Blackstone Code-Chapter 412: Land Battleship

Two nights later, a train slowly moved along the railway entering the Amellia region. In the darkness, it looked different from ordinary trains.

At the front, two track inspection vehicles carrying some rails maintained a distance ahead to ensure the tracks were intact.

Since the resistance intensified, various public facilities in Amellia had been sabotaged, including the railways.

The local railway system was nearly half out of service. Even if the Gephra repaired the tracks early in the morning, the resistance would destroy them again before nightfall.

This tactic aimed to prevent the Gephra from quickly moving reinforcements, avoiding the resistance getting surrounded during attacks.

Without rapid train transport, reinforcements arrived more slowly, giving the resistance an advantage.

This approach proved effective, so destroying the railway network between cities became common.

Surprisingly, rail lines to other regions remained largely intact. The resistance’s backers showed little interest in them, and damaging those lines served no purpose.

Gephra faced many problems, including food shortages.

After the war, Gephra prioritized city reconstruction, leaving rural areas behind. Most cities still depended on imported food, making railways crucial to prevent famine. No one dared destroy this lifeline without major incentives.

The train moved slowly. Lynch and his men observed it from a nearby vantage point. Flickers of light occasionally revealed the covered cars but only roughly.

The tall piles of cargo were covered with tarps—basic protection against the coastal region’s frequent summer rains.

However, the load inside was stacked unusually high, well above normal levels. The locomotive itself was also special.

It was larger and more powerful than any train Lynch had seen before. Though its wheels turned slowly, each rotation exuded immense strength.

“Looks like no issues…” Lynch studied it and said, “Maybe it’s their new model.”

His tone held a mix of envy and jealousy. Those who never faced war or the humiliation of defeat couldn’t understand the desperate desire to grow stronger.

A powerful locomotive symbolized industrial might. If it surpassed other nations’ most advanced engines, Gephra would dominate land transport capacity.

When would they ever develop such technology?

Lynch glanced at the chief instructor beside him, who also seemed uncertain. The train crawled through the valley below the hill.

Several Gephra soldiers escorted the train. From their view, nothing unusual was apparent—except for the oversized locomotive and the suspiciously heavy cargo.

As they debated, either due to carelessness or a loose tie by the soldier securing the tarps, one of the ropes suddenly snapped.

In an instant, Lynch heard sharp gasps nearby. But he had no time to look around. Everyone’s eyes focused on the first freight car.

A mountain of weapons.

Brand-new arms, crates of ammunition, and medical supplies.

Even a glimpse was enough to quicken their hearts and flood their veins with adrenaline.

The resistance in Amellia almost exclusively used Gephra weapons—an ironic fact.

Both sides wielded the same standard issue weapons, often from the same factories.

Rumor had it the Emperor of Gephra ordered the imprisonment of two arms manufacturers, including a viscount, yet massive amounts of Gephra-standard gear still flowed into Amellia. ꞦÄƝο𝐛ÊŞ

This worsened the conflict, as both sides shared the same weapon specs. The resistance often raided Gephra outposts and arsenals to replenish supplies, escalating hatred.

Lynch and his team knew each crate marked with a rifle symbol held ten new weapons, and each bullet can contained two thousand rounds.

The medical kits had enough supplies to treat three to five moderate casualties.

All of this was deeply tempting for the resistance.

Suddenly, an officer-like figure appeared from the next car, shouting orders. The train slowed, and soldiers began retying the tarps.

The temptation was overwhelming.

A gunshot shattered the night’s silence. A Gephra soldier fell, and chaos erupted as others scattered, some diving under the train.

The attack was fierce from the start.

Flare guns lit the sky, guiding the resistance’s aim. The Gephra soldiers retreated rapidly, vanishing into the darkness.

Victory.

Lynch clenched his fist, ready to lead his men down to seize the spoils when the chief instructor suddenly grabbed his collar, pushing him to the ground. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

At that moment, the tarps covering the freight cars were pulled back, revealing turret after turret.

This was no mere supply train—it was a mobile land battleship.

Spotlights blazed from the train’s center, illuminating the hillside like daylight.

Everyone shielded their eyes, fear gripping them as they stared through their fingers at the rotating gun turrets.

The apocalypse had arrived.

Deep explosions roared like a tragic symphony, drowning all other sounds. Only the thunderous cannon fire remained.

Over a hundred kilometers away, the governor sat in a room with closed eyes.

A phonograph spun a record: The Roar, composed by Celes, hailed by the Emperor of Gephra as a “stirring masterpiece.”

This was no gentle music. Composed in Celes’s darkest days, after losing his family to a plague that decimated the town, it was raw rage against fate and life.

The entire town had fallen, corpses rotting and fouling the streets.

Gephra’s army quarantined the town, sealing it off.

Amid despair, Celes poured his fury, resistance, and questions at destiny into music.

The deep bass sounded like a fiery cry from the soul’s depths, evoking the helplessness and fierce defiance against fate.

The governor, eyes closed and head slightly tilted back, moved his hands rhythmically—sometimes flowing gently, sometimes clenched tightly in fists.The officer at the door didn’t dare disturb the governor and stood quietly until the last sound faded into the air.

“Ha…” The governor opened his eyes, sharp and focused. A servant brought him a warm towel, which he took and pressed to his face, wiping it gently.

This was his habit—after enjoying music, he would soothe his face with warmth to fully relax.

After a moment, he removed the towel, stood up, and walked to his desk. Looking up at the officer by the door, he asked, “Did we win?”

The officer stood rigid, heels of his metal boots clicking crisply together. “Yes, sir. We’ve received reports from the front: over four hundred mutilated bodies have been found. Only a few enemies escaped.”

This might have been the most glorious victory since the resistance erupted. Yet no joy showed on the governor’s face. He even shook his head. “No, this isn’t victory. Our war has only just begun…”

He fell silent briefly before issuing an order: “Notify all posts. Monitor medical supplies closely. Strengthen controls. Begin continuous random checks on households…”

This was not victory. The governor knew very well they might have lost. Their secret imperial weapon had been delivered early to Amellia.

Originally meant as a decisive asset for the next war to push the frontline forward, it was now exposed prematurely.

It was a humiliation, a failure, but an unavoidable one.

If the situation here wasn’t brought under control soon, the entire region would spiral further out of control. Gephra’s sovereignty might shrink to a handful of major cities.

After all, this was not Gephra’s homeland. Every non-Gephra on this land could be an enemy.

They were trapped deep inside enemy territory. The real war was only just beginning.

But he was confident in ultimate victory because behind him stood one of the world’s most powerful military nations—that was his assurance.