Chapter 207
Chapter 207
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Inferno in the Old Quarter
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Shubanel, part of Collegoton, was located in the northwest of the Second Continent.
In the past, this region had been called the Collegoton Duchy and belonged to a nation created by the player Ovenlenz.
The duchy, which had resisted the United Kingdom to the very end, was completely dismantled after Ovenlenz's defeat, leaving scarcely any traces of its former self.
Any hint of rebellion among the native races led to purges, while even those without were forcibly relocated en masse and mixed into other groups.
The existing culture was utterly eradicated, and the old castle was demolished down to its very foundations, rebuilt in the style of the United Kingdom.
As such, Collegoton was the most United Kingdom-like place on the Second Continent, despite having resisted the longest.
This was because it had been reorganized into new cities entirely under the United Kingdom's direction, without any vestiges of its history.
Collegoton exhibited stark class divides compared to other regions, and Shubanel, its largest industrial city, had successfully erased its history with massive industrial backing.
Consequently, the people of Collegoton and Shubanel felt little connection not only to the land but to one another.
'Is that why?'
Sarcho watched the revolutionary forces moving in perfect unison under Dain's command.
He himself hadn't anticipated such resounding success, so he sought reasons for it.
'In other countries... no, even in other parts of the United Kingdom, there are plenty of deep-seated grudges between races. But the United Kingdom didn't want to leave even a handful of those harboring vengeance against them in the lands they conquered. That's why our ancestors were allowed to settle here.'
Sarcho pondered.
'Thanks to that, we harbor no particular grudges against the United Kingdom. We could accept injustices with a shrug. But as that oppressive pressure intensified... when we finally grew angry again, our fury focused on a single point. That's why we've achieved this—because our strength converged as one.'
Of course, Sarcho knew it was premature to call the revolution a success.
Dain called out to him.
"Sarcho, looks like the fight's started at the gates."
"It's beginning now."
"You remember everything I told you?"
"Yes."
To Sarcho's eyes, Dain seemed to have prepared for this battle over a long time.
Indeed, among Dain's comrades was Rolls, a former officer turned laborer.
Despite being a Mumi, he had graduated from the officer academy and even served at the front lines, only to be framed for whistleblowing on corruption and dishonorably discharged.
He should have enjoyed elite social status as an ex-officer, but relentless harassment in the Yumi-dominated military society left him with nothing better than ordinary Mumi jobs.
Dain said,
"The United Kingdom's army will regret casting out capable officers like him."
"I hope you're right."
According to the plan, the battle at the gates wasn't crucial.
It sufficed to have a minimal number of revolutionaries poke rifle barrels from the wall's gun ports and offer token resistance.
Even with few defenders, suppression wouldn't be easy, forcing the United Kingdom forces into a choice.
One option: breach the walls. But if they believed the enemy few, it was a burdensome pick.
The Collegoton local garrison was meant to defend Collegoton itself. With unknown revolutionary numbers and alternatives available, demolishing the walls seemed excessive.
Moreover, having rushed in with light infantry—underestimating revolutionary mobility, size, and gear—they lacked artillery for wall-breaching.
"In the end, they'll bypass."
If the revolutionaries at the west gate seemed fewer than expected, the garrison would swing their main force around to strike from behind, assuming poor distribution elsewhere.
The remaining options—south and east gates—were distant and narrow, so unlikely.
"Especially if they think the south gate's wide open, why not just go straight there?"
The revolutionaries planned to leave the south gate empty.
The Collegoton garrison would naturally take it, exactly as desired.
In past wars, wall-based fights favored the defenders.
Most heavy weapons were blades like swords and spears; even ranged ones like bows and crossbows were arcing projectiles, making high ground a huge edge.
But with rifles—specifically automatic rifles—that advantage diminished.
Automatic rifles were direct-fire weapons with long range; a few meters' height barely reduced their punch.
True, gun ports or sandbags could block bullets, but not grenades or mortars.
With few revolutionaries, wall fights offered no great boon.
"As Comrade Rolls said, what we need is deception."
The revolutionaries' sole edge over the Collegoton garrison was information.
The garrison knew protester numbers and urban firearms, but not precise revolutionary strength.
Nor that revolutionaries had seized nearly the whole city—their second move after nobles was the pigeon post station.
Sarcho rose with his rifle in hand.
"Then I'll be off, comrade."
Dain nodded silently.
Sarcho's mission was the operation's linchpin—and most perilous.
The Collegoton garrison would enter the city to a hail of bullets.
This was to convince them of an ambush.
'The moment they think we've seen through them, that's when they're most gullible.'
As calculated, gunshots rang out upon reaching the south gate—battle engaged.
Tall three- and four-story buildings soon appeared.
Built by past generations, these were Yumi constructions honoring old styles—plastered walls exposing wooden frames for aesthetic charm.
Though overshadowed by modern stone, many nobles still favored such wooden architecture.
As Sarcho entered the cluster, a group rushed up—rifle-armed revolutionaries.
"Ah, you're that priest next to Comrade Dain, right?"
"I'm Sarcho. I'll hold out to the end."
"You're the one for that role."
"Yes."
"Stay safe, whatever happens. We're the last here. Prep's done. Once the decoys slip out... you know what to do?"
Sarcho nodded.
After they left, he entered a nearby building, set down his backpack, and scanned the street from the window.
As gunshots neared, he flipped open the lantern lid in his hand.
"This way! Run!"
"Think it'll go as planned?"
"Worry about that after we escape!"
Before Sarcho could speak, roughly a hundred revolutionaries dashed down the street.
Some carried wounded on their backs, others supported the limping. At a glance, the battle looked grim.
Gunshots ceased.
Sarcho waited longer.
Dain's plan: lure the Collegoton garrison into this southern wooden district.
Shubanel's old quarter, with narrow streets.
Tall buildings perfect for ambushes.
Unaware of revolutionary control, the garrison would pursue spotted foes—and it played out perfectly.
'Once the Collegoton garrison fully enters this wooden district, we wrap it up.'
For that, one had to stay last.
Dangerous work.
Not certain death, but required boldness and duty to act with the enemy nearly upon them.
Thus, Sarcho volunteered.
'I doomed this city's first revolution. Helping the second won't absolve me.'
Footsteps echoed in the quiet street.
Sarcho peeked out the window.
Collegoton garrison troops in navy uniforms.
Suspecting hidden revolutionaries, they advanced warily, spaced out and vigilant in all directions.
Sarcho held his breath, biding time.
"...Seems empty here?"
"Yeah? Why's it so dead? Evening or not, can't be this quiet..."
Sarcho lit the item in his bag, then bolted for the back door.
He panted even over that short sprint.
'What? Why no action?'
Sarcho glanced back the way he'd come.
'No way... a dud?'
The instant the thought crossed his mind, the dynamite in his bag detonated.
The massive shock hurled Sarcho forward as he ran.
The first blast collapsed one wooden building.
Embers and flaming debris ricocheted into structures across the street.
Wood burned fiercely even alone, but oil strewn inside by revolutionaries—after evacuating occupants—ignited it faster.
Spotting Sarcho's signal blaze, other revolutionaries waiting around the wooden district set fires.
Shubanel's south glowed crimson as it burned.
The revolutionaries' preparation: arson.
Screams from the Collegoton garrison pierced the flames.
"Fire everywhere! It's out of control!"
The initial explosion wasn't devastating.
A fine ambush, but negligible against the full garrison entering the city.
Yet the captain's involvement threw command into chaos.
The garrison blindly fled the blast's direction—only to see flames surging from all sides.
Soldiers scattered into alleys for survival, morale plummeting.
The street center might've been safe from fire, but furred races panicked at the stench of singeing hair.
Aged wooden buildings eagerly answered the flames roiling from across the way.
Black smoke from burning structures choked the sky.
Soldiers already collapsed in the streets, overcome by fumes.
The lieutenant, automatically assuming command, shouted,
"Follow the street!"
Only buildings burned; narrow or not, sticking to the road should evade the flames.
The Collegoton garrison soldiers charged after the lieutenant.
But at the street's end waited revolutionaries behind barricades, rifles trained.
Dain shouted,
"Fire!"