themonasnovels Chapter 929 Fight to the End
Chapter 929 Fight to the End
Chapter 929 Fight to the End
Inside the arsenal.
One after another, the rebel soldiers were defeated.
"Leon, we can't hold on much longer."
The man called Leon was of medium build. His full name was Lev Blonstein. "Leon" is a variant of "Lev" in French, just like "Henry" in Romance languages is "Henry" in French.
"If you can't hold on, retreat. These Cossack gunners are too accurate. Let them into the factory and fire."
Leon wore an old military overcoat, had a thick mustache on his upper lip and a goatee on his lower lip, and wore pince-nez glasses. He was the image of a typical Jewish intellectual, and it was hard to imagine that such a person could be a rebel leader.
As a technical branch of the military, a good artilleryman either comes from an artillery academy or is trained on the battlefield by being fed artillery shells.
In peacetime, a Russian artillery company would only have one live-fire training opportunity a year. After the war broke out, it was immediately bombarded by the large-caliber heavy artillery of the Germans and the Knights.
Therefore, the skill level of these Cossack artillerymen was actually just so-so. The reason they could achieve such results was twofold: firstly, they were professionals, and secondly, they were equipped with 75mm rapid-fire cannons produced in France. When firing at close range, they had a high rate of fire and high accuracy, which was much better than the artillery produced by Tsarist Russia.
The rebel couldn't help but ask, "But how do we deal with that blue-robed man? He has a magical shield; Alexei fired three shots at him and it didn't work."
"Even the anti-magic bullets were useless?"
Leon raised an eyebrow. Alexei was a good friend he had made when he was exiled to Siberia. They had later gone to exile together in France, where he became a magic gunsmith. He was already considered one of the most elite gunners in the rebel army.
“It’s no use! Alexei said that although that guy’s skill level isn’t that great, he’s carrying some very powerful magical items.”
"Brunstein! I'm back!"
Leon turned around and saw that Ivan, whom he had sent out to contact allied forces, had returned 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 Ms. Natasha—her name is Anna, and Ms. Natasha said she can help us win."
"Ms. Natasha?"
Leon became serious and carefully examined the little girl. Her patched cotton coat and ill-fitting old boots made her seem nothing like someone who could turn the tide of battle.
But since it was Ms. Natasha who said it, there must be some truth to it.
How can you help us?
Anna shook her head blankly. She had gained many new abilities, seemingly rooted in her blood, innate abilities, but she had never used them. Like a young animal that had just started hunting for the first time and did not know where it was in the food chain of nature.
"I do not know."
Anna thought for a moment and added, "But I can try."
The little girl's lack of confidence clearly failed to gain Blomstein's approval. He frowned and ordered, "Protect this little girl well, a tough battle is coming!"
...
The Don Cossacks overwhelmed the insurgents' outer defenses and quickly seized the first workshop.
The long-term nomadic and hunting lifestyle endowed these Cossacks with extremely high combat skills. Many of them began learning shooting and hunting from their fathers when they were ten years old.
Even the rebel forces that occupied the arsenal, which had absorbed many retired veterans and relied on cover for defense, found it difficult to gain the upper hand in this exchange of fire. Their trump card, the white crystal grenade, was completely outmatched by the enemy's spellcasters in terms of range.
Da da da--
A machine gun emplacement, hidden behind armor plating with only a firing port visible, opened fire.
The dense barrage of bullets quickly suppressed the Cossacks' offensive momentum, but then the man in the blue robe exerted his strength again, waving his staff and summoning fireballs.
The fireballs merged above his head, quickly transforming into a long serpent of fire that flew towards the machine gun position.
Accompanied by a roar.
The flames engulfed the entire workshop of the rebels.
The man in the blue robe laughed excitedly: "See this? This is the Fireball spell that Lord Rasputin taught me. You lowly commoners, repent your sins in the flames!"
Not only was Anna a novice, but this blue-robed man, as the illegitimate son of the sorcerer Rasputin, was also setting foot on the battlefield for the first time.
He was immersed in his own power, as if he were no longer an illegitimate son who could only stand in the shadows forever, but a born nobleman who could hold the power of life and death over countless people.
"Tsk, this guy actually has some skill."
The quartermaster pulled back the bolt and ejected a bright yellow cartridge case: "It's this arrogant attitude that's really annoying."
"Isn't that how spellcasters always are?"
Tenniski smiled and said, "What does it matter if he has eyes on his forehead, as long as he can be of use?"
The quartermaster's expression suddenly changed slightly: "If you ask me, this guy must be crazy!"
The man in the blue robe, seemingly realizing that the enemy couldn't penetrate his magical shield, boldly stepped out of his cover, brandishing his staff and laughing loudly: "Save your breath! This is a treasure bestowed upon me by Lord Rasputin. You lowly commoners can't even imagine its power!"
The scorching bullet was stuck in mid-air and easily intercepted by the invisible magical shield without even causing a ripple. Rasputin, as the current hidden monarch of St. Petersburg, had access to resources far beyond the imagination of ordinary people. What he gave to his illegitimate son was a divine artifact-level amulet.
The Blue Robe's actions seemed incredibly risky, but the blow to the morale of the rebels was unparalleled.
An enemy that is impossible to kill or hit, yet can relentlessly unleash firepower on your side, is truly terrifying.
"I knew only a spellcaster could fight another spellcaster. Now we're doomed."
"Brunstein, cover me!"
Some people cried out in despair, while others grabbed a white crystal grenade and leaped away.
He seemed to have practiced basic breathing techniques. The white crystal grenade, which was heavier than an ordinary grenade, flew through the air like a bird in his hand, covering a distance of over a hundred meters, and landed next to the man in the blue robe.
boom--
The flames engulfed the figure in the blue robe.
But the next moment, accompanied by the blue-robed man's arrogant laughter, a fireball suddenly incinerated the bombardier into charred remains.
The man in the blue robe walked slowly out of the smoke, holding a fireball in his palm, like a waiter in high society carrying a tray—very tasteless, but he obviously didn't think so.
"Even white crystal grenades can't hurt him, what other weapons do we have left to use?"
"Now how to do?"
"With the Tsar possessing such terrifying power, is it really possible for us to succeed?"
On the rebel side, morale has plummeted.
Admittedly, without that spellcaster, the rebel army composed of arsenal workers would have had the advantage of terrain and could have fought even against the elite Don Cossacks, but there are no "what ifs" in life.
Bronstein shouted: "Comrades, listen! Every inch of the place where we stand now is soaked in the blood and sweat of the working people. We may fail, but the resistance will never stop because of our failure."
"Think about why we took up arms: so that we would never again be whipped in the factory, so that our children could have hot bread, and so that our brothers who froze to death in the trenches would no longer die in vain!"
"Who wants to desert? You can go, no one's stopping you. But remember: you may dodge a bullet today, but your son will be trembling under the same shackles tomorrow!"
No one left.
Someone muttered quietly, "But what's the point? Compared to the enemy's strength, we are too weak."
The enemy was just a Cossack cavalry regiment, lacking powerful war machines, armored infantry, and a single spellcaster.
If all of this fails, does it prove that armed uprisings are a dead end with no hope for the future?
Bronstein tore off his hat and threw it at his feet: "Even if we fall here today, tomorrow ten thousand workers and ten thousand peasants will rise up and advance over our bloodstains! This is the meaning of our continued struggle! Sooner or later these meat-eaters will understand that the lives of the working people are not meant to be trampled on, and that the power of the working people, even if it is just a spark, is enough to start a prairie fire when united!"
"We will fight to the very end!"
"Let's fight these White bandits!"
The rebels mustered their courage and showed expressions of fearlessness in the face of death. Even in the deepest despair, their concern was never about their own safety.
Unexpectedly, Anna, who hadn't made any moves until then, suddenly pointed a finger.
A streak of crimson lightning leaped from her fingertips and struck the blue-robed figure in the arena with a speed imperceptible to the naked eye. The shield that seemed like an insurmountable barrier was rendered completely ineffective in the face of this crimson lightning.
Snapped--
The blue-robed man's head exploded, and his headless body fell to the ground.
At the same time, the little girl seemed to be startled as well, her mouth agape in surprise.
Did I do this?