Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World-Chapter 688: The Battle of Silvermoon Fortress 2

TL: Rui88

“Warriors of the Great Plains! Charge!”

Amur raised his long saber and charged at the very front.

Although the humans had used an incomprehensible method to inflict heavy casualties on the archers, his desperadoes were still fierce. Led by their officer, they took great strides and charged forward, roaring.

The orcs, clad in heavy armor, trampled up the slope. The humans behind the breastwork could even feel a faint tremor in the ground.

Behind the Alda soldiers stood the other kingdom soldiers, holding long spears. They had yet to recover from the shock of the scene they had just witnessed.

The orcs’ archery was vicious and accurate, and it had once left an indelible, terrifying impression on them.

In previous battles, no matter how tight their formations were, they would be broken by round after round of arrow rain.

But now, those fearsome archers seemed to have met their match.

It was a weapon the Northwesterners called a cannon. It spat terrifying tongues of fire forward, and those devil-like giants fell in droves, lying on the ground wailing.

But now the armored orcs were charging up. Would the Northwesterners’ weapons still be effective?

“Fire!”

With tongues of fire spitting and a continuous roar of explosions, countless grayish-white flowers bloomed in front of the breastwork, instantly forming a wall of smoke that obscured the entire front of Silvermoon Fortress.

The orcs who had charged to within a hundred meters were met with the Alda army’s first volley of musket fire and were immediately sent tumbling.

The sturdy armor did not perform as expected. In the face of the swiftly flying lead balls, it was torn apart like fragile cloth.

Clusters of blood mist erupted from the orcs’ proud, sturdy bodies, and they were then knocked to the ground by the immense kinetic energy.

A sense of panic arose in the heart of the commander, Amur.

Just a moment ago, his peripheral vision had caught a soldier who had run ahead of him suddenly lose the back of his head. His head became an indescribable mass, and his uncontrolled body pitched forward to the ground.

Amur instinctively dropped to the ground, and a small object stained with fresh blood rolled in front of him.

He reached out and picked it up, his face a mask of disbelief.

This small object was likely made of metal. It was clear that it was originally a relatively regular circle, but now it was somewhat irregular, probably dented by his subordinate’s skull.

Such an inconspicuous little metal piece, without the sharpness of an arrowhead, had so easily taken the life of an orc warrior?

At that moment, a pungent odor, not quite a stench, assailed his nostrils, making him dizzy.

He came to his senses and turned his head to roar, “Get down!”

Before he could finish, another burst of fire erupted from within the thick smoke ahead.

Now Amur knew what was hurting them. Those deadly little pellets zipped through the air, whistling towards them.

Thwip! Thwip!

Many soldiers who had not yet had time to get down were hit. Amur’s heart ached.

Faced with the humans’ unknown and terrifying weapon, he had to make a painful decision.

“Retreat!”

On the Alda army’s side, although the thick smoke from the volley made visibility for the soldiers very poor, the observation post on the high tower still saw the orcs’ retreat and promptly informed Commander Joyce.

“It seems the enemy commander is very cautious.”

Two twelve-pounder cannons had not yet fired, and with the two that had just been reloaded from the first volley, Joyce had intended to let loose a four-gun salvo to hammer the orcs.

Since the orcs were retreating, he immediately ordered the cannons to fire down the slope.

After a series of muffled thunderous roars, countless canister shots poured through the smoke screen towards the retreating orcs.

After suffering massive casualties once again, the orcs finally returned to their starting point before the attack.

“Lord Amur, why did we retreat?”

“If we had pushed forward a little more, we could have reached that low wall!”

“That’s right, once we’re over it, no matter how miraculous the humans’ weapons are, they’ll be at our mercy!”

The orc soldiers, who had suffered great losses, were shaken by the unfamiliar weapons, but they were still fierce and warlike, their fighting spirit high.

“Shut up. We are the vanguard, the eyes of the entire army.”

Amur rebuked them. “When we encounter a tough nut, we must immediately notify the brothers behind us! Not needlessly increase our sacrifices.”

He pointed repeatedly with his hand. “You, you, and you, immediately ride the fastest horses and report what just happened to the main army. They might encounter this terrifying weapon in other places, so tell them to be careful.”

“Yes, my Lord Chieftain!”

The three warriors acknowledged the order and hurried away.

“Chieftain! So many warriors have been sacrificed. Are we just going to bypass this place, or wait for the main army to come for revenge?”

Many of his subordinates longed for revenge with their own hands.

“Oh no, of course we can’t let them off, not even temporarily.”

A cunning and cruel light flashed in Amur’s eyes.

“You take a small team and make a trip to the surrounding villages and towns. Gather some human civilians. We need to thoroughly test the humans’ new weapon and gather as much intelligence for the main army as possible.”

The subordinate who had just asked the question was overjoyed. “Lord Amur, no wonder you’re the chieftain!”

He was about to turn and leave to carry out the order when a loud roar suddenly erupted from the high slope.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Dark shadows, accompanied by piercing whistles, arrived in an instant, so fast that the orcs had no time to react.

Thwack!

The incoming object slammed into the ground in front of Amur, then bounced up again!

“Ah!”

The subordinate who was about to leave screamed and fell, one of his legs having been cleanly severed.

“Oh, Spirit of the Plains! No, no!”

Watching his subordinate howl and roll on the ground, Amur’s hair stood on end.

He had seen it clearly. The humans had fired metal projectiles much larger than the small pieces from before.

They were the size of a fist. Compared to the little ones, these had greater individual power. They bounced repeatedly on the ground, and any orc soldier in their path was either killed on contact or grievously wounded.

The orcs’ mounts were also experiencing such an attack for the first time. The frightened horses neighed in terror and scattered in all directions.

The formation was thrown into chaos.

“Continue to retreat! Get away from here!”

Amur commanded loudly.

He now understood that when his troops had first arrived, the humans could have attacked them. The reason they hadn’t was to lure the orcs up the slope to their deaths!

How despicable!

He and his subordinates ran wildly in the direction away from Silvermoon Fortress.

At the same time, he wondered, how could the humans’ weapons have such a long range?

Was it a trebuchet? Or a ballista?

No, neither trebuchets nor ballistae would make that terrifying, thunder-like sound, nor would they create smoke and fire.

Wait, smoke? Fire?

A flash of inspiration struck Amur’s mind. Weren’t these the characteristics of magic from the legends?