Chapter 822 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 822: The Fall of Xifan Both the captain and vice-captain of the Guard had perished in battle. Hunter, a man who was nearly retired, never imagined he would be thrust into leading the Guard under such dire circumstances. There was no choice. He had to step up. The entire port district held over ten thousand people, a third of whom were Villanteans. No matter what, these people couldn't be harmed! Even if he had to die, he would block the rioters outside! Staring at his guards, who were still in shock, Hunter gritted his teeth and shouted loudly. "Bring some boxes! Even if they're empty! Fill them with sand, stones, even rotten apples if you must; just block all the main roads! Move, now!" He then turned to the youngest member of the guard and yelled at him. "Newman! Go and send a telegram! Ask for reinforcements from Evernight Port! Tell them it's urgent and to send at least a thousand troops... no, make that ten thousand!" He wasn’t sure how many troops were stationed at Evernight Port, but the current situation was beyond what his limited men could handle. Rumor had it that there were enough munitions in the warehouse to arm an entire army of ten thousand. Once the rioters organized, the chaos could engulf all of Lion State! Newman nodded hurriedly and rushed toward the Guard Bureau. Under Hunter’s command, the guards swiftly mobilized, forming defense lines in groups of ten. It had to be said, the Villanteans were quite united when it mattered. Young, strong lads saw the guards were short-handed and joined in, helping move barricades to the street entrances. Roads leading into the port district from other parts of the city were quickly sealed, while civilians attempting to enter for refuge were driven away by Villantean guards firing shots into the air. As for those who tried to force through, Hunter had no hesitation, decisively ordering to shoot them down. At this point, distinguishing between civilians and rioters was impossible, as anyone might have a grenade or pistol hidden on them. Outnumbered, his men couldn't risk it. "Fire!" he shouted, pulling the trigger on his rifle. With the sound of gunfire, a few unfortunate ones fell dead, adding five more bodies to the street within moments. Seeing the Villanteans consumed by bloodlust, the civilians who had fled their homes for the port didn't dare head there anymore, instead turning to flee toward the city outskirts. Not all were so lucky; many were stopped shortly after. These people had bandanas tied around their arms, their fierce expressions clearly marking them as troublemakers. Gowinda instinctively wanted to turn and flee in another direction, but it was too late. One of them locked eyes with him and swiftly approached, shoving a rifle with a bayonet into his hands without a word. "The Villanteans kill our kin, bleed us dry, yet they dare to humiliate us. They must pay in blood!" Staring at the blood-stained rifle, Gowinda was petrified, stammering. "But... but I don’t know how..." The man ignored him, grinning as he explained. "It doesn't matter. This thing is easy to use. The veterans of the Gray Wolves say you just load the bullet, flip the safety, align the sights, and pull the trigger at those big-noses!" The guards were excellent marksmen; their bullets seemed to have eyes. Though they managed to kill a few, it always came at a high cost, potentially requiring many more lives. At times like this, cannon fodder was crucial. Even if these folks hit nothing, they would still deplete some of the port district's ammunition. Once they found a way to bring the 100-mm cannon over, all their problems would be solved. Gowinda, on the verge of tears, swallowed his plea for mercy, seeing the vicious expressions around him. Noticing his compliance, the man with the bandana sneered, shoving him forward. "Go on, show those Villanteans what for! Let them know a cornered rat will bite back!" "N-Now?" Gowinda stammered in panic. "What did you think? I gave you the gun for a crutch? Stop wasting time!" The man shoved him impatiently, pushing him forward. With leaden legs, Gowinda trudged toward the port, the distant gunfire sounding like a death knell. Nearby, another fellow, seemingly a Lion citizen, had also fled from the port. These madmen tried handing him a gun too, but when he stubbornly refused and cursed at them, they knocked him down with a rifle butt. Gowinda dared not look back, only hearing a gunshot followed by silence. He closed his eyes in anguish. Oh, Rat God above. He seldom prayed, but words of supplication spilled unbidden from his lips. Please, protect your children... Amid the intense street battles surrounding the port district, the usually bustling dock was in chaos. Screaming and shoving, people tried to break through the human barricades to reach the pier. The two available boats were already full to bursting, forced to pull away from the dock. Regardless, some would not give up, abandoning luggage to swim to the ships. Desperate to escape this chaotic port, people were resorting to any seafaring vessel. Even the small fishing boats moored by the dock were bought up by fleeing Villanteans and Lion nobility, forcing fishermen to set sail. Sadly, those small boats weren’t built for ocean crossing. One barely eight-meter fishing boat, crammed with over forty people, was capsized by a wave not far from shore! Gasps echoed from the shore as the wave swallowed the passengers. Brave young men dove in to rescue them, but barely half were saved. Watching the soaked survivors, those frantically fleeing grew slightly more rational, though their despair was undiminished, deepening even. The entire port was in madness. Most still didn't know what had happened. They had heard an explosion from the warehouse district, then saw black smoke. In panic, everyone rushed to fight the fire, yet the blaze only grew worse. A rotund Villantean merchant stood at the port, fuming toward the district. "Damn it... these incompetent fools! They can't handle this little problem! When Governor Huye returns, I'll write to him to fire the lot!" His rant quickly drowned in the cacophony of noise, as insignificant as a grain of rice in a silo. Facing the surging crowd at the harbor, Marguerite, holding her daughter’s hand, turned pale. There were no more boats. She suspected trouble at the port these days, but did not anticipate such swift and intense chaos! Frankly, she often felt the local native nobility’s exploitation of their kind was excessive. The Southern Legion controlled many colonies and often employed locals, yet she never heard of anyone surviving on a mere hundred or two dinars a month. How could they possibly live on that! Indeed, relentless greed had led to retribution. A single fire had turned simmering grievances into full-blown rebellion. Their darker-skinned maid, standing behind mother and daughter, was filled with worry. "Madam... the streets aren’t safe. Let’s go home." Hearing this, Marguerite forced a bitter smile. Is home even safe? Though the guards continued to fight, she wasn’t optimistic. First, they weren’t regular troops; secondly, they were too few, and poorly equipped. Failing to control the situation soon, they’d face a mob ten or even hundreds of times their number. Seeing her mother’s anxious face, Ruby gently tugged her hand. "Mom... weren't we supposed to visit Ansuya today?" Despite her own worry, Marguerite managed a soft smile to reassure her daughter, gently stroking her fluffy soft hair. "I was planning to take you tomorrow... but something came up." Ruby tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression. "Incident?" Marguerite gently nodded, speaking softly. "Yes, but don't worry... give Mama some time, and we'll figure it out." Understanding, Ruby nodded and remained silent, displaying mature composure. The maid, with a slightly darker complexion, looked at Marguerite, suggesting cautiously. "What if we ask Earl Sharma to send someone to fetch us? Given your husband’s connection with him, it might be worth the risk." Marguerite replied with concern. "But that would mean waiting until the middle of the night… I fear people here won’t hold out that long." The maid, worried, said. "But taking a boat is no longer an option. I think you should seek help from the locals." "That makes sense..." Marguerite took a deep breath, calming herself. "Let’s return home, send a telegram to Earl Sharma, and arrange a meeting place. If Xifan Port hasn’t fallen, we’ll meet at the Nightingale Street exit. If... if it has..." "The Silver Moon Church," the maid immediately suggested. "Pastor Melgio is a good man. I’ve gone there for prayers sometimes; he will definitely help us." Marguerite hesitated, anxiety still in her eyes, but eventually nodded. The Villanteans didn’t have a good reputation in the Silver Bay, largely because their Eastern Legion had once pushed the flames of war to the Petra Fortress of the Camelback Kingdom. However... Right now, they had no choice but to seek help from them. Xifan Port had a telephone system, but the only way to contact other settlements outside the city was through telegram. To avoid any delays, they hurried home, rushing to the telegraph machine. As Marguerite expected, Earl Sharma, upon learning of their plight, immediately sent his servants to Xifan Port, estimating their arrival by midnight. With the port district no longer freely accessible, they arranged a signal in their telegram exchange: waving a white flag. Marguerite would then rely on contacts within the Guard to ensure those meeting them at Nightingale Street’s entrance were let through... After seeing the reply on the telegraph, Marguerite let out a small sigh of relief, sinking into a chair. Unknowingly, her back was drenched in sweat. The maid handed her a towel, expressing sincere relief. "Finally saved..." Marguerite managed a wry smile. "...Hopefully." It was too soon to declare they were safe… … Night had only just fallen over the port. On the streets where the port district bordered other city areas, conflicts had escalated from initial skirmishes to full-blown clashes. Currently, over ten thousand were besieging the port district. Among them were dock workers, laborers from steel and cement factories, as well as from the cotton and sugar factories. There were also slaves swept up in the chaos, wounded and retired veterans of the Gray Wolves, and even some Lion citizens forced into joining out of desperation. Some had no choice, coerced by others wielding guns. Not participating in the "uprising" against the Villanteans marked them as collaborators, lackeys of the nobility—making them targets for justified robbery, looting, and violence. Others were opportunists, the ones pointing the guns, rallying a following of equally ruthless individuals, intimidating the hesitant, and declaring ambitions to found a "Lion Kingdom" in Lion State, similar to Larasia. Unlike Larasia, however, they had no clear goals or plans for after success, only aiming to rise on the tide of chaos. As for the majority, they willingly joined the aimless "uprising." Some were driven by unpaid wages, others by the humiliation from Villanteans, and some by envy of Villantean power and wealth. It mattered little who lit the initial spark; the flames of discontent had long burned in their hearts. The explosion at the port district was the catalyst, and Nagy's whip was no less. As word spread, people wrapped port-district-looted cotton around their arms as an emblem, agreeing whoever captured the governor's mansion and lowered the current flag would be king of the Lion Kingdom! Others would be commanders of ten thousand men! After sacrificing nearly a hundred expendable men, the "insurgents" began exploiting the Guard’s few numbers, adopting a fiercer attack. Simultaneously, the 100-mm cannon, effective in earlier warehouse district skirmishes, was carted onto the streets. However, Hunter wouldn't let the rioters succeed; seizing the opportunity, he decisively ordered a police armored vehicle hidden in an alley to charge forward. With the cannon not yet positioned, the 10-mm heavy machine gun on the vehicle’s roof chambered a round with a click and unleashed a storm of bullets on the rioters. The street reverberated with the savage sound of gunfire, leaving rows of fist-sized craters and even collapsing a mud wall! Many hiding behind the cannon were killed instantly, leaving behind only a heap of bloody remains. The gruesome sight intimidated numerous attackers. Particularly those armed with assault rifles, who recoiled in horror behind cover. "Hook the cannon to the vehicle and pull it back! Quick!" Hunter shouted over the radio, issuing the order from a distance. A guard quickly jumped from the vehicle, hurriedly hooking the cannon’s tail. His companions gathered the ammunition boxes and retreated to the vehicle. With the vehicle’s engine roaring again, the armored car dragged the 100-mm cannon at a breakneck speed toward the port district. A stray rocket flew in from afar but, fortunately, missed, demolishing a nearby house instead. Back in position, the armored vehicle parked, its disembarking guards wearing expressions still fraught with terror. One realized only after disembarking that he'd taken a shot to the calf, blood flowing freely. Hunter instructed nurses, called in from the port district, to bandage the wounds and saw the governor's secretary approaching. "What's the situation?" the secretary asked, his face a mask of anxiety. Hunter replied gravely. "It's tough; how long we hold out depends entirely on when they properly organize." The secretary’s breath hitched, his voice trembled. "How—how many do we have left…" Hunter pursed his lips. "Counting local guards summoned from other areas, we barely manage around 200." "How is it only this many?!" "Lucky it's this much; earlier we couldn’t gather even fifty…" At this, Hunter spat in frustration. "This place is undermanned! I don’t get why a city of a million has only a hundred-strong, unofficial Guard, while Evernight Port, a city of barely a hundred thousand, has a thousand-man force!" Does discussing it even matter now? The secretary grimaced but still explained. "We have our constraints… Kairos City’s troops are limited to His Majesty’s guards and the city garrison, unlike the Southern Legion." In essence, the civil administration lacked a standing force, and when problems arose, they could only scramble for help. Luckily, relations with the Southern Legion were favorable, and the Guard even had former members of the Southern Legion. Hunter cursed under his breath. "You better think of something… There are over 3,000 Villanteans here, including notable figures from Kairos City. If even one gets harmed, prepare for Kairos City’s wrath!" "I’m working on it…" The governor’s secretary wiped sweat from his brow, suddenly asking, "By the way, what about Nagy? Could he—" "Forget that idiot! Half—no, at least two-thirds of these people are after that fool!" Hunter retorted angrily, "If I catch him, I’ll skin him alive!" Reneging on agreed wages within a month was something he hadn’t anticipated. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would scrimp on two measly dinars from a bunch of short-lifers, a blunder even the feudal lords of the Eastern Legion wouldn’t make. Were their profits still not enough? Why don’t they ever learn?! Just then, a clerk from the Guard Bureau came rushing over, coming to a halt in front of Hunter, breathless and panting. "A reply from Evernight Port! Their troops have already set out; they urge us to hold on!" Hunter immediately pressed for more information. "When will they arrive?" The clerk swallowed hard. "They’re in the southern hemisphere... at the fastest, it will take them three days." Three days… The number sent Hunter’s spirits plummeting into the depths of despair. Here, lives were being counted by the hour; they couldn’t possibly hold out that long! At that exact moment, there was a deafening explosion from the street not far away. A scorching shockwave leveled several buildings, sweeping through with hurricane-like force, reaching a hundred meters away. The three instinctively ducked for cover, hot stones skimming dangerously close to their scalps. “Damn it! What’s going on?” Struggling to his feet, disheveled, the secretary turned toward the source of the explosion to find nothing but a grisly scene of mangled bodies. It seemed the rioters had somehow acquired a cargo truck, packed it with explosives and shells, then floored the accelerator straight into their fortifications. The police armored vehicle was flipped over in an instant. Even the 100-mm cannon they had just secured was blasted to the side of the road. Nearly all the dozen guards stationed behind the street’s fortifications were wiped out! Those who survived lay twitching on the ground... The civilians helping transport supplies were either dead or injured. Seeing the defensive line collapse in an instant, a shadow of complete despair crossed Hunter’s face. “Damn…” These lunatics! The armed rioters had underestimated the explosion’s power and were also left reeling by the shockwave. Nevertheless, their overwhelming numbers remained unshaken by a few casualties. With the port district’s defenses finally breached, their faltering morale surged, even the coerced pawns joined in excitedly. A man wielding an assault rifle strode to the front of the group, unleashing bullets wildly, then shouted back to his comrades. “Brothers! Charge! The Villanteans have left all their valuables at the port!” “They used to sneer at us; now it’s our turn to slap them hard!” “Whatever you grab is yours!” His cries were met with roars of approval, the street echoing with voices, eyes gleaming with the ferocity of wolves scenting prey. “Brothers, charge!” “Grab the money! Grab the people!” “Woohoo!” The surge of people crashed like a tidal wave toward the breach in the defenses, the remaining hundred or so guards dwarfed by the onslaught. Even their lone police armored vehicle was useless. The rioters had dug out rocket launchers from the warehouse. Against such armor-piercing weaponry, the armored vehicle’s steel was paper-thin. Explosive flashes lit up amidst the crowd’s gasps, desperation etched in the faces of those crushed against the harbor’s edge. While covering the governor’s secretary’s retreat, Hunter managed to kill three rioters before a bullet pierced his throat, leaving him glaring as he fell to the ground. Just like his captain and vice-captain… The Villanteans were born for battle, but they weren’t invincible mutants. Their physical capabilities might be above average, they matured slightly faster, and their fighting spirit was stronger… But they didn’t have "compensation," or draw on war commission resources. Strip all that away, they were like any other players—hit in the vitals, they died all the same. “I surrender!” Faced with the overwhelming tide of rioters, the governor’s secretary chose to surrender. It wasn’t just for himself but for the over three thousand Villantean residents of the port district, and indeed, the over ten thousand people living here. As gun barrels nearly touched his nose, he cleared his throat and spoke in a grave tone. “You’ve won; the port is yours now. But before you celebrate, I ask to speak with your leader.” Though he kept his demeanor humble, he didn’t truly regard the people before him. They were no better than wasteland marauders, with neither coherent goals nor clear demands. Once Evernight Port sent reinforcements, these rioters would be crushed against the walls in minutes. He had no doubt in his mind. After a moment’s wait, a man carrying a legion flag emerged from the crowd. A scar marred the man’s chin, likely from a bullet; surviving was sheer luck. His gaze, though seemingly casual, hid a wolfish menace, like a predator lying in wait. It was clear he’d seen battle. Perhaps even under MacLun’s command… “What do you want to discuss?” Facing the man, the secretary swallowed nervously. “…All the wealth here is yours, let us go.” The man chuckled, glancing around before returning his gaze to the secretary. “And today’s events will be forgotten?” The secretary was silent for a moment, then replied ambiguously. “…That can be negotiated.” Negotiate my foot! If he didn’t send this guy to the gallows, he’d write his own name backward! The civil service had no standing army, but that didn’t mean they were pushovers. They could buy mercenaries from the colonies to fight for them. Moreover, they could call in favors from the Southern Legion. The man smirked, clearly unconvinced, dismissively replying. “We negotiated again and again, but all we got was dismissals and sneers… Eight dinars turned six.” The secretary cursed Nagy inwardly once more. “We only just found out about this too… it’s unfair to blame us.” The man sneered. “Doesn’t matter; you’re all in it together. Even if you knew, what could you do? Stand with us?” The secretary met his eyes. “So… were you the one who started the fire?” “I wish it were me, but someone beat me to it,” the man shrugged, feigning regret. “It wasn’t lit by any one person — it’s the anger of Xifan Port’s residents, the anger of everyone except you.” “...Are you ready for the legion’s wrath?” the secretary’s voice took on a threatening edge, trying to force a concession. But the man remained indifferent, accepting a torch from a nearby comrade and setting a flag on his shoulder ablaze. It was one taken from the governor’s office. He had already used it to assert his “Lion King” status; it was now useless. Though a wolfman, leading a pride as a wolf wasn’t out of the question. Watching the flag burn, the secretary couldn’t hide his fury. The man tossed the flaming banner aside, grinning as he pressed a pistol against the secretary’s temple. “They sent me to fight the Alliance, Larasia, and finally left me here to rot. Trust me, I’ve heard more lies than anyone here, so I know exactly what you lot are about... nothing from your mouths is worth believing.” Negotiation was a road to nowhere, especially now. His only chance was to involve all of Lion State, spreading the fire from the warehouse district even further. Like all the way to Tiandu. Only by seizing Tiandu and becoming the ruler of the Borneo Province could he gain meaningful negotiating power with the legion. And he could always pivot to the Alliance if things went south. Sweat trickled down the secretary’s forehead as he stared at the man, glancing at the gun pressed to his temple. “So you’re not interested in negotiating…” The man chuckled. “I’m Janusz, a nobody until tonight, like most here… but I swear, from now on, my name will reverberate across the continent.” He didn't fire the gun, not even disengaging the safety. Instead, he gestured to a companion nearby. "Get this big-nose buried in red earth." After a pause, he added coldly, "Make sure he's buried alive." "Let him be reborn here in his next life, to taste the kind of suffering we've endured." The governor's secretary was dragged away, his arms held by two rioters. As he was pulled away, he glared at Janusz, shouting furiously. "You fool... do you even know what you're doing? You're digging your own grave!" Janusz ignored the doomed man’s outburst, instead looking behind him at his companions and then at the illuminated, crowded docks. A sinister smile crept onto his face as he raised his voice. "Enjoy your victory! Do whatever you wish, for it is your rightful reward!" "And those who have humiliated us shall pay for their stupidity." "They deserve it! Make them pay dearly!" "Yeah!!!" Roars of excitement erupted around him, eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. Thanks to General Alarion's scorched earth policy, he had tasted some despair at the borders of Mammoth State. The only regret was not having experienced the Villantean kind yet. As a race born for battle, they would surely be as untamable as wild stallions. He hoped they wouldn't disappoint him. To be continued...