Chapter Thirty: The Big Shot After the Battle Began

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Yes, on the hill opposite them, hadn’t three tanks appeared alongside that band of giant lizard cavalry? Their design was painfully awkward; no matter how one looked at them, they resembled cheap, hastily assembled toys, utterly devoid of any holistic engineering elegance. But surely that ion cannon was no fake.

“There really are tanks!” Ash Stein rubbed his eyes to make certain they were not deceiving him, then stared dumbfoundedly at the councilor inside the vehicle. “Damn it, Councilor, this is a Commonwealth colony, isn’t it? Why do the natives here have weapons like tanks? Has no one ever done anything about it?”

Councilor Jiang Yudong had already curled himself up in the recreational vehicle, trembling. At this, however, he snapped, “Damn your sister! I told you not to imitate the way I talk... And besides, the Commonwealth has its own circumstances. This, this has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me now! Councilor, my duty is to protect your safety, and, if possible, the safety of the other civilians too—but only within the limits of what I can actually manage. Councilor, we have only two choices. First, your recreational vehicle is a Kodo Beast Type Three ordered from the Alliance, fitted with armor and an energy shield. It should be able to withstand a few ion-cannon blasts. If we break away from the convoy and make a mad dash for Tulon, we might just survive. Second, we stay here hesitating until we’re all blown sky-high together.”

“I, I, I...” Councilor Jiang hesitated. He was certainly tempted, but he could never bring himself to say that he would abandon so many women, children, and elderly people and flee on his own.

After all, these people had gathered together because of him.

After all, they were votes!

“Well, well, Councilor, you really are a man of principle. Since I’m not a native of Earth, how about I play the villain...”

The mercenary had not finished speaking when the shortwave communicator in front of him chirped twice. Before he could open it, a young girl’s voice came directly through the speaker.

“Mr. Stein, you’re not thinking of running away again, are you?”

“...Nonsense. When a mercenary does it, you can’t call it running away! Wait a second—you hacked my terminal again!”

“One million. Please stay and protect us!” The girl’s decision was immediate and ruthless.

“Uh... Alliance Stars?” Everyone was from the Alliance, after all. It was hardly likely to be Commonwealth Blue Stars.

“No. Imperial Gold Dragons!”

“Well, now, about that...” Ash was tempted. But as a seasoned mercenary, he managed, after half a second, to tear himself away from those glittering little darlings and said solemnly, “Miss Frederica, I’m afraid I’m not up to the task. You should get into this vehicle instead. There’s still room inside...”

That’s my vehicle, the councilor thought.

“One and a half million!”

“Young lady, this really isn’t about money. We...”

“Two million. And if you refuse, I’ll have the Supernatural Administration and the Adventurers’ Association revoke your adventurer’s license!”

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“You little brat, that’s going too far! I conduct myself honorably, and the Alliance government isn’t your family business. On what grounds can the Association and the Administration—”

“You evade taxes! And you never truthfully reported the precious artifact you recently obtained from the Dawn Ruins!”

“...Guh. Wait! Didn’t I give you one of the artifacts I acquired?” Wasn’t that a bribe to keep her quiet? Why did this little brat refuse to play by the rules?

“I’m a minor, so I’m preparing to submit a truthful report now. Even if it’s a few days late, do you really think anyone will blame a minor?”

Ash Stein was left speechless. He glanced at Councilor Jiang inside the vehicle. The greasy middle-aged man who had been trembling in terror moments ago was now grinning broadly—actually grinning.

A future-famous adventurer who had roamed across the galaxy, and yet he had been completely cowed by a little underage girl. Ash suddenly felt a profound sense of melancholy. He sighed, loaded another magazine into his oversized pistol, and then removed a long rifle from his back.

“There are at least two hundred riders... The real trouble is those three tanks. Under normal circumstances, there should be more heavy weapons too. Then again, they’re Sandfolk, so maybe not.”

The mercenary touched the metal tube at his waist, about the size of a flashlight, and felt a little more reassured. A hundred or two of the people in the convoy were armed as well. If it came to a fight, they were not entirely without a chance—but the casualties would be...

That little brat was truly irritating. Didn’t she know that the one thing “Warmhearted Lord Ash” least wanted to see was the tragic spectacle of families torn apart and homes destroyed?

In any event, although the refugees were disheveled and panicked, they were nevertheless armed mobs who had established plantations and mines amid the hostility of the natives. Under the direction of several respected cowboys, including Kelvin, they finally began to move.

There was no time to form a proper vehicle formation, but the able-bodied adults who had guns still managed to climb onto the roofs and claim firing positions.

Then came a burst of gunfire, popping and cracking like beans frying in a pan.

Not a single Sandfolk rider across the way fell from his mount.

They opened fire far too early! Idiots! Ash cursed inwardly.

Fortunately, the Sandfolk were not much better. They began firing as they charged from a great distance.

During the first minute of the battle, both sides engaged in a fierce exchange of wildly inaccurate fire. In the end, no one was injured.

Ash shifted his rifle and slowly aimed at the tank charging at the very front. He gently squeezed the trigger.

The Sandfolk gunner, who had exposed half his body while shouting encouragement, had his head shattered.

The three tanks halted, unnerved by such extraordinary long-range marksmanship. They began traversing their cannons in preparation to fire. In truth, the convoy had long since entered the ion cannons’ effective range. It was simply that the hastily trained Sandfolk tank crews were of limited quality, and they could not guarantee hitting anything at such a distance.

Regardless, the tanks were indeed preparing to fire.

Ash Stein tossed his rifle back into the vehicle, raised his oversized pistol, and placed his right hand over the “flashlight” at his waist.

Then he heard only a ripple in the air. A bright ball of light flashed across his field of vision, followed immediately by a tremendous boom.

The vehicle blasted into the sky was not one of the convoy’s transports carrying spices or civilians, but a Sandfolk tank.

Its triangular turret was blown off its square chassis and went spinning through the air before crashing to the ground, knocking four or five unsuspecting Sandfolk riders from their mounts.

The Sandfolk tanks were stunned. The Sandfolk cavalrymen were dumbfounded. Even Ash on the opposite side was momentarily frozen.

A second later, he quickly determined the trajectory of the ion shot. He swept the scope mounted on his rifle across the terrain and spotted the ambusher on a ridge at the three-o’clock position, more than a kilometer from the Sandfolk formation.

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That, too, was a ramshackle tank resembling a pile of loose building blocks. Shadowy figures moved around it, and no one could tell how many elite troops were lying in ambush.

“Pew-pew-pew! Pew-pew-pew! Pew-pew-pew!”

A dense barrage of energy bursts erupted from a position even closer to the Sandfolk, apparently from the shadowed hollow of a ridge. Crimson energy beams poured into the Sandfolk ranks like a violent storm, sending men and mounts tumbling in every direction.

“Ha! Whoever they are, they’re on our side!” Ash shouted happily, raising his oversized pistol and firing into the chaotic enemy ranks.

What erupted from the barrel was neither a bullet nor a laser beam, but a missile about the thickness of a finger. It was a portable missile manufactured by the Alliance’s Winter Plains Industries: moderate in range, but astonishingly powerful. Most importantly, it could be fired from a specialized firearm.

The magazine Ash had just inserted into his pistol was naturally not a bullet magazine, but a missile cartridge. A box of six cost only fifty thousand in total—a bargain well worth having, considering a single missile normally sold for ten thousand.

The tiny missile exploded beside one of the tanks. Although it failed to destroy the vehicle outright, it completely disrupted its course. The tank veered wildly, running over several Sandfolk riders before finally slamming headfirst into another tank.

The ambushers’ tank began advancing, firing a second time as it moved. This ion round struck the side armor of a tank. It still failed to destroy it completely, but it successfully crippled its power system. The tank slumped crookedly where it stood, its turret twisting uselessly.

The remaining tank struggled free of the wreckage, abandoning its disabled companion as it lurched away. It had gone only a few steps when concentrated energy beams from another direction engulfed it, drowning it instantly in a blaze of crimson flashes.

Ash fired another missile toward that direction. When flames and the roar of an explosion rose into the air, he finally relaxed. Then he snatched up his rifle and began methodically picking off the Sandfolk who had completely lost their will to fight.

“You’re reimbursing me for those missiles later! Fifty thousand each! I’m charging you cost price—they’re premium Alliance products!”

The councilor was about to explode when he heard “fifty thousand each,” but upon learning that they were Alliance-made, he could only shut his mouth in sullen silence.

The cowboys and the other members of the convoy began scoring kills as well. They were quite pleased. What they had expected to be a bitter struggle had turned into an ordinary shooting hunt—and that was something they knew very well.

Through his scope, Ash vaguely saw more figures appear at the ambushers’ position, shouting and gesturing. It seemed they were preparing to charge, but another person kicked and punched them back into place.

“The enemy has lost the will to fight. Shouldn’t they be charging now?” Ash wondered.

In the end, the Sandfolk cavalry scattered and fled beyond everyone’s range, and the last tank was singled out and destroyed. Only then did the ambushers finally reveal themselves.

“Wh-who are they...?” The councilor still had not left the vehicle. Clutching his small defensive pistol, he cautiously asked Ash, who was observing through his scope.

“The alert can be lifted. They’re your security force.” The mercenary lowered his rifle. Although he relaxed his guard, his face remained full of puzzlement. He could hardly believe that Earth’s security force could fight this well.

“Oh, the security force!” Councilor Jiang was instantly rejuvenated. In the blink of an eye, he changed from a trembling marmot into an arrogant, curly-haired baboon. He flung open the door, leapt from the large vehicle, and stood there with his head held high and his chest thrust out, rigid as a compass needle.

For a moment, he truly had the air of a great man.

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