Gunmage-Chapter 36: Unredeemable

Lugh paused, then spoke,

"Yeah, I'm still human. At least, I hope so."

Vaelith remained silent for a moment, then she raised a hand.

"We can't take any risks. Kill them."

"Shit."

Two men reacted even before she could complete her sentence. They threw their rifles at Lugh and Lyra while simultaneously drawing their sidearms, opening fire—on their comrades.

Two loud bangs echoed like thunder on the beach. Before the bodies could hit the sand, Lugh took advantage of the confusion and fired.

The bullet struck another soldier in the chest with deathly precision, and a wave of concussive force pushed him off his feet.

Lugh exhaled sharply. All the machine gunners were down.

In the next moment though, a symphony of gunshots reverberated through the beach. The situation was one of utter chaos.

The soldiers were split between taking down their turncoat comrades and the three strange people that had appeared out of nowhere.

The moment of indecision cost them their lives, their enemies did not hesitate. They fired again and again, cutting them down with no remorse.

A bullet shot from the elf whizzed straight at Lugh, but by then, Lyra's long, flowing braids had already surged in front of him, completely blocking the shot.

With proper preparations, A single bolt-action rifle wouldn't pose much of a threat. Machine guns, however, were a different matter entirely.

This was why Lugh had taken them out first.

The remaining soldiers quickly fell under the unrelenting attacks of their traitorous comrades.

They didn't seem to feel pain anymore, their bodies were riddled with billets but they continued fighting, unflinching, their movements hollow.

As long as the wounds didn't instantly disable them they continued to shoot even as they bled out.

Dealing with these sorts of soldiers under the combined assault of Lugh and Lyra was a task too tall to climb.

They succumbed to their wounds and fell one after the other.

The beach would have grown deathly silent, if not from the pained moans coming from the injured. The soldiers were either dead or disabled, Lugh's puppets also couldn't hold out forever. They too lay still in the sand.

Only four people were left standing. From start to finish, the priestess hadn't raised a single finger.

Now that it was all over, she reached out patted Lugh on his head, despite only being a few inches taller. He hated when she did that.

"Your technique is still sloppy.

Lugh clicked his tongue cursing silently, but by then, the priestess had already directed her gaze to the elf.

"Now what?"

She asked with a smile. Vaelith didn't know why, but that smile sent chills down her spine.

She forced herself to remain composed, speaking in a monotone voice

"Impressive. Now that you've killed soldiers of the Ophris Kingdom, you are unredeemable."

"Even if we take you hostage?"

Vaelith scoffed

"Ha! Do you really think you can capture me?"

"I do."

The words were soft. Almost casual. Yet they carried a weight that made her blood run cold. There was no smugness, no arrogance—just pure, unwavering certainty. A mage of her caliber could tell when someone was bluffing.

This wasn't a bluff.

Lyra stepped forward.

"We're really sorry for how this turned out, but we're being sincere. Please take us to the general, and we'll explain everything."

The highest-ranking officer present was the only person they could possibly reveal some secrets to. But, seeing the hesitant expression on Vaelith's face, she sucked in a breath of cold air.

"He isn't dead, is he?"

"...No, he's not,"

She admitted after a pause

"Then—"

Vaelith moved before Lyra could finish, aiming her pistol and firing.

A muffled shot. A soldier's body jerked.

She reloaded. Another shot. Another body lost all life.

The wounded survivors—each and every one—were executed where they lay.

Lugh's expression turned dark.

"What are you doing?"

It was Lyra who spoke

"Tying up loose ends"

Vaelith replied absentmindedly. Lyra was about to say something but Lugh stopped her at the last moment.

"Let's go,"

The elf stated, striding off the beach.

They followed her to a wooden carriage tucked near the treeline.

By now, Vaelith had wrapped her face with a scarf and pulled a helmet low over her ears, ingeniously disguising her features.

She took the reins as neither Lugh nor Lyra knew how to handle horses.

The scenery shifted the more they travelled, but one thing remained unchanged, and that was the devastation of the landscape.

Bullet holes lined the palm trees, and the path was a treacherous mess of holes and craters.

Then in the distance, something came into view. A white flag emblazoned with a burning rose hung high as it flapped through the wind.

It was the symbol of the Ophris Kingdom.

Before they could advance further, the carriage was stopped by the guards on patrol duty.

'Well, this was to be expected'

Lugh thought. Considering how bloody suspicious she looked, it would be a shock if she wasn't stopped.

He braced himself for a tense exchange but the confrontation he was expecting didn't happen.

Instead, she flashed them a gold insignia, and the men immediately stepped back, offering a salute.

Lugh stared.

"Just like that?"

He felt like this was a serious security flaw, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Right now, it had definitely saved them a lot of trouble.

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Their carriage rolled through the battered town, a combination of winding streets and crumbled houses.

All around, the townsfolk could be seen bustling about, hard at work, trying to rebuild what they could amid the rubble.

The carriage crossed over a small bridge and approached the southern edges of the town.

They finally came to a halt in front of a modest stone house. Two floors, heavily guarded.

Lugh dismounted from the carriage and watched as Vaelith once again flashed a gold insignia to the guards.

But this time, she also leaned in and whispered a few words to them.

Lugh immediately noticed the shift.

The soldiers stiffened, their grip on their rifles tightening.

"You've got to be kidding me"

Lugh muttered as he readied his own rifle—the one he had stolen from earlier—and stared the guards in the eye.