Chapter 992 - 215: Fight to the End

Chapter 992: Chapter 215: Fight to the End

"Leon, we can’t hold on much longer."

The one referred to as Leon was a man of average stature, his full name was Lev Bronstein, "Leon" being a French variant of "Lev", just like how "Enrique" and "Henry" correlate in Romance languages and French.

"If you can’t hold, then fall back. These Cossack artillerymen are too accurate. Lure them inside the factory to fight!"

He wore an old military coat, had a thick and dense mustache on his upper lip, a goatee on his lower lip, and pince-nez glasses, a typical image of a Jewish intellectual.

It was hard to imagine he was the leader of the Putilov Factory uprising.

Artillery roles are technical; a good artilleryman either comes from the Artillery Academy or has honed their skills on the battlefield.

In peacetime, an artillery company might only have one live-fire exercise a year, but once the war started, they were immediately battered by the heavy guns of Debang and the Knight Order.

So, these Cossack artillerymen were of typical skills; the effect they achieved was partly because they were professionals, and partly due to the high precision of their small-caliber cavalry guns for close-range shots.

The rebel couldn’t help but ask, "But what about that blue-robed guy? He has a Magic Shield, and Aleksey shot him three times without effect."

"Not even the Anti-Magic Bullets worked?"

Leon raised an eyebrow. Aleksey was a friend he made during his exile in Siberia, who later fled to France with him and became a Magic Energy Gunsmith, and he was one of the best marksmen in the uprising.

"No effect! Aleksey said that guy’s not all that skilled, but he’s carrying some very powerful Magic Artifacts."

"Bronstein! I’m back!"

Leon turned to see Ivan, who had been sent to contact allied forces, returning with a little girl: "Who is she? Don’t you know how dangerous it is here?"

Ivan quickly explained: "No, Bronstein, this little girl was sent by Lady Natasha — her name is Anna, Lady Natasha said she could help us achieve victory."

"Lady Natasha?"

Leon composed himself, carefully looking over the little girl in patched, worn cotton clothes and ill-fitting old boots, nothing about her suggested she could turn the tide of the battle.

But since Lady Natasha had said it, there must be some reason.

Anna’s expression was calm. In the past, her most likely reaction would have been to curl up and tremble.

"Anna, how can you help us?"

"I don’t know either."

Anna shook her head and then added, "But I can try."

She had gained many new abilities, seemingly ingrained in her bloodline, innate powers.

...

The Don River Cossacks charged into the factory, exchanging fire with the rebels.

The Cossacks, long accustomed to nomadic life, fishing, hunting, and their duties of guarding and expanding the borders, had developed excellent combat skills. Many began learning to shoot and hunt alongside their fathers from the age of ten.

Even though the rebel forces, having occupied the factory, included many retired veterans and were defending from cover, they were quickly pushed back by the Cossacks.

Rat-a-tat-tat—

A machine gun position hidden behind armor plates, with just a shooting aperture exposed, opened fire.

The dense hail of bullets soon suppressed the Cossacks’ advance, but then, the blue-robed one acted again, waving his Magic Staff to summon fireballs.

The fireballs merged above his head, quickly morphing into a long snake of flames flying towards the machine gun position.

With a roar.

The flames engulfed the entire upper floor of enemies in the factory.

The blue-robed man, full of excitement, exclaimed, "Did you see that? This is the Flame Burst Technique taught by Lord Rasputin, you lowly commoners, repent for your sins in the flames."

"Tsk, this guy indeed has some skills."

The quartermaster cocked the gun, ejecting a yellow bullet casing: "But that smug attitude is really unbearable."

"Aren’t the Casters always like this?"

Tenishev chuckled, "As long as he serves a purpose, who cares if he has eyes on his forehead."

It was as if participating in battle for the first time, the successful outcome greatly boosted his confidence.

Boldly, the blue-robed one even stepped out of cover, not caring at all about the bullets fired by the rebels, waving his Magic Staff and laughing, "Save it, this is a treasure given to me by Lord Rasputin, you lowly commoners can’t even imagine its power!"

Bullets that were about to hit the blue-robed man suddenly suspended in mid-air, unable to advance any further.

Truly, his actions seemed reckless, but the pressure exerted on the rebels was undeniable.

An enemy who couldn’t be killed, couldn’t be hit, yet could mercilessly strike with impunity was utterly terrifying.

"I told you only a Caster could fight a Caster, we’re doomed."

"Bronstein, cover me!"

Some wailed in despair while others grabbed a White Crystal Grenade and boldly charged forward in a single bound.

He seemed to have practiced basic breathing techniques; the heavier White Crystal Grenade flew from his hand like a bird, crossing over a hundred meters and landing next to the blue-robed one.

Boom—

The flames engulfed the silhouette of the blue-robed man.

But the next moment, accompanied by the blue-robed man’s rampant laughter, a fireball struck the grenadier, burning him to ashes.

"Oh my god."

"What should we do?"

"With such terrible power in the hands of the Tsar, do we really have any chance of success?"

On the rebel side, morale had hit rock bottom.

Bronstein shouted sternly, "Comrades, listen, every inch of where we stand now is soaked with our blood and sweat. We may fail, but resistance will not cease because of our failure."

"Think about why we took up arms, so that we’d never again be whipped in factories, so our children could eat warm bread, so the brothers frozen to death in the trenches wouldn’t die in vain!"

"Whoever wants to be a deserter can leave, no one’s stopping you. But remember: if you dodge the bullets today, tomorrow your sons will still tremble under the same shackles!"

No one left.

Someone muttered softly, "But what’s the point, compared to our enemies, we are so weak."

Bronstein removed his hat, throwing it to the ground: "Even if we fall here today, tomorrow ten thousand workers and ten thousand farmers will rise, advancing over our bloodstains! This is why we fight on! Sooner or later, these carnivores will understand, the lives of laborers are not to be stamped upon, the power of laborers is not insignificant!"