Gwen gripped her longsword, shook the blood from its blade, and panted heavily.
She raised her head, straining to make out the direction Isaac was in.
The Gatling Gun had yet to fire.
Heavy machine-gun ammunition was extremely precious. They could scarcely obtain supplies here, and once it was all used up, that Gatling Gun would become nothing more than scrap metal. Isaac had not brought many rounds himself, so they had to use them at the most critical moment.
Before the battle, Isaac had made an agreement with her: if Dragonfang's main force arrived, or if the Resistance Army was utterly crushed and the situation reached the point where they had no choice but to intervene, Isaac would open fire.
Now that the gunfire had not sounded, it meant the situation was not that dire yet.
Gwen shook her head, flinging away the mud mixed with blood and sweat, then forced her eyes wide as she stared at the enemy before her.
Her vision kept going dark. She felt she had already reached her limit, that she would die if she fought for even one more second—yet she had been feeling that way for half an hour.
Enduring her exhaustion, she dragged her gradually stiffening body across the battlefield and gritted her teeth as she held on.
The heavy machine gun had not fired yet. That meant she could still hold on.
Gwen looked up at the enemies before her.
These cavalrymen wore light armor and had firearms hanging at their waists. At that moment, they were locked in close combat with the Resistance Army.
Gwen had assumed these cavalrymen would be like Bazel's pistol cavalry, using their mobility to circle around them, but that was not the case.
They merely fired a shot from afar, then charged in