But for now, there were more pressing matters, such as crushing the remaining enemy forces.

He pushed off a ledge, abandoning his now-empty machine gun as he vaulted down. He hit the ground hard, rolling to disperse the impact, before snatching up an enemy rifle from a fallen soldier.

A second later, shots whizzed past him, barely missing.

A sniper round thundered from two hundred meters away, but its sound was swallowed by the cacophony of battle.

Lugh didn’t hesitate. As he leaped from cover, the bullet from his hidden puppet struck an enemy soldier square in the chest, while his main body fired another shot, dropping a second target before they could react.

He didn’t wait. Tossing the rifle aside, he broke into a mad sprint, vaulting through the shattered remains of a building’s window.

Inside, on the dusty floor, lay another machine gun. One he had placed there in advance using his second puppet. It had been waiting for him.

He grabbed it and rose to his feet, his mind splitting into different perspectives, showing him exactly where the enemies where

He racked the bolt and ran up the stairs, lugging the heavy weapon with ease. His body was still broken, still exhausted, but the pain hadn’t caught up to him yet. He knew it would. When the backlash came, it would hit all at once.

But not yet.

He reached the vantage point, leveled the machine gun, and opened fire. A hail of bullets tore into Heieg’s frontlines.

Soldiers scrambled for cover. Some were too slow. The rest were forced to stall their advance, their momentum breaking apart.

Seizing the moment, his puppet surged forward. Lyra followed, and the rest of the resistance charged in unison.

Lugh’s main body was already moving to the next vantage point, weaving through the battlefield with an eerie, unnatural precision.

He wasn’t just controlling two bodies, he was controlling three. One commanding from the rear, one leading at the front, and one lurking in the chaos, striking from the shadows.

Adversity was the greatest catalyst for growth.

He wasn’t just learning, he was evolving.

By now, the reinforcements from the Stone Close district had clashed with Heieg’s troops. The soldiers of Heieg fought with brutal determination, making their enemies bleed for every inch of ground gained.

But ultimately, they were overrun. Cut down. Some tried to flee. A few attempted to destroy the depot of armored vehicles to prevent the resistance from using them. None succeeded.

Most, however, chose to fight to the bitter end, falling with their weapons in hand.

This was the strength of Heieg’s army. The ’Iron Tide.’ A force that would rather be shattered than bend. Their devotion to their homeland was unwavering, even in death.

As the last pockets of resistance were crushed, the two rebel groups converged at the depot, surrounded by the hulking silhouettes of captured tanks and vehicles.

A tense silence fell.

The newcomers turned their wary gazes on Lugh and the others.

"Who are they?"

One of them asked, pointing at Lugh and the mages who stood shrouded in their black uniforms and archaic helmets.

"You’re right"

Another voice spoke up. It was Natalia.

"Who are they?"

The groups instinctively pulled back, leaving Lugh and the mages at the center.

Lugh grimaced.

This might be bad.