Firearms in a Fantasy World

Chapter 161: Siege of the Fortress 3

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

More and more rebel soldiers leaped onto the fortress walls, and the defenders desperately tried to prevent them from widening the breach.

All six ladders of the rebels successfully reached the walls. The battles at the two attack points on the left and the two on the right were at a stalemate, but the situation in the middle two was less optimistic.

The rebel soldiers charging up there seemed to be pumped with adrenaline. They shouted loudly with red eyes, fiercely attacking the defenders. It seemed they didn't care about the swords coming at them; their every move was aggressive.

However, the defenders struggled to inflict any damage. Despite wearing leather armor, these soldiers seemed as if they were clad in full steel plate armor from head to toe. Even blows to their arms or legs easily deflected the defenders' swords.

Knight's squire Bowman found himself in a tough battle, tightly engaged by one rebel soldier.

After several rounds, he could tell the enemy's combat skills were not advanced—just basic military maneuvers. Still, they were far inferior to his training in knightly combat techniques guided by his father from childhood.

Under normal circumstances, he felt he could swiftly defeat such opponents.

But these soldiers before him possessed near-unnatural defense and strength far exceeding his own. These advantages compensated for their lack of refined technique.

Each time Bowman struck their bodies, it felt like hitting a steel plate—something he'd only experienced when striking enemies in heavy armor.

Yet these soldiers wore seemingly agile leather armor. If they truly wore heavy armor, no matter their strength, they couldn't move so agilely.

Bowman couldn't help but recall the scout's report from a few days ago about encountering foes with inexplicable defensive capabilities.

As a knight's squire, he could hold his ground against the rebel soldier entangling him. But for the other ordinary soldiers, things looked grim. Close combat had been ongoing for over ten minutes, and several of Bowman's comrades had already fallen around him, while the enemy seemed unscathed.

At that moment, he heard the Duke commanding the battle from the tower shout to everyone, "Blunt weapons! Use blunt weapons against those swords can't deal with!"

That reminder sparked an idea in Bowman's mind. Although the nobles were unclear about the scout's report, if the enemy indeed possessed armor-like defenses where swords were ineffective, blunt weapons might prove effective.

The fortress hastily prepared a batch of blunt weapons like warhammers, though their numbers were limited. Bowman was assigned one, currently hanging at his waist.

True blunt weapons weren't as massive and cumbersome as commonly imagined. For example, Bowman's warhammer had a hammerhead only the size of an adult fist, not the exaggerated sizes bards sang about, weighing hundreds of pounds.

Bowman swiftly dodged the enemy's attack, deftly sheathing his knightly sword. He immediately unhooked the warhammer from his waist.

After exchanging a few more moves with the rebel soldier, he spotted an opening. Putting all his strength into it, he viciously swung the warhammer, striking the enemy's right arm.

The tremendous recoil nearly numbed and pained his right hand gripping the handle, nearly causing the weapon to slip.

But in that split second of impact, the rebel soldier let out a pained cry. His right arm, struck by the hammer, immediately went limp, and the sword in his hand fell to the ground.