Whoosh—
A terrifying tongue of fire shot seven or eight meters like an arrow. The target it struck and the surrounding grass burst into flames.
The heat dried out Michael's naturally curly hair, leaving it even more frizzled.
He released his grip. Fuel stopped spraying, leaving only a line of fire stretching from his feet to the blazing target.
"This is a Flamethrower. It can quickly set fire to anything, whether it's flammable or not."
Michael told Krian he thought it would suit the Hellfire Legion.
Krian thought so too. "What's its range? How long can it keep firing?"
"You saw the range. No more than ten meters, though raising the muzzle should extend it to twenty." Michael patted the wine barrel serving as its ammunition tank. "It can keep firing until the fuel runs out."
"Is the fuel wine?" Krian asked, catching the pungent smell of alcohol in the air.
"That's right. Rogers discovered that the stronger the wine, the better it burned, so he spent some time making this gun." Michael pointed to Rogers, who had been assisting him and now looked rather shy.
And "some time" was all it had taken. The Flamethrower was essentially a squirt gun, with only two runes inscribed on it: one sprayed alcohol continuously when the trigger was pulled, and the other ignited it at the muzzle.
The gun itself was just an iron pipe welded to a trigger. Crude was putting it kindly.
Krian wasn't optimistic. Its range was too short, but he still needed to test it.
New Rat Swarms had begun approaching from the north. The Ranger Legion used them for practice, tearing them apart with traps when their numbers grew too large, then picking them off one by one.
Krian took a barrel of "fuel" and carried the