"Gentlemen, you’ve been in the factory guard’s officer training program for a month now, and today I’ve got an exam for you, many of you should actually know the answers. For example, Abik, you are a Dwarf and have fought in the Eastern Kingdom against zombies for ten years; you should know their habits."
The young instructor said with a smile.
The Dwarf below raised his left hand, nodding: "That’s right, it’s just about being good at desperate fights, sir."
"Indeed, you all excel at desperate fights. Tuojin, I recall you’re from the north side of the Great Wilderness in the Eastern Kingdom, you must be fully aware of your old adversaries, the Black Orcs."
"Yes," the young man nodded.
"Tell us, if it’s an ambush by Black Orcs, how would they do it, and what should we do in response?"
"Their long-range is not good; my recommendation is to keep some distance from possible ambush spots, so even if the Black Orcs’ ambush is indeed there, we won’t be caught by surprise," the young man said confidently.
"What if allies are suddenly attacked?" the instructor asked.
"Control the troops of our allies, tell them to form up. Humans can’t outrun Black Orcs; if ambushed, we can only fight for survival. Killing one breaks even, killing two is a profit."
"That’s precisely why our Lord Malin is willing to produce these new weapons; with them, you won’t need to think about breaking even or making a profit, just wipe them out!" Having said that, the instructor picked up a firearm from the table: "In this operation, your soldiers will be able to use this latest model of firearm, a magazine with 20 bullets, 9MM caliber full power rounds! No need to pull the bolt action, just pull the trigger, and you can effortlessly kill those Black Orcs! Technology changes life!"
I still remember my instructor’s saint-like smile, another believer in firepower supremacy.
The young man looked at the Black Orcs in front of him, took out the scroll from his waist, activated it, and while still within shooting range of a Black Orc, pulled the trigger: "Spread out! Watch out for spears!"
While I find the doctrine of firepower supremacy too lavish, to be honest, in war, the larger the weapon, the more reliable it is.
The Black Orcs’ ambush was straightforward—approach the enemy, then charge. Their rear ranks would hurl short spears—their Crossbowmen followed the vanguard to close in on the battlefield because their arrows lacked accuracy at long range. So they would rush towards the enemy with their crossbows and shoot, then join the fight; this was the Black Orcs’ most common tactic.
There might be some Black Orc Magicians in the rearguard, but it was clear that wasn’t Tuojin’s responsibility at the moment. The rising Stonewall blocked the spears for its master; using the wall as cover, the young man fired to his left—his right was crowded with national defense soldiers who could at least hold for a while; this was his comparison based on the foundation of his own factory guard.
Meanwhile, on the left, more Black Orcs emerged from the woods.
His comrades behind had already started suppressive fire, many Black Orcs fell to the ground, but more rushed into the ranks of the national defense, soldiers too late to shoot reflexively began to form up, using their long-barreled firearms with bayonets to fend off the Black Orcs; often a national defense soldier would just spear a Black Orc only to be cleaved in two by a cold weapon from the side.
"Cover each other’s flanks! Someone fall back to reload!" Tuojin roared, as he discarded his empty Revolver, dashed out from behind the Stonewall, took a firearm from a soldier who had just been knocked away by a thrown axe, pulled open the bolt to check the chamber—good, it was loaded.
Re-cocking the bolt, Tuojin raised the gun; the first bullet pierced the forehead of a Black Orc that had just impaled a soldier, blown his brains out the back of his skull and collapsed him. As the Orc fell, Tuojin’s index finger unlocked the bolt to eject the spent casing, his thumb locked it back in place, while his middle finger once again pulled the trigger.
The Orc, caught in the sights waving a bloodied War Blade, took a bullet in the chest, losing strength, glanced at Tuojin, then got stabbed in the eye by a soldier’s bayonet. As he toppled over, Tuojin had already re-cocked the gun, swivelled the muzzle to the left, and hit the chest of a Black Orc tearing off a soldier’s arm. The Orc didn’t fall, so a second later, another bullet fired and once again penetrated the Orc’s chest, finally bringing the attacker to his knees.
Rapidly working the bolt, Tuojin fired at a Black Orc Archer emerging from the woods who was drawing a bow at him. In this confrontation, technology took the initiative; the bullet flew across the battling crowd and into the Orc’s abdomen. The unbalanced Archer released the string, the wildly off-target arrow eventually buried itself in the back of an Orc locked in a standoff with three soldiers. As the Orc screamed in pain, three bayonets thrust into his chest, knocking him to the ground.
Tuojin continued to shoot rapidly with the ten-round magazine, directing his gun at a Black Orc trading punches with the commander of the national defense—Tuojin honestly didn’t expect this Noble battalion commander to be quite skillful.
The bullet entered the side of the Black Orc’s skull, and as the Orc lost strength and collapsed, the battalion commander, who had snatched the War Blade from its hand, let out a scream and launched a counter-charge. His guards, howling along with their commander, crashed into a group of Black Orcs Archers who had come out of the woods. Soldiers brought down by arrows and Orcs who hadn’t had time to switch weapons and were overturned by bayonets quickly became motionless bodies on the ground.