Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The pointer inside the drum-shaped silver box jumped again.

"It's time." The Hawk Captain abruptly snapped the box shut and mounted his horse: "The rebel cavalry has been lured away. Fifteen minutes is enough for us to act."

A single-horse carriage was pushed out of the woods and onto the road.

Several Hawk Guards deftly harnessed the horse to the carriage, while others, under the deputy leader's command, dragged felled trees across the road to block it.

The harnessed carriage rattled down the valley road, winding past the last dips of the terrain. After rounding a curve, the high walls of the legion's base and the west camp gate came into view.

...

[Interrogation Room]

"Do you recognize this?"

Winters placed a drum-shaped silver box in front of the prisoner.

Opening the lid, the dial embedded with luminescent stones and golden hands emitted a dim green light—it was the Nulan Clock Pierre had seized from the captive.

Alonso nodded slightly, stealing an almost imperceptible glance at the time, but he couldn't be sure whether the false Baron had adjusted the Nulan Clock.

"Don't overthink it. I haven't touched the hands." Winters casually shattered the prisoner's assumption, then turned and retrieved another drum-shaped silver box from the drawer—a Nulan Clock taken from the masked man at the Este estate—placing it before the captive. "Do you recognize this?"

In the first few seconds, Alonso didn't understand what was happening, as if struck by a blow to the head.

His immediate reaction was a kind of drunken stupor and sluggishness. Quickly, however, he regained clarity. Though his expression remained unchanged, his lips turned pale.

Winters observed Alonso, leaning in to take a few whiffs as if savoring the prisoner's fear.

Then, turning once more to meet the captive's now-unconcealable panicked gaze, he produced a third Nulan Clock.

This time, he said nothing. He merely opened the clasps adorned with mandrake flowers and bay branches and gently placed it in front of the prisoner.

"Click."

"Click."

"Click."

The internal mechanisms of the three Nulan Clocks emitted synchronized ratcheting sounds, with the three gold hands embedded with luminescent stones pointing neatly to the same position.

Three clocks? Three clocks! How does he have the clocks? How did they end up in his hands? Were the other two teams completely wiped out? Is the envoy's clock among these? The envoy—the envoy—what happened to him? Was the envoy captured too?

A flood of horrifying thoughts surged into Alonso's mind, as if an invisible pair of hands had clenched around his throat, cutting off his breath.

For the first time, he displayed genuine fear—not the earlier feigned expressions but raw, unadulterated terror. His heart pounded uncontrollably, and the veins on the sides of his forehead pulsed visibly. Sweat soaked his back, yet his chest felt so cold it might exhale frost.

Winters leaned in, his face close to the prisoner's, ensuring his voice was piercingly clear in the other's ears.

With a trace of satisfaction, he spoke softly, "I've dragged you all out from the shadows."

The instant he finished speaking, Alonso's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

He whimpered, screamed, desperately struggling against his bonds. This time, there was no composure, no confidence—only the primal instinct of a cornered animal facing an unrelenting predator.

...

[Legion Base]

Due to the chaos and fire in Steel Fort, the stationed officers had added an extra checkpoint outside the base gate.

The so-called checkpoint was nothing more than a debarked tree blocking the road.

Four militiamen stood guard at the checkpoint. Spotting the approaching carriage from afar, one waved a spear, signaling the driver to stop.

"What's your business?" the lead militiaman demanded.

The carriage driver replied leisurely, "Delivering supplies—pork and horse meat."

"Haven't heard of anyone sending meat this way." The lead militiaman frowned. "Get down. We need to check."

"I don't have money to bribe you right now," the driver said, his tone calm. "It's not easy making a trip out of town. Once I deliver the goods to the quartermaster, I'll have money on my way back."

The lead militiaman cautiously took a step back, lowering his halberd. "Get off the carriage!"

Two other militiamen holding matchlock guns sensed something amiss and quickly untied the fuses wrapped around their wrists.

"Alright, alright." The driver raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm getting off."

As the driver shifted his weight and shielded his movements with his body, he pulled a short gun from beneath the seat and, without hesitation, fired at the lead militiaman wielding the halberd.

The wheel-lock spun, a flash of fire burst forth, and a bloody hole appeared in the chest of the halberd-wielding militiaman.

Another swordsman leaped out from under the canvas, his Swift Sword tracing an unnatural trajectory beneath the halberd, piercing the chest of the other halberd-bearing militiaman with a grotesque twist.

By this point, the two militiamen armed with matchlock guns hadn't even loaded their fuses. Seeing the black-clad swordsman's murderous intent, the two discarded their firearms and fled in panic.

The swordsman didn't pursue. Instead, he single-handedly removed the blockade from the road.

The gunshots had already alarmed the guards at the fortress, and the warning bells blared furiously.

The driver, a Hawk Guard, lit a fuse, then violently flicked the reins, urging the horse into a mad gallop. Ten meters short of the gate, the Hawk Guard stabbed the horse's rear with a sword and leaped from the carriage.

The wounded horse, though pained, instinctively tried to veer away from the wall in front of it.

It was at that moment the fuse burned to its end.

The horse's hindquarters were blown apart, the blast wave overturning nearby guards and rattling the fortress gate.

As the guards atop the walls called desperately for reinforcements, a cavalry unit burst through the smoke, scattering the outer guards and charging straight for the west gate.

Soon after, there was another massive explosion.

This time, the west gate of the legion base was torn apart like a piece of paper.