Reinforcements, reinforcements, reinforcements.
Easy enough to say.
Easy enough for the people signing the orders, too.
And just like that, the reserves were sent forward.
Another wave of dark, densely packed figures.
But after only a brief pause, the machine guns began firing again without stopping.
They could only take cover in the trenches constructed by the few conscientious mages.
Then they advanced along the trenches.
Honestly, Joel didn't want to charge, so he became a trench digger.
At the same time, he picked up a Dwarf's gun and used it to fire.
Fire once, then quickly dig the trench, then fire again.
That was how he proved he was still fighting.
The people up top were a bunch of lunatics, a bunch of executioners.
The thought suddenly came to Joel.
Utterly rotten.
Old men with fossilized ideas.
Letting them occupy positions of power was a complete disaster.
Every one of the enemy's bullets was immensely powerful, on par with the piercing magic cast by a fifth-tier mage.
Or like the terrifying crossbows made by Elves, or their terrifying longbows.
Those bullets could pierce ordinary armor, and so could their shrapnel.
If Joel hadn't been wearing magic-rune plate armor, those damn fragments would have pierced his body long ago.
The reason knights had a good reputation
was their code of chivalry, and the fact that most knights found it difficult to rise above the grassroots.
They were like a village chief.
It took an entire village to support a single knight.
Besides, low-ranking knights were basically officers—the lowest-ranking officers.
In other words, they hadn't left the common people behind.
They could see the lower, middle, and upper classes clearly.
They also understood better how ordinary soldiers fought, and what the real role of those soldiers was.
Frontline soldiers were supposed