Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World-Chapter 687: The Battle of Silvermoon Fortress

TL: Rui88

Wooo!

The sound of a horn echoed across the plains, stirring the nerves of every man.

The fully armored orc warriors assembled in front of Silvermoon Fortress.

Judging by their appearance alone, they certainly had reason to be proud. Their nearly two-meter-tall frames, wrapped in a layer of armor, made them look even more imposing and majestic.

The orcs brandished their claws, shouting insults at the defending troops in broken Ordo curses, their hands not idle either, making all sorts of obscene gestures.

Five hundred orc warriors would carry out the assault under Amur’s lead, while the other five hundred or so would cover them with bows and arrows.

The orcs used several types of bows. For mounted archery, they used short bows, which were light, nimble, and easy to handle, but had a shorter range and less power.

When they chose to dismount and fight on foot, they would switch to longbows and large arrows. Their longbows were similar in principle to the longbows of the human world, nearly the height of an adult man, with long range and great power, capable of even piercing thinner metal armor.

Amur looked at the dilapidated fortress, feeling a little strange.

During their westward advance, it was not as if they had not encountered brave humans who dared to resist.

But when faced with insults, they would often shout back loudly.

The enemies before them, however, were as silent as stone statues, not making a sound.

This made their verbal attacks feel like punching cotton.

“Don’t waste your energy.”

Having made up his mind, Amur raised a hand, and his subordinates, who had been shouting insults, immediately fell silent.

“Warriors of the plains!”

Before battle, Amur would always give a speech to boost morale. Although he felt it was entirely unnecessary for this particular battle, he was a man who appreciated ceremony, and not a single step of the proper procedure could be skipped.

“Under the guidance of the King’s Tent, we are invincible, victorious in every battle. You have already seen it; those cowardly humans are no match for us at all.”

“But look at that pile of rubble behind me. Behind it, there is a small handful of overconfident fools who vainly attempt to block the path of the Warriors of the Plains. It is truly laughable.”

“And now, I, Amur, your chieftain, will personally lead you to crush this bunch of arrogant ants and let them see just how biting the cold wind from the plains can be.”

Inspired by him, the orcs’ blood boiled, and their eyes shot forth a torrent of fighting spirit.

“Kill them!”

“Plunder them!”

Everyone raised their weapons high, roaring various slogans, the muscles on their faces contorted ferociously.

“Archers!”

Amur waved his hand grandly.

Thump, thump, thump!

The archers, with their heads held high, approached Silvermoon Fortress, their steady steps making a loud noise on the ground.

They would use their precise and ruthless archery to suppress the human defenders inside, to cover their comrades’ attack.

Behind the breastwork, Joyce was also tensely watching the enemy’s approach, every cell in his body jumping with excitement.

When he was a young knight’s squire, he had followed Schroeder to fight the orcs at Watcher’s Fortress.

At that time, the King’s Tent on the Great Plains had already begun to show its dominance, and the various tribes, large and small, were starting to change from their previously fragmented state.

Therefore, Joyce was well aware of the formidable combat power that a united orc force possessed.

When the news of the fall of Watcher’s Fortress arrived, he even felt a sense of “the day has finally come.”

The thing he had once sworn to protect with his life was now in the hands of the enemy, and from Watcher’s Fortress all the way west, the enemy’s iron hooves had trampled one kingdom town after another.

A monstrous rage surged in Joyce’s chest.

Watching the orc archers approach step by step, he tried to suppress his anger, patiently waiting for them to enter his effective range.

The Alda Army’s Third Infantry Battalion had been re-equipped with the 1905-model rifle half a year ago. This rifle, which had undergone multiple iterations and finally received an official model name, could be called a handy tool of slaughter.

Although the 1905-model rifle was still a traditional smoothbore musket, thanks to the ever-improving quality control of Alda’s military industry, this smoothbore could effectively wound enemies at a distance of 200 yards. Furthermore, well-trained soldiers could guarantee a hit rate of over sixty percent within 90 yards. If the enemy faced the Alda army in a dense formation, the overall hit rate would be even higher.

As for the six twelve-pounder cannons, they were now all loaded with canister shot.

According to regulations, Joyce should have bombarded the enemy with cannons when they were about a kilometer away to prevent them from forming an effective formation.

But he planned to take advantage of the orcs’ unfamiliarity with firearms to make them suffer a great loss. Greeting this group of uninvited guests with an iron rain of canister shot was undoubtedly a good choice.

As the orc archers advanced, they finally drew to about five hundred yards from the breastwork.

Joyce still waited patiently, until the orc archers had closed another two hundred yards. Following behind them were orc warriors holding melee weapons.

The effective range of the orc longbow was about 160 yards. The archers silently estimated the distance, some already nocking arrows to their bowstrings.

Boom!

Boom!

Two flashes of fire appeared, followed by two consecutive roars like muffled thunder.

Dense smoke instantly billowed from the ruins of Silvermoon Fortress, quickly shrouding the fortress.

The orc archers in the front ranks fell to the ground with a great crash, as if swept away by an invisible broom.

Painful screams erupted almost immediately. They twisted their bodies and writhed on the ground, as if suffering the cruelest tortures of hell.

Astonishment gripped Chieftain Amur’s mind, making it difficult for him to accept.

“This is impossible!” He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Just now, it was the Alda Army Third Battalion’s gun positions No. 3 and No. 4 that had fired first.

Because the distance was so close, the canister shot had achieved an excellent effect. The first two rows of orc archers were almost completely wiped out.

Although they were still unsure what was happening, the archers behind them reacted quickly, their instinct for danger causing them to immediately loose a volley of arrows and turn to flee.

This distance was not their optimal firing range, especially for a hasty shot.

The rain of arrows was sparse and achieved no results.

Boom! Boom!

Two more cannons fired, and another large swath of the orc archers, who had already turned, fell.

“The humans have used black magic!”

The orc soldiers who witnessed this scene exclaimed in alarm. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

But Amur, as a general, saw that along with the muffled thunder, a large number of black dots shot out from the smoke, hitting his archers.

He immediately realized that those black tubes sticking out from the gaps in the breastwork were a brand-new weapon.

The four tubes that had just spewed fire retracted, and figures seemed to move behind the smoke.

They must be performing some sort of operation, and it was highly likely they could not fire a second time in short order—he realized this immediately.

“Charge for me!”

Amur raised his long saber and ordered the charge.

This opportunity could not be missed. As long as they could withstand the remaining two blasts, they could get over the breastwork and kill the humans hiding behind it.

What’s more, the soldiers carrying out the assault still had their thick armor.