The barracks are located south of Kataya Town, occupying the largest flat area in the entire region.
This place was originally the town's market square and camel pen for caravans. After the rebels arrived, they fenced off the square with wooden fences, set up dozens of military tents inside, converted the camel pen into temporary stables, and piled up ammunition boxes next to the feed troughs.
Roy lay on the roof of an abandoned blacksmith shop on the outskirts of the barracks. He had been observing for a quarter of an hour and had a rough idea of the barracks' defenses.
Inside the fence, there was a fixed sentry post every twenty paces, and the sentries were armed with knives and muskets.
The patrol teams, in pairs, patrolled along the passageways between the tents, with each team taking a different route.
Several men were squatting next to the stables. Judging from their armbands, they were sentries on their shifts, gambling together. The crisp sound of coins bouncing on the wooden planks could be heard across half the camp.
The most heavily guarded areas weren't these, but rather the few domed tents at the back of the camp.
The tent was made of much better materials than other tents, and the door curtain was printed with the rebels' rapier and sun symbol. There were dedicated sentries standing guard at the entrance at all times.
That was the officers' quarters, where security was even tighter. The guards at the gate stood ramrod straight, muskets in their hands, muzzles pointing downwards at a 45-degree angle, ready to fire at any moment.
Roy retreated from the roof to the back wall of the blacksmith's shop and silently climbed over the fence.
He landed in the shadow of the stables in the southwest corner of the camp, next to a hay wagon with its wheels removed.
Several sand horses in the stable were dozing off; their ears twitched briefly before turning back, seemingly oblivious.
Roy crouched behind the carriage and waited for a moment until the nearest patrol group had walked away before crouching down behind the first stationary sentry.
The sentry stood by the fence, with his back against it and his face towards the inside of the camp. This position was designed to prevent enemies from climbing over the fence, but once someone had already climbed over the fence, this position was tantamount to exposing his entire back to the enemy.
Roy covered his mouth from behind, slammed the hilt of the knife into the back of his head, and caught him as he collapsed, placing the knife in the shadow of the fence. The knife was kicked under the carriage and hidden away.
The second sentry stood outside the officers' quarter tent.
As Roy circled around the edge of the tent, the sentry was bending down to strike a match to light a cigarette. The instant the match head grazed the sandpaper, Roy had already closed in from the side, wrapped his arm around the sentry's neck, and pulled him back. The sentry collapsed to the ground before he could even exhale his smoke.
The third, the fourth, and the fifth.
His process of clearing the area around the tents was quiet and efficient, with each move carefully timed and done in concealed blind spots.
Some of the sentries he had taken down were stuffed under the wagons, some were leaned against the back of the tents, and some were disarmed and tied to the fence posts, their mouths stuffed with torn tent cloth so they couldn't make a sound.
Fixed sentry posts can be taken down one by one, but tower sentry posts cannot.
From its elevated position, the watchtower would scan the perimeter of the camp with a searchlight every short interval.
Just as he dragged the fifth sentry into the shadows, a beam of searchlight swept across the top of the carriage where he had just been hiding.
The rebels on the watchtower saw the man lying on the ground next to the wagon. It was the sentry they had first knocked down and dragged halfway, who hadn't yet managed to completely hide in the shadow of the fence. His military boots peeked out from the edge of the wagon, clearly visible in the searchlight.
The rebel on the watchtower reacted swiftly. Without issuing a warning first, he blew the whistle and shouted down towards the tower, "Wagon in the southwest corner! Someone has infiltrated!" At the same time, he raised his musket and fired a shot in Roy's direction.
The bullet struck the wooden planks of the hay cart, blasting a hole the size of a fist.
Roy dodged to the side, and the bullet almost grazed his ear, scattering wood chips all over him.
The rebels on the watchtower began reloading, and several other watchtowers nearby were also alerted. Several rebels carrying muskets pointed their guns at the carriage where he was hiding from different directions.
Footsteps echoed throughout the camp as patrols rushed towards the southwest corner from all directions, their footsteps on the sandy ground sounding as dense as drums.
Several tent flaps were lifted, and rebel soldiers wearing only vests rushed out, some clutching knives, others still loading gunpowder into their gun barrels.
Roy took another half step to the side of the carriage and peeked at the watchtower.
On the watchtower, the men with their muskets had already taken aim. The beams of their searchlights were locked onto the carriage, illuminating the wooden planks in a white light.
He took a deep breath and Hand Seals.
"Fire Release: Phoenix Flower Fire."
Several fist-sized fireballs spewed from his mouth, scattering into a dense net of fire in the air. Each fireball had its own independent trajectory, flying towards the watchtowers high above and the rebels below who were raising their guns.
Before the rebel on the watchtower could pull the trigger, the fireball struck his gun barrel. The intense heat instantly melted the iron pipe into a dark red color, and the ammunition exploded directly in the chamber, sending fragments of the shattered iron flying everywhere.
The searchlight was struck by a fireball, its cover shattering, and shards of glass rained down from the top of the watchtower. The rebel soldier on the watchtower screamed and jumped down, but before he could land, he was struck in the chest by other fireballs and lost consciousness before he hit the ground.
Before the other watchtowers could even fire at Roy, flames were already upon him.
Several fireballs struck the watchtower posts precisely in succession, igniting the wooden structure with intense heat. Within seconds, the watchtower burst into flames, and the rebel soldiers on top jumped down. Then, the fireballs that missed their targets grazed a tent at the rear of the camp, and the flames splashed onto the canvas, instantly burning several holes in the tent roof.
Roy's pupils contracted sharply the moment he saw the tent. Several wooden crates were pressed under the tent flap, and a very conspicuous warning sign was sprayed in red paint on the side of the crates.
That symbol is a common military marking. "Caution: Gunpowder, No Open Flames."
Gunpowder.
Before Roy could even register the impending doom, the first explosion rang out.
The embers of the Phoenix Flower Fire dripped from the hole in the tent roof, falling onto the edge of the wooden crate, and sparks splashed into the crate's seams.
The tent expanded in a fraction of a second, the canvas stretched into a spherical shape by the sudden burst of high-temperature gas inside, then the entire tent tore apart, a pillar of orange-red fire shot into the sky, followed by a deafening roar that shattered all the windows in the entire camp.
The blast wave uprooted the surrounding tents, and fragments of wooden crates and tent canvas were thrown high into the air amidst the flames.
In the nearby stables, the sand horses were so frightened that their front hooves left the ground and they neighed incessantly. Several of them broke through the hitching posts and ran wildly out, trampling over several rebel soldiers who were standing in the middle of the road.
The Kakkō illuminated the entire camp as if it were daytime, waking all the rebels still in their tents. Most of them rushed out barefoot, clutching knives or clothes, some not even having had time to put on their trousers.
When they rushed out of the tent, they saw flames still spreading in the center of the camp, and Roy standing next to the hay wagon, his mouth open and taking a deep breath, illuminated by the flames.
His cheeks puffed out.
Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation.
Flames surged from his mouth, unlike the scattered small fireballs of the previous Phoenix Flower Fire; this was a wall, a wall of flames tens of meters wide and several meters high.
Flames pushed forward along the ground, instantly turning tents into torches in their wake. Wooden fences shattered into sparks and fragments under the intense heat, and ammunition boxes exploded with deafening roars.
The air was filled with the acrid smell of fabric being burned to ash and the cracking sounds of wood twisting and deforming in the high temperature.
The flames reflected on Roy's face, clearly illuminating his face smeared with smoke from the explosion and the charred marks on the hem of his clothes.
He stood at the source of the flames, spat out the last embers from his mouth, and wiped the ash from his face with the back of his hand.
The barracks before him had turned into a sea of fire.
Dozens of tents were all ablaze, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning fabric and wood, and the muffled sounds of ammunition detonating under the intense heat could be heard from deep within the flames.
Some of the rebels who rushed out crashed into the flames and were instantly engulfed, while others were swept away by the edge of the Great Fire Annihilation, their clothes catching fire as they screamed and rolled on the ground. A small number of the lucky ones managed to escape the fire wall and were fleeing desperately towards the town center.
Roy took two steps back, avoiding a tent pole that had collapsed after being burned.
He looked down at himself; a corner of his shirt hem was scorched, and several holes were burned into his left sleeve by sparks. He wiped the ash from the knife on his trouser leg and looked around.
The barracks were gone; at least everything that could be burned had been burned to ashes, leaving only a charred ruin, with flames flickering lower and lower on the remains.
Several surviving sand horses had already run out of the camp through the breach in the fence at the stables, their hoofprints stretching northward toward the desert, the air thick with choking dust.
He turned and walked towards the town center.
The crossroads in the town center were in complete chaos.
The massive pillar of flames heading towards the barracks was more direct than any alarm bell, alerting almost the entire town's rebel forces.
Some people ran from the villa area, some from the market, and some even ran out of the barracks next to the command post. Everyone was looking in the direction of the barracks.
Someone was shouting that the gunpowder depot had exploded, someone else was shouting that the enemy was attacking, and then there were even more panicked shouts, mixed with commands, the neighing of horses, and the clanging of metal.
Roy walked through a narrow alley to the crossroads, picked a low house near the command post, stepped on the earthen wall, took three steps to climb onto the roof, and squatted on the ridge.
He glanced down and saw a rebel soldier who looked like a commander grabbing a messenger by the collar and yelling at him on the steps in front of the command post. The messenger's face was as white as paper in the Kakkō.
Several muskets had been set up behind the sandbag bunkers on both sides of the command post, and rebel soldiers were stuffing ammunition boxes behind the bunkers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure at the entrance of the alley to the east.
Mila emerged from the dark alley and looked up at the rooftops.
Roy grinned, pointed the tip of his knife at the still raging inferno to the south, and drew a line across his neck.
He looked down toward the west alley entrance. Barlow had arrived and was stuffing a document he had taken from a messenger into his pocket. Deep in the alley, a pair of military boots could be vaguely seen peeking out from behind a trash can.
He had almost no blood on him, and standing in the center of the chaos, his collar was still neatly pressed, allowing him to walk directly into the Chamber of Commerce meeting room.
Barlow walked out of the alley, Mila approached from across the street, and Roy jumped down from the rooftop, landing next to them.
The three men stood at the corner of the low building directly opposite the command post, the Kakkō casting long shadows behind them.
Barlow glanced at the rebels who were frantically piling up sandbags in front of the command post, then pulled his hand out of his pocket and placed it on the hilt of his knife.
"This is the only one left."