Chapter 112: The Mourning Banshee
The dimensional bullets fired by the ratmen hit George’s blood-stained super gothic plate armor, shattering and scattering into green sparks, leaving several dents, and creating more holes in the bloody banner of the Holy Hall he carried on his back.
Though it didn’t inflict visible damage on George, the red-armored ratman warlord narrowed his eyes and noticed a crack in George’s leg armor due to metal fatigue, difficult to discern amidst the bloodstains.
“Come on! Who dies first!”
George pointed his massive golden sword with both hands and charged at the rat ogres approaching him.
The red-armored ratman warlord remained cautious. He patted the rat ogre beneath him, and the latter, understanding, stepped back. His deputy mounted on a rat ogre was the first to pounce on George.
Taking a deep breath, George collided head-on, crashing into the rat ogre’s embrace. One sword plunged deeply into the rat ogre’s heart, but he felt the impact painfully as his armor shook, his insides jolted, and he was pushed back as the rat ogre pressed down on him.
George braced his feet firmly, and before he could pull out his sword, he noticed the red-armored ratman warlord attacking from behind. He turned, yanked out his golden sword, which shone like the sun, and attempted to deliver a divine slash meant to kill the red-armored ratman outright.
The warlord immediately restrained his strength, blocking the divine slash, which merely emitted sparks against his armor. He remarked, “Gotcha, brave one, muscle head!”
Before his words fell, the warlord’s mount, the immensely powerful rat ogre, charged in, knocking over the dead rat ogre and tightly embracing George. With incredible strength, George pushed against the rat ogre’s chest.
However, the “muscle head” had already grabbed him, executing a bear hug that hurled him off the stone bridge onto the platform in front of the fort. With all its might, the rat ogre threw George down.
George hit the ground hard, the various parts of his armor clanging together, producing a deafening metallic crash as he skidded several meters across the ground. If he were a weaker transcendent, he might have been dazed or injured. But George forcibly reminded himself that there was no one guarding the bridge, and the ratmen would undoubtedly pursue the rest of the squad, so he stood up immediately.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his head and saw the rat ogres climbing onto the bridge, chasing after the remaining team members. Eve Frostleaf had not escaped; she charged toward him as several rat ogres ensnared her.
“It’s too late.” The red-armored ratman warlord commanded his men to form a semicircle around George. “This place is spacious enough for a group beatdown… One, two, three, together!”
Seven rat ogres charged toward George.
They coordinated flawlessly, taking turns and not giving George the chance to grab or kill one of them. If George launched a fierce attack on one ratman, that ratman would immediately retreat, while the others pressed their full assault, detaining George.
In the midst of the chaotic battle, the red-armored ratman warlord seized an opportunity and struck viciously at the gap in George’s thigh armor. The gap became a notch and then a gaping hole under continuous attacks, and George suffered a heavy blow to his thigh that severed a blood vessel.
The banner of the Holy Hall stained with blood collapsed among the rat ogres.
“George!”
Eve Frostleaf finally spoke, disregarding the obstructing rat ogres, with a determination to die. She transformed into a gust of wind and rushed over. The mounted ratmen intentionally did not hinder her; two deaths were better than one. They found an opportunity and struck Eve Frostleaf, who had a waist like willow, with a fierce blow, causing her to bleed.
Without Eve Frostleaf’s obstruction, two ratmen on rat ogres ran across the stone bridge, pursuing the rest of the team.
The butcher, the dwarf engineer, turned around and fired his flintlock pistol at the rat ogres. Flames erupted from the gun’s mouth, leaving only several trivial wounds on the rat ogre’s furry arm.
“Damn! Missed the head!”
Before he finished speaking.
Uninterrupted, a group of ratmen raised their guns and opened fire. Another round of shooting, with dozens of bullets striking a dwarf warrior beside him, piercing through his heavy armor. The dwarf warrior fell and was swatted off the stone bridge by a rat ogre, with a long scream echoing from below.
“By Gronny’s beard!”
The butcher, Kroic, voiced with strong conviction. At this moment, Felix, who was running beside him, collapsed from exhaustion, and Kroic stopped to help him up.
Felix gasped, his throat hoarse. “Thank… thank you.”
“No need to thank me, human brat,” Kroic said. “I’m just about to claim the glorious death.”
As he spoke, Kroic hefted his rune-based battle axe, blood seeping from his wounds. He began singing an ancient dwarven butcher’s song and strode towards the oncoming rat ogres, behind which loomed the towering fortress built by dwarves. Yet, the fortress walls were now filled with ratmen.
Felix leaned weakly against the stone bridge’s railing, witnessing Kroic rush towards his death. The riflemen on the walls began firing, and Kroic raised his axe to guard his chest and face as bullets struck the axe face, ringing out and silencing his song.
The ratman chief on the rat ogre, filled with excitement, saw the wounded butcher Kroic as merely a delectable target. He raised his spear and shouted:
“One dwarf!”
Another yelled, “Kill him! Kill him! Quick! Quick!”
Kroic roared in fury, raising his axe to clash back. He was like a whirlwind, cutting upwards along the rat ogre’s thigh.
The bard Felix couldn’t comprehend how he did it or see his movements clearly. One moment he was dazed, and the next, Kroic was already standing on the rat ogre’s shoulder, holding the axe high.
The previously smiling ratman chief lifted his head, staring blankly as the axe blade descended, cleaving his puzzled rat face in two.
In a moment of inspiration, the bard Felix began to sing for Kroic with his hoarse voice, recording the lyrics as he did so.
Kroic felt this was the best song he had ever heard. Of course, it might also be the song “Gems Before” by Ji Ma. He turned his face with a smile, “No mistake in saving you, human brat.”
Saying that, he charged forward with his rune-based battle axe, ready to engage more rat ogres.
After finishing a song, the bard Felix looked down at the paper filled with lyrics in his hand. A wave of sadness washed over him; such a great song would not be sung far and wide.
He smiled and waved, throwing the paper with the lyrics off the stone bridge, saying, “Lava, spread this far and wide.”
The paper floated down in the currents of air, heading towards the fiery red lava below the abyss.
A white shadow quickly ascended, rushing past the paper, with the wind swirling around and flipping the paper.
In the midst of battle, Eve Frostleaf heard a familiar female voice:
“Top Gun pilot! Requesting to engage. Mourning Banshee, ready for action!”
The familiar voice brought back awkward memories.
Eve Frostleaf excitedly turned around, her silver hair flowing, and saw a white figure rush from the edge of the bridge into the sky, tracing a ninety-degree arc directly towards the fortress walls.
It was Ji Ma, holding an empty healing potion bottle. She didn’t care about being frugal at that moment; with a wave, she tossed the glass bottle aside and began to sing her own battle song.
Suddenly, Eve Frostleaf’s excited mood faded away.
Ji Ma had no such concerns; her gaze was fixed on the battlefield at the fort ahead, where George was being mercilessly beaten by seven ratman warriors.
One ratman chief, riding a rat ogre, was outside the battle, bandaging wounds, drinking potions, and resting—preparing to regroup and continue the beatdown.
Ji Ma charged at him with her axe spear, and the white “pain power” coalesced around the blade and tip, glowing with a white radiance.
The ratman chief realized something too late as Ji Ma swooped over his head. The axe blade cut into his back, injecting pain power; the wound ripped open further, nearly splitting the ratman in two, and the rat ogre beneath him had its head exploded.
A surge of pain power flowed back into Ji Ma. Empowered by that pain, she moved with incredible speed as the fortress walls loomed toward her.
Ji Ma climbed upward at a ninety-degree angle, flying toward the top of the walls.
The ratmen on the walls hurriedly shifted their guns towards her; from the moment Ji Ma appeared until now, the ratmen gunmen had been busy aiming their guns at her and had not fired a single shot.
But they had no more chances to shoot.
Ji Ma dove down, directly skewering a gunman trying to fire, creating a blood hole that instantly enlarged to the size of a basketball.
The ratmen gunmen fearfully looked up, shouting, “Banshee! The Banshee is here!”
“Shoot her down! Quick!”
“Come protect me!”
Ji Ma drew out a ratling Turing gun and switched it to rapid-fire mode, which was prone to explosive results. “You really like shooting, don’t you? Go! Shoot away.”
“What’s the newest weapon doing in her hands?”
Ji Ma squeezed the trigger, and the Turing barrel spun rapidly, spewing a series of green light spots that formed a line as she dove towards the lineup of ratmen gunmen. The green line swept over the ratmen, and after her dive, she turned around for another pass, sweeping back and forth.
The ratmen gunmen screamed and fled as they were hit. The bullets, infused with pain power, had even greater force, causing their hands and feet to explode.
As expected of ratman technology, after less than fifteen seconds of firing, the Turing gun emitted green smoke. Ji Ma blinked and quickly divined that the Turing would explode in three seconds.
Without hesitation, Ji Ma tossed the Turing gun towards the pile of ammunition for the raised guns and flew off, conveniently grabbing one of the guns as the Turing exploded behind her, shaking the entire fortress walls.
Several gunmen’s bodies were blown off the walls.
The red-armored ratman warlord retreated from the battle, looking up just in time to see a white figure flying down from the exploding walls, heading this way.
He was not overly surprised or fearful; he merely felt that wanting to kill George would cause a bit more blood.
Previously observing, he had concluded that Ji Ma was just a wolf rat that could only nip at the remnants of the army. His side held the advantage in hard power, and she couldn’t alter the greater situation.
The red-armored ratman warlord ordered, “At all costs, kill the brave one!”
After speaking, he pulled out a syringe and forcefully injected the “muscle head” rat ogre with a shot. The effect was immediate; the “muscle head” bulged with muscle, raised its head, eyes turning red, and roared at the soaring Ji Ma.
But Ji Ma did not immediately rush to save her loved one; instead, she turned and dashed toward the distant figure of Butcher Kroic, who was battling two ratman warriors in scant clothing.
