I Pioneered Scientific Magic

Chapter 290: Times Have Changed, Fools!

"Protect the king!" "Kill these rebels!"

Within Hadralata, as the chief guard, Simmons shouted loudly, ordering his guards to rely on their shields to withstand the fierce onslaught of gunfire.

Tonight, most of the army in the capital had been dispatched for a mission, but Bazeel had anticipated the possibility of failure, ensuring the palace wasn't left defenseless.

Apart from a few remaining guards, there were several bishops and a dozen priests assisting in defense. So, despite Redell leading more men and using flintlock guns, they couldn't break through immediately.

The balance was shattered only when a massive lightning bolt illuminated the capital from the sky.

Redell and his group were startled, yet they had been briefed beforehand, vaguely anticipating what was happening.

The palace guards unavoidably fell into disarray, especially the priests and bishops in the defense, as the massive lightning bolt descending from the sky was a form of magic unknown to them!

"Don't panic! Lord Anluke is punishing those rebels! The divine... is with us!" Simmons shouted hoarsely, barely calming the chaos in the army, yet rows of soldiers still fell under gunfire and rain of bullets.

Simmons sighed in relief when, after several volleys, the gunfire ceased.

Redell and his group had run out of ammunition! Having fought their way into the palace, enduring several battles en route, their limited supply of ammo had depleted. Everyone raised their guns, preparing for close combat.

Simmons quickly realized this from their movements and grew excited. "Everyone, rally! Our chance to counterattack is here. Those devil's followers can't use powerful weapons anymore. Now is our time to win!"

Forced to huddle behind shields, pressed by the gunfire, the frustrated palace guards gripped their long knives, pouncing on the enemy like wolves.

Simmons was no exception; he immediately targeted Redell, believing that taking down the leader would greatly demoralize the rebels.

Brandishing his heavy knight's sword, Simmons displayed a finesse unexpected of his stature. With every strike, someone would howl and collapse into a pool of blood.

"Back off!" Redell yelled, stopping more people from surrounding him.

"Quite brave!" Simmons, surprised, shook the blood off his blade, then smirked. "But your life ends here!"

As he spoke, Simmons, like a fierce wind, covered a dozen meters in a few steps, swinging his sword toward Redell.

But facing him, Redell dropped his gun, drawing out a small, palm-sized, entirely black short gun from his pouch, aiming it at Simmons.

An instant chill surged through Simmons. Having witnessed the flintlock gun's power, he knew this was something similar.

But now, at such close range, he couldn't dodge. Simmons could only raise his sword defensively, relying on his exceptional reflexes to hopefully deflect the bolts flying faster than arrows...

Despite the weird magic of this gun, firing rounds much faster than arrows, he believed he could block them!

The next moment, gunfire erupted!

Simmons' expression changed from serious to horrified because instead of a single bullet, dozens, even hundreds, burst from the muzzle!

A barrage of bullets flew out, forming a cone-shaped spread. Within this wide coverage, Simmons couldn't even attempt to dodge. In an instant, his left arm, shoulder, abdomen were pierced, shattered, turning into fragments that littered the ground.

Simmons fell like a withered leaf, eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness. This wasn't the death a knight should meet...

"Times have changed, fool," Redell shook his head. It was a specially crafted weapon from the alchemy workshop, intended for dealing with bishops. Since Simmons insisted on approaching, he became the perfect test subject for the gun!

Redell kept the short gun, picked up Simmons' knight sword, impaled his broken body high, announcing the leader's death, shattering the guards' morale.

In the palace, attendants and ministers were in chaos. The sounds of battle and gunshots outside continued unabated. However, Bazeel remained seated on the throne, showing no intention to move.

"Your Majesty Bazeel, those cursed miners are about to rush in. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late," a loyal attendant knelt, urgently advising.

"No need. They're already outside," Bazeel remained calm. Upon hearing the report of the palace attack, he had guessed tonight's actions against the wizards were just a ruse.

They had fallen into a trap, like prey caught in a spider's web, struggling would be futile.

Bazeel understood this well and had no intentions of fleeing.

His time was at an end; death was inevitable...

Moreover, this was his kingdom, the ancestral territory of the Bazeel family. He needed to assess the potential of his foolish son, whether he was capable of ruling the kingdom!

A commotion grew louder, accompanied by the sounds of battle and footsteps drawing nearer, causing the entire palace to tremble, as if on the verge of collapse.

Moments later, everything fell silent, and the palace doors finally burst open.

Hatar was the first to enter, holding a blood-stained sword, while Lynn and Anthony followed closely behind.

King Bazeel's gaze swept briefly over Anthony, lingered on Lynn for a while, then turned to Hatar, sighing. "If tonight, you had walked into this hall alone, I would have been very pleased, Hatar!"

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