When Anderson gripped the machine gun handle, it felt like he was holding a fishing rod; each shell fired was a hook, and the trailing wake was a fishing line invisible in the sunlight.
The muscles in his face contorted, as if he had hooked a great white shark while deep-sea fishing. That great white shark had just killed his lover, and now he wanted to break its teeth, smash its belly, and make it pay for its blood debt.
The hatred of losing his lover and the excitement of catching a big fish intertwined, driving him mad. He seemed to see dark red blood rolling in the waves, shredded fish flesh, and the snow-white belly of a dead fish.
I've never had such an exhilarating fishing trip before!
"Ah, faster! Faster, Boris! Make the bullets go faster! I'm going to smash these sons of bitches!" Anderson yelled at Boris was manually faking the shells and turning the ammunition belt for him.
"You think I'm an electric motor?!" Boris cursed. "Either you fire the bombs, or I'll shoot!"
"I'll do it!"
Anderson gave up his position to rotate the ammunition belt, allowing Boris to take control of the firing.
Da da, da da da da da...
The shell delivery speed was indeed a little faster than before.
"You damn well better aim!" Petru yelled, holding the Soul of Fire in one hand and binoculars in the other. "We don't have many shells!"
"Don't worry, that's enough to turn these bastards into mush! Hahaha..." Boris laughed maniacally, his eyes wide like saucers, his body and facial muscles twitching rhythmically.
A 30mm shell hitting a person can break them in half at the waist, not to mention the M789 high-explosive round also has explosive power, with a kill radius of over 5 meters.
Through the telescope, Petru could clearly see the horrific scene of the Itza People before the altar. And because the Soul of Fire could draw upon the island's Mental Power, he could even use his mind to track the trajectory of the cannonballs, just as he had tracked bullets on Tubuai Island. Unfortunately, he couldn't control the cannonballs; otherwise, he could have struck the enemy with even greater precision.
The Itza People had no idea what was happening. They only heard a rattling sound, and then something unseen came with a sharp whistling sound. Immediately afterward, their companions fell one by one, and plumes of smoke rose from the ground.
A Huracan People nervously took his bow from his back, nocked a wooden arrow, and aimed it at the void from which the sound came, shouting "Devil!" in their language. However, before he could release the arrow, he felt something slam into his chest, but he wasn't thrown back; he remained standing upright. He looked down and saw a large hole in his chest, big enough for a person's head to fit through; his heart and lungs had vanished into thin air.
A loud bang came from behind him. He tried to turn around to see what had shattered his chest, but he couldn't move. He saw a companion to his left, looking at him with horrified eyes.
The man was crouching, holding a long spear. From that angle and height, the hole in his chest was clearly visible. Then, the hand holding the spear suddenly severed from his body, a cloud of blood rose, and the severed arm flew diagonally, passing right through the large hole in his chest.
He was lucky; after his chest was blown open, his brain hadn't died yet, allowing him to finally see how the "devil" killed people before he died, although he still couldn't see what the "devil" looked like. Perhaps the devil doesn't even have a face.
But he was also unfortunate. Compared to his brother, whose head was blown open, his death was relatively less pleasant, forcing him to witness the gruesome deaths of his clansmen in his final moments and endure unimaginable pain.
In the moment he fell, he wanted to question their god: why had he abandoned his people? The devout Itza People, who had guarded Ramla for thousands of years, were finally going to be destroyed by the devil.
However, he could no longer make a sound. He only saw three Sun in the sky, as if mocking his foolish death. Finally, as he fell, he broke in two, and the arrow on the fully drawn bowstring finally shot out crookedly, heading towards the sky.
Although the ammunition was manually fed, the M230 autocannon still fired at a very high rate. By the time the Crow arrived, they had almost run out of 500 rounds. The frenzied Boris and Anderson, their faces contorted with rage, fired the last few rounds before finally stopping, satisfied.
They abandoned their machine guns, which were now out of ammunition, and went down the mountain to rejoin the others.
When Qingmu arrived at the plaza in front of the altar, he witnessed a horrific scene:
Limbs and torsos were everywhere, blood stained the ground red, and chunks of flesh, indistinct and hard to identify, were scattered about, leaving no place to step.
Of the more than a thousand Itza People, less than one-tenth survived. Most of them were missing limbs and had lost their fighting ability. They lay among the dead, their expressions blank, their eyes staring vacantly at the sky. If you didn't look closely, they were not much different from the dead.
This one-sided massacre, spanning an entire era of civilization, plunged the Itza People into utter despair. The invisible bullets and terrifying lethality convinced them that evil had descended upon the world and that God had abandoned them.
The priests rushed frantically into the pile of corpses, searching here and there.
Kubota knelt down and wept bitterly, holding half of the Itza People's head in his arms. The head was missing half of its head, which was tilted to one side, and the remaining eye was still open, filled with terror and helplessness.
Batus lay prostrate on the ground, clutching scattered entrails in his hands, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Bigwendi roared to the sky, raising his arms to the heavens, and cried out and questioned their god in Itza language.
Even the executioners who had just carried out the massacre were horrified by the sight. Anderson, Boris, and Petru stood frozen at the edge of the slaughterhouse, hardly believing what they had just done. Especially when they saw that Mrs. Larry and Alice were still alive, these men who had experienced war and killing nearly collapsed.
The three Itza priests turned around and looked at the people who had just been negotiating and describing to them the wonderful life in the distant, legendary world of Unabu.
Their faces were filled with confusion, regret, and anger...
How accurate God's prophecy is! These are not human, but demons! Demons impersonating God's messengers stole the Sacred Staff and then feigned negotiations to gain their trust, all to lower their guard.
The priests slowly rose, their facial muscles contorted with rage, as if serpents were crawling all over them. Their eyes blazed with hatred, a fury that seemed to burn everything to ashes. Strange, hoarse roars escaped their throats, like horns waking a sleeping dragon.
The surviving Itza People, who had been in despair, were awakened by the sound of the horn and stood up. Even those who had lost hands or legs, as long as they were still alive, stood up.
Supporting each other, they slowly moved towards the priests, forming a group of about a hundred wounded and disabled people. Their eyes blazed with the same fury as the priests', their faces were twisted into devilish shapes, and their spirits and wills were slowly uniting, finally coalescing into a formation at the last moment.
A tremendous Mental Power emanated from them, accompanied by a pervasive stench of blood, sweeping over the area!