Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"No survivors," Winters said.

Caman looked at Winters, smiled miserably, and his laughter grew from a chuckle to a loud blast, as if he had heard the funniest joke in history.

Old Schmid and Fuller suddenly felt a chill down their spines.

The laughter abruptly stopped, Caman stood up, and numbly walked towards Fuller and Old Schmid.

Fuller swallowed his saliva: "I won't say a thing."

But Caman, as if he hadn't heard, silently moved closer to Fuller.

Fuller wanted to beg for mercy, but his tongue wouldn't cooperate, overwhelmed with sorrow, he burst into tears.

Crying, Fuller suddenly felt a coldness on his leg, followed by a piercing pain.

Caman directly pulled the sword from Fuller's leg, carelessly wiped the blood on the wound, and then pressed on the wound, reciting in a low voice.

After the ritual, Caman moved towards Winters, examined his left hand, confirmed there was no damage to tendons or bones, then took out a bottle of Holy Water, rinsed it and began to chant softly.

Under the gaze of Fuller and Old Schmid, the wound on Winters' left hand slowly shrank until only a faint red mark remained.

Fuller couldn't help but touch the wound on his own leg—it still hurt a bit, but the wound had disappeared.

After sitting dazed for a few seconds, Fuller suddenly threw himself towards Caman, clutching at his clothes and frantically kissing them, repeating like a madman: "Saint, miracle, Lord..."

And Caman, like a corpse walking without sensation or breath, numbly accepted the worship.

Worried, Winters asked Caman, "Your injuries?"

Caman remained silent.

Winters pulled up Caman's sleeve, some wounds were still bleeding, while others had healed completely.

"A priest with self-healing abilities and superb martial skills," Winters thought, "truly a spellcaster's nemesis."

Lights and footsteps quickly approached their location by the lakeside pavilion—the reinforcements had arrived.

Soon, Winters saw Anna's anxious face.

"It's nothing," Winters smiled and reassured Anna: "Don't worry."

Anna bit her lip, trying hard not to show her panic and sadness, and kept nodding her head.

Winters immediately signaled two people: "Xial, go to the legion's camp outside the city and tell Colonel Berny what happened here and ask him to send people."

Xial, without a word, ran towards the stable.

"Koch!"

"Present."

"Go to the suburb, find Pierre, and have him bring everyone to come find me in the city."

"Yes!" Koch saluted and hurried toward the stable.

Two fast horses, one following the other, sped past the group and into the night.

Noises also came from the main building of the inn, indicating that the inn's messengers and guests had noticed the irregularities outside; it should not take long before someone would come to investigate.

"Send out the sentries," Winters ordered efficiently, "No one is allowed near, anyone who tries to forcefully enter should be killed on the spot. If asked, say it's by the order of Colonel Berny."

"Yes," the remaining few guards responded and dispersed.

Winters extended his hand to Anna: "Help me up."

Anna, using her frail shoulders, struggled to support Winters' arm and slowly helped him stand up.

"I'll help you back," Anna said sympathetically.

"No. You go back first, I still need to check the bodies," whispered Winters, standing with the aid of his cane, "The night is not over yet."

Before the sound of his voice faded, the fast retreating hoofbeats suddenly rushed back.

Koch burst through the night, rolled off his horse in front of Winters, and quickly came forward to report: "Your Excellency, chaos has erupted in the Old Town!"

"Chaos has erupted?" Winters frowned.

"It seems there are people gathering, looting, and smashing things."

Hearing this, Winters looked towards the Old Town separated by a long lakeshore.

The fierce wind brought faint cries and shouts, and on the edges of the distant houses, one could faintly see the scattered flickers of firelight.

The night is not over yet.