TALES OF A WITCHER - Season 8 Episode 47

The night was not the perfect hour to fight.

The sun and the moon both became invisible during the Months of Demons. Dismal light spilled across the heaving desert, faintly tracing the curve of sand hills. The area which light failed to penetrate was, in contrast, pitch dark.

Given the poor lighting condition, torches became necessities for either attacking or defending.

When glitters of fires emerged here and there in the oasis’ direction, Danny polished his clip, slipped it into the loading port and bolted.

“Attention, enemies are coming.”

“I saw them.”

He first mimicked Malt’s voice and then replied to himself.

In this way, he could pretend that Malt was still fighting beside him as his protector, although Malt was no longer a member of the sniper team.

Shortly after Danny had been released from his detention and sent back to the gun battalion, Brian had come to see him and brought him a brand new flintlock.

It was exactly the one he was holding right now.

Although the new flintlock did not look any different from the bolt gun used by the sniper team, he knew at once that it was a masterpiece after weighing it in the hand.

Like longswords that bore a similar looking, some of them were casually forged by blacksmiths just for training purposes; some of them, however, were splendid weapons, whose blade could bite into flesh as easily as cutting through cheese.

The metal part of the barrel gleamed, its surface as smooth as a maid’s skin. The joints were all polished like a work of art. The gun was perfectly molded without any prickly feelings.

What surprised Danny most was the monocular telescope on the top. The lens was engraved with two straight, crisscrossed fine lines, the intersection of which exactly aligned with the place where a bullet should land.

Danny did not understand why the distant target, which had been blurry and tiny earlier, became clear and visible instantly when he looked through the telescope. This meant that the shooting range of the gun had, in a way, been extended. During the testing shooting session, Danny had further verified his theory. He had noticed that the new flintlock was much more accurate than an ordinary bolt gun. When there was no or little wind, he could successfully hit the humanoid target 500 meters away with a headshot at an accuracy of 90%.

When he had learned that the weapon had been specially made for him by His Majesty, Danny had almost burst into tears. Despite his misconduct, he was still given high hopes by his Majesty and was even granted the power to freely choose his shooting positions. Danny knew he had nothing to pay back the king for his benevolence but his own life.

When Brian had asked him whether he wanted to select a protector, however, Danny had declined the offer immediately.

He had his own protector already.

It was this gun.

And Malt.

Like his commander had predicted, more firelights emerged and they covered the desert like fallen stars. Before every battle, the superiors would usually disclose the operation intention and operation target to each team in detail so that soldiers would know when they should expect to see the battle end.

For example, the cannon unit would lit bonfires at their rampart and fire every seven minutes or so to entice enemies to start counterattacks, for the purpose of bleeding off strength from the watchdog clan and thereby preparing for the general attack at dawn. The lit battlement would attract enemies’ attention, whereas controlling the firing rate was to avoid a fierce, swift bombard that tended to directly disperse the roving enemies.

Of course, Danny knew the artillery battalion did not have the capability to control their firing rate.

Soldiers from the artillery battalion had no idea how many resources were available for them. They were all arrogant, incompetent fighters who probably could not even transport basic equipment to the desert had the witch named Hummingbird not helped them. Compared with those useless idiots, soldiers from the gun battalion were much more productive. Each soldier in the gun battalion was responsible for carrying both weapons and ammunition.

There were a dozen carriages in total, over half of which carried cannon and machine gun shells. One wooden box was only able to house two howitzers. If they fought in the same way as they did during the exercise, two Longsong cannons would consume all the ammunition they took with them in an hour. If the ammunition was exhausted, they would have nothing to fire.

Although Danny admitted that the exercise was magnificent, he always thought tons of gold royals were burned each time they fired. Unfortunately, too ignorant and conceited to understand that all the expenses incurred were actually borne by His Majesty’s treasury, the soldiers from the artillery battalion simply viewed such remarkable power as their own. If one day His Majesty stopped financially supporting them, these soldiers would be absolutely nothing compared with the gun battalion!

Therefore, the real reason for controlling the firing rate was to reserve some ammunition for future emergencies, rather than avoid the dispersion of enemies. They probably had to wait for another one or two weeks before new recruits provided supplies and new ammunition to the oasis.

When the firelight at the very front was lured into the First Army’s ambush, Danny raised his telescope.

“Norther…ly wind, relatively strong. Your target is about 700 meters away.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Danny muttered to himself, his hand on the trigger.

Considering the accuracy would be greatly affected at night, he did not position himself too far away from the battlement. Instead, he decided to shoot across the field. In this way, he would not lose sight of his enemies even if they were charging forward on their warhorses.

Sand Nation was indeed barbarians good at fighting on horseback. The dispersed firelights had gradually formed a straight line by the time they charged. The patterings of hooves drummed the ground in a chorus and gradually grew faster. Meanwhile, those warriors tossed the torches and drew out their swords. As their swords reflected no light, the roaring battlement of the artillery became the most distinctive landmark Danny could see.

Just then, numerous flickers suddenly appeared at the two sandhills flanking in the shadow.

“Tuk, tuk, tuk…”

The sharp, crisp sound of machine guns mixed with the drumming horse hooves officially marked the commencement of the battle. As there was no field artillery, heavy machine guns became the weapons with the longest shooting range. Bullets streamed out and swept over the charging warriors. The desert instantly began to thunder. Danny could hear people shrieking, cursing and yelling. Shadows seemed to move even faster in the darkness.

Danny paid them no mind.

His eyes were fixed on the enemy at the very front.

“500 meters. I got you.”

It was not easy to locate his target at a moonless night. He could barely discern the figure of the charging enemy. However, the battle was not an exercise either. He did not have to shoot his head to score. A shot in any parts of the enemy’s body would be enough to take him down. This applied to both the mount and the rider.

Danny pulled the trigger. The barrel slightly trembled. He was exhilarated by the smoke of gunpowder.

Danny did not see where the bullet landed, nor did he notice any spilled blood. The enemy simply died with a quiver and fell off the horse.

“This is my hunting ground,” thought Danny. “This is where I should stay.”

“Did you just see that, Malt?”

“Don’t be distracted. Your next target is coming.”

“Ah, place the matter in my hand.”