"Your Excellency, I saw flashes of light, it must be the muzzle flashes!" The child’s voice from behind took Malin by surprise, and he turned his head with some difficulty, only to see Cain, the boy, holding a pot lid over his head. Noticing Malin’s gaze, the little rascal broke into a grin, and at the same time, a censored bar-like object fell out of his nose.
He was so much like Malin himself in his younger years.
"The little bugger," Malin took out a handkerchief to wipe the boy’s nose. "Where did you see the flashes?"
"On our way here, there was a three-story building ruin by the roadside. The light was at the top, near the edge of a window," Cain said, looking at Malin apologetically, "I’m sorry, Your Excellency, for dirtying your handkerchief."
"It’s nothing." Malin tucked the handkerchief away, unconcerned with how dirty the kid might be.
"Your Excellency, give it to me, I’ll wash it and return it to you," Cain said, looking at Malin with hopeful eyes, but he didn’t reach out, clearly waiting for Malin’s decision.
This made Malin grow even fonder of the child—it seemed that, had it not been for the war leading to his family fleeing south, Cain would have been a well-behaved child from a wealthy household.
So he handed the handkerchief to the boy, who stuffed it into his pocket.
"Stay here and don’t move; wait for me to come back," Malin instructed, to prevent the youngster from following him again, then he turned to the veteran Bishop from the Church of the War God, "They are on the third floor, I’ll take some men to approach; have the others hide."
After saying this, Malin turned to an old soldier who had just peeked out from behind cover, the latter holding up a hand, "Take me with you, Your Excellency, I’m a good shot."
"Okay, you’re in, and I need a few more." After Malin finished speaking, he looked at the heads peeking out from behind cover on his side and smiled, "Those with guns, raise your hands; those without, keep your heads down."
After that, there were many fewer heads poking out, but those remaining cooperatively raised their hands along with their guns.
Malin chose three with revolvers and one with a double-barreled shotgun, "Do you know your way around here?"
"I do," Cain piped up eagerly, but then five adults unanimously overruled him, "Your Excellency, we’re all familiar with this area."
"Stay put and wait here for me," Malin told Cain with a nod, and then he led his group away.
Walking through the alley, as the residents were familiar with the area, Malin made his way to the ruin guided by them. Not hearing any noise didn’t mean there was no one around. As Malin leaned against the wall, he hadn’t even stretched out his hand when he received a bayonet pulled by the old soldier from his scabbard.
"Familiar with this?" Malin asked with a smile.
"No, I’m usually the guy from whom the lieutenant pulls chewing gum out of his mouth," said the old soldier with a nostalgic look, "Thinking about it, it’s been ten years since I retired; sorry, we don’t have any chewing gum here."
"That’s all right, sometimes spell formations are quite effective too," Malin took the mirror offered by the old soldier, used a zero-ring trick to magically attach the mirror to the bayonet seamlessly, and then stuck it around the corner, "No artillery, or anything like that."
As he said this, Malin suddenly missed the past, when he used to go to the movies and saw "Saving Private Ryan" by the American forces—it was a similar situation, except Chaos didn’t have a machine gun, and there were no life-threatening shell holes or barbed wire here: "You two, run across the street, quickly."
Malin patted the two young men behind the old soldier, and after they nodded, he peeked out and shouted, "Run!" He then quickly ducked back in as a bullet hit the corner of the wall.
The two young men ran quickly across the street and nestled up against the wall on the side of the street.
"Just one archer," the old soldier took the mirror from Malin, peeked around the corner and said, "He’s on the third floor; I can’t see him because there is a cover right where he is, and the sun is moving to the west, it’s too dark to see him, but I can see the gun barrel."
"He is prepared, so we’re going to do this," Malin said, pulling out an illusion of the old soldier, "You follow your illusion out, and then I will follow you. Get ready."
"Your Excellency, what about us two?" the young men asked with some confusion.
"You’ll circle back to the main road from here. He’s either alone or has only one gun, and his attention will likely be on us. Come from the south side of the street, and be careful," Malin instructed and once again peeked out and ducked back. His illusion then immediately charged out.
The gunshot sounded as the bullet passed through the illusion.
The old soldier and Malin quickly crossed the street. When they took cover against the wall, he saw the two young men leaving the corner.
"Now it’s our turn to act, let’s go, be careful," Malin said as he moved to the front of the group. Maybe the sniper was alone, or maybe he thought there were still people in the corner, but he wouldn’t wait for long, so they had to move quickly to catch him before he left.
The old veteran carried his hunting rifle behind Malin—that was the reward he received when he retired, a hunting rifle with a standard barrel and military caliber, an honor given to all veterans who survived their service.
He followed Malin to a position very close to the ruins. When Malin leaned against the wall, the old soldier immediately crouched to one side, grabbed the mirror, and glanced down the alley between two small buildings: "Your Excellency, I can’t see much, but we need a grenade."