A Cannon Was a Cannon, After All

The deafening blast left Peter and the other two with their ears ringing. Luckily, all three were superhumans, their bodies tougher than ordinary people's. Otherwise, a sudden explosion at such close range would have injured them. Even so, they jumped and hurriedly looked toward the sound. A few meters away stood a cannon, blue runes flashing along its barrel and a cloud of black smoke still rising from its muzzle. Six Skeleton Soldiers around it briskly swabbed the bore, opened the breech, and loaded powder and shot. They were even more practiced than the kingdom's regular artillerymen! In less than twenty seconds, they had finished reloading. The gunner adjusted the angle and fired again.

Peter and the other two stared, dumbfounded. What was going on? Had they seen that right? Since when had Skeleton Soldiers kept up with the times and gained a new troop type?

Their shock was understandable. Since the Industrial Revolution had brought enchanted guns and cannons into being, Necromancers had begun to decline across the continent. Most undead creatures they summoned were weak Skeleton Soldiers and zombies, armed with rusty, brittle weapons and dressed in tattered armor. They looked frightening, but one shot would scatter them. Only a high-level Necromancer who could contract powerful undead creatures unafraid of firearms posed a greater threat.

Yet the Skeleton Soldiers Green had just shown them shattered that old notion. Armed with Enchanted Rifles and cannons, they overcame their fragility in close combat. Their mechanical precision reproduced the knights' drill procedures without the slightest deviation. They were more disciplined than even the finest Royal Guard Knights, bringing the astonishing power of their Enchanted Rifles and cannons to bear.

A second thunderous report jolted the three back to their senses. Black smoke billowed from the Undead Cannon's muzzle again, and they