Bang!
Pulling the trigger causes the firing pin to strike the primer and ignite the gunpowder. The resulting flames and gas flow expand rapidly within the barrel, propelling the bullet at speeds exceeding two thousand kilometers per hour.
Next, the copper warhead tore through the air, pierced the tent canvas, smashed the stacked wooden crates, and kicked up a cloud of dust against the earthen wall.
The only problem was that it failed to hit the target.
Even now, the bandits haven't seen the attackers' true faces, nor do they know how many enemies there are.
The tents, which were originally erected to protect against sandstorms, have now become excellent cover for the Blessed Warrior to conceal themselves.
They only saw a golden afterimage flash by through the gaps in the tent, followed by the horrifying sight of their companion being cleanly cleaved in two, gun and all.
The golden blade was sharper than anyone could imagine; neither the steel-forged gun barrel nor the protective armor plates could withstand its power.
"In the east! No, there are some in the west too!"
"Damn! How many intruders are there?!"
"Stop fucking firing randomly! You've hit one of our own!"
Screams and gasps mingled together, plunging the camp into complete chaos.
At that moment, in the very center of the camp, in the stone tower, Ohara's unusually large and imposing figure emerged from the gate.
Without a helmet to conceal it, it was a face with a gloomy expression and a thick beard.
Behind him, several trusted men and squad leaders rushed out in a panic—they were gathered together discussing the attack plan for the next day.
"What's going on? Is it another refugee disturbance?"
Ohara lifted one of his henchmen who had come to deliver the message into the air; he was now absolutely furious.
Last night, we were short-handed, so it was one thing for a few refugees to escape, but after killing a group to establish our authority, some people still dared to cause trouble.
Are those Dorok People really tired of living?
The bandit he was carrying turned pale. "Commander, he's not a refugee, he's a monster with a golden sword!"
Others chimed in, adding their own comments:
"Those guys were moving so fast we couldn't even see them!"
"All our men are dead!"
Beside Ohara, a tall, thin man with a goatee stepped forward and reprimanded him on his behalf:
"What's the panic? Don't lose your composure! What can be faster than the guns in your hands?"
He was Ohara's second-in-command and the strategist of the Insect Claw Expedition Group.
After finishing speaking, the man with the goatee quickly pulled an iron whistle from his pocket, brought it to his lips, and blew it loudly, the piercing whistle echoing throughout the camp.
Upon hearing the assembly whistle, the bandits, as if grasping at a lifeline, swarmed toward the central tower.
As the number of people on the perimeter decreased, the chaotic scene was temporarily brought under control.
The bandits set up their rifles using the firing ports and the low wall outside the tower, vigilantly scanning the shadows between the surrounding tents.
With their superior numbers, the cover they had, and the guns they held tightly in their hands, these desperate criminals finally regained some confidence.
But soon, someone noticed something was wrong.
"Wait... aren't there too few people?"
Someone whispered something.
The group exchanged glances, a chill creeping into their hearts.
Even excluding the patrol team, their group still numbered over sixty.
But now, fewer than thirty people have gathered together.
In less than ten minutes of fighting, more than half of their men were lost!
Seeing this, Ohara, on the second floor of the tower, pulled out a large pistol and fired several shots into the air, venting his anger and suppressing the surrounding commotion.
"Who's playing tricks here?" His voice echoed from the tower. "Dare to come out and fight me fair and square!"
A brief silence fell over the camp.
His challenge quickly received a response.
The bandits, huddled together, heard faint footsteps coming from all directions.
The footsteps were so light, moving quickly between the tents, that it was impossible to pinpoint their exact location.
What made them even more uneasy was that the footsteps weren't coming from just one place; they were coming from every direction.
They were surrounded.
Finally, a figure that wasn't particularly tall slowly emerged from behind the tattered tent directly in front of them.
The moonlight shone down, illuminating the faces of the visitors.
He was a young man dressed in a brown leather jacket, a style commonly seen in the countries of the Sea of Corruption. He was slightly short and even had a youthful look on his face.
He held a Ceramic Steel longsword that gleamed with golden light and stopped thirty paces away from the bandits.
"The leader of ' Insect Claw,' Ohara, is it?" Por raised the Order's Blade, the tip pointing upwards at Ohara. "Your duel, I accept..."
Bang!
Before Por could finish speaking, Ohara's oversized, large-caliber pistol, which looked like a hand cannon to an ordinary person, had already fired.
In slow motion, a warhead loaded with special high-explosive fuel flies diagonally downwards at supersonic speed, heading straight for Por's face.
In a split second, the bullet could penetrate his mask, skin, and skull, exiting with a red and white substance—this type of bullet was originally designed to deal with lightly armored targets, and would only over-penetrate when hitting a human body.
However, just as he fired, Por suddenly made a gesture of crossing his hands over his forehead with his palms facing outwards.
boom--!!!
A blazing fireball, over two meters in diameter, exploded in mid-air, sending waves of heat and dust sweeping outwards, illuminating the area around the tower.
Ohara scoffed. "Someone actually believes in this 'duel'?"
That's ridiculous.
The other bandits cheered upon seeing this.
It seems that even those "golden devils" are no match for guns.
But the cheer caught in his throat the next second.
The fireball dissipated rapidly at an abnormal speed, Por reappeared before everyone.
Centered on his left hand raised to his forehead, a semi-transparent golden halo continuously rippled and spread, completely engulfing the burning fireball.
Aside from making him take a few steps back, the attack had no effect whatsoever.
"Wow," Por casually brushed non-existent dust off his shoulder, "Quite the enthusiastic greeting."
The camp fell into a deathly silence.
Ohara's face was so dark it seemed to drip water.
"That's a high-explosive shell that can penetrate steel plates," even his gruff voice couldn't hide the astonishment in it. "What trick did you play?"
The golden halo gradually receded, transforming into a layer of soft light that covered Por's entire body.
"Nothing is impossible before the power of Lord Erdtree," he stepped forward, "This is the strongest shield in the world."
The Shield of Immutability, yet another variation of the Golden Order Mu En Incantations.
It also possesses the combat skill " Endure " and the Incantations ability " Immutable Shield," creating a shield that can dispel elemental attacks and block physical damage.
Similar to the Order's Blade, the Shield of Immutability can either appear directly as a shield or be attached to armor to increase defense and reduce energy consumption.
It can protect the user from any external harm before the energy is depleted.
As the saying goes, the strongest shield!
"Surrender now, and I'll consider letting you die a quick death, how about it?"
Letting these people go is, of course, impossible.
Princess Nausicaä said that, apart from a few who would be left alive for questioning, all the other bandits would be killed.
"Nonsense."
Ohara's forehead veins bulged; what he couldn't stand most was someone playing tricks on him.
"Open fire! Turn him into a sieve!"
"Stubborn to the end—attack!"
Nine golden, Blessed Warrior burst through the tent and appeared, while the sand bandits unleashed a real Storm of metal from their Storm Rifle.
The final battle erupts instantly!