Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 477 - 321: The Endless Night (Part 2)_2

Chapter 477: Chapter 321: The Endless Night (Part 2)_2

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The veteran glanced back at the building behind him, having just felt, instinctively, that something had twisted momentarily.

But no one had noticed anything, and the observer teams didn’t relay any other messages.

"It’s Chaos, the Book of Knowledge, the scum of Mimicking Birds," the One-eyed had already cut open the sleeve of the slain sentinel, "Everyone drink the Mechanical Mind Potion. We’re starting our anti-illusionist warfare."

"I hate Mimicking Birds," grumbled the veteran as he uncorked his bottle of potion and chugged it down in one go.

It tasted of almonds, slightly bitter, but at least it would allow the users to ignore most illusion techniques for the following period—this was a specialty of the Mimicking Bird’s disciples.

"There’s news from the Druids. They’ve sent three tutors proficient in transformation magic to provide us with aerial reconnaissance."

"That’s great. The observation team can only see the rooftops and the perimeter, and their vision is impaired by the terrain," One-eyed remarked while noting two figures emerging from the shadows nearby, "The patrol is here."

Two team members already at their post began the standard challenge sequence—the password had only just been heard half an hour ago and should not have changed, but for safety reasons, the observation team had their silenced firearms aimed at them.

And at least seven crossbows were trained on them as well.

"Why shout so loudly?" the two agents of Chaos complained as they approached, having responded correctly to the challenge.

Then one of them seemed to notice strangers at the post.

The next second, he fell to the ground—one shot from the observation team had hit, the other missed.

Without hesitation, the veteran pulled the trigger of his crossbow, and a heavy bolt flew sixty yards—fortunately with the wind, minimizing the need to adjust for drift, piercing the man’s chest before disappearing beyond his body into the unknown.

"Damn, the bolt’s penetration was too strong," said the veteran in a hushed, urgent tone, comparing it unfavorably to bullets that eventually hit the ground after piercing their target.

Several Half-humans quickly moved to drag the bodies away, while others worked to erase the bloodstained snow.

A while later, a second story window of a nearby building was flung open, "What’s going on?"

"Nothing!" The decision to let a teammate with a cold imitate the voice was effective—the man at the window didn’t notice anything amiss, cursed, and finally closed the window.

The veteran checked the map with coordinates provided by the Druids from the sky, assigning targets to all teams.

Two teams per building—if a dozen people couldn’t handle a few Chaotic Believers, the observation team would shoot a flare.

Then, hundreds of armed factory defense team members would storm the site.

After confirming the target, the veteran led his two squads around the outer buildings on the left, through the alleyway. The Druids flew lower, drawing the patrol team’s attention with the distinctive cries of jackdaws.

"With this crappy weather, are there still jackdaws around?"

Indeed, not only were there jackdaws, but also uninvited guests.

The veteran pulled out a Nail Gun from his waist—originally designed for nailing, but occasionally used for killing giant rats; it was silent, reliable, powered by compressed air.

With a dagger in his left hand, held in a reverse grip, the veteran approached the two sentries calmly. As he got extremely close to them, one of them seemed to hear something, turned his head, and came face-to-face with an incoming nail. The next second, the sharp nail pierced his forehead.

Simultaneously, the veteran stepped behind the other sentry, thrusting the dagger through his ribs into his lungs.

Pushing him to the ground, the veteran twisted the dagger, then pressed down hard—judging by his struggle, the dagger hadn’t pierced his heart, or if it had, the man was a Transcendent who had fortified his body.

Luckily, the sentinel couldn’t speak with his lungs filling with blood, and could only struggle in pain until the veteran dropped the Nail Gun and used his right hand to snap the man’s neck.

His teammates were already beginning to climb the fence.

The veteran stood up, picking up his Nail Gun. Two team members came to drag away the bodies, and another Caster restored the ice and snow on the ground to its former state.

The veteran and another made two sets of footprints, then, when they got close to the fence, the veteran lifted the young man over with both hands and then, with a strong pull, climbed over himself.

The team members had split into two groups, waiting in the front and back rows.

The veteran gestured for the younger man to head to the door in the back, near the kitchen.

Then, he stood in front of the main door himself. A team member who could control plants confirmed through the keyhole that there was no one behind the door.

So, the lockpick took the stage, and with two wires, the Half-human picked the lock.

Everyone switched to crossbows and Nail Guns, placing Revolvers and daggers in the most accessible positions.

The veteran greased the doorframe and then cautiously pushed the door open.

He was the first to enter the room, checking the changing room first, and then hugging the wall out around the small corner.

A resident was turned away from him—perhaps feeling the change in temperature from the door opening, he turned his head and saw the veteran.

The next second, a nail burrowed into his head; the plant-controlling teammate caught the body with vines before it could knock over the stove and alarm other residents to the uninvited visitors.

The last one to enter shut the door behind him.

The veteran positioned himself against another wall, leading to the inner rooms.

Clatter of a bowl dropping to the floor came from the kitchen.