Malin had always believed that only bizarre creatures like humans could live so freely, but he never imagined that Mr. Ails, a Lich from another world, could live just as unrestrainedly.
Human transformation spells are indeed quite useful.
With this thought, Malin heard the sound of galloping horses—most of Sydney’s infantry moved on two legs, but some Elite troops had mounts, allowing the soldiers to maneuver on horseback.
It was the same with the Seventeenth Division.
This allowed Malin to duck into the shooting position, and Fio, understanding as always, took out a monocular from his bag and handed it to Malin.
Through the monocular, Malin saw the lengthy columns of cavalry; they stopped at a considerable distance from the battlefield and then proceeded on foot into the fray.
There were also a few clearly modified four-wheeled vehicles rushing towards the trenches, carrying big-headed soldiers. The drivers brought the vehicles to a halt sideways near the trenches, and the big-headed soldiers climbed out from the side facing Malin.
Then Malin saw Maiseer.
The lad was clumsily climbing out from the back of the vehicle.
Though his movements were awkward, it didn’t seem to be out of fear but rather due to the shape of his actions.
Well, the brat still looks somewhat like a person.
But Malin did remember saying that he wanted the lad to be placed in the second line—after all, he was just a child driven by hatred, and Malin couldn’t be sure how the kid would fare facing the true battlefield.
After all, when you take someone out, you can’t expect to bring them back in a box.
"I really can’t figure out what these kids are thinking these days," said the platoon leader sitting in the back of the assault vehicle, while checking his helmet and chatting with the platoon sergeant beside him.
"Mr. Maiseer is brave. When I was his age, the Northern battlefield was nothing more than a story to me," said the older sergeant, patting the young soldier beside him, "Hark, stick with Maiseer when we get down and keep him safe."
"No problem." The young soldier nodded and then smiled at Maiseer, "I’m Hark Roland, my ancestors are from the South of Engma. They fled to the Sydney Union during the Chaos invasion."
"Nice to meet you." Maiseer extended his hand.
This is what true comradeship feels like, Maiseer thought.
"The vehicle is starting to skid! Don’t open the door! We’re climbing out on this side!" The platoon leader loudly gave orders, then he was the first to stand up and climb over the vehicle’s sidewall.
Bullets clinked and clanged against the bulletproof barrier. Maiseer got up, stood behind a soldier who was shot while climbing out of the vehicle, and fell out directly.
Maiseer followed and climbed out of the vehicle—his movements a bit distorted, his face splattered with blood for the first time, he experienced the taste of combat... not too bad.
After disembarking, he and Hark dragged the wounded soldier to a depression nearby. Hark checked the soldier briefly, then tapped on the helmet of Maiseer, who was scanning the surroundings: "He’s dead."
Maiseer looked at the middle-aged man in front of him, whose face bore a trace of pain, but more so an expression of regret. He remembered the man patting his head when boarding, saying that his own child was about the same age as him.
Maiseer saw Hark pull out a stack of papers from his upper jacket pocket and watched as Hark placed the papers into his own pocket: "What’s that?"
"Old Kith was a cultured man, he often wrote letters to his family, it’s just that this time, he wrote a will," the young Hark said after which he looked at Maiseer, "I think it wouldn’t be bad for you to fire a few shots here. After all, our platoon leader said that you are a child brought by Mr. Malin, and he said he can’t bear to let an original son like you just die mysteriously on the frontline."
"I don’t need pity, I’m going up to kill Chaos," Maiseer said while adjusting the short barrel of his firearm. After loading the bullet, he followed the path previously taken by the soldiers and rushed into the trench.
Behind him, Hark also jumped into the trench. Unlike Maiseer, Hark carried a revolver in one hand, and a combat engineer shovel in the other, the sharpened blade capable of digging through any flesh.
Maiseer ignored this peer, instead raised his gun and fired at Chaos not far away, who was pinning down a warrior. The bullet passed through his neck, and the warrior, seizing the chance of a counterattack, grabbed the enemy’s hand, turned the bayonet around, and stabbed it into Chaos’ eye socket.
"You’re indeed the original son of the Church of the War God; your shooting is pretty good," said Hark without stinting his praise.
Maiseer smiled awkwardly—he had actually aimed for that Chaos’ head.
Calm down, Maiseer, you’re not a rookie who has never fired a gun at the Church of the War God, remember, align the three points.
Cocking the bolt, Maiseer aimed his gun at Chaos appearing at the top of the trench. The enemy also saw Maiseer and pointed his gun at him—this must be a traitor.
Looking at the worn-out military attire by his side, Maiseer pulled the trigger. This time, the bullet pierced the chest of the traitor, who screamed and fell from the trench, landing headfirst and immediately ceased to breathe.
"Well done!" exclaimed Hark excitedly, while not being idle himself, he fired his gun, Maiseer turned his head to see a Chaos fall from above; this one wasn’t dead, but seemed quite dazed, then Hark chopped off his head with a shovel.