Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 531 The more they fought, the more skeletons appeared.

Wriggling, white bones.

Hodge found it hard to understand how the two words could be combined.

But he soon stopped worrying about it. As he jogged along, Hodge looked back at the white mist behind him, his face ashen.

"Damn it, damn it, how could it run so fast!?"

His previous estimates, along with those of Ashgwin, were primarily based on the speed at which the fog moved.

But the skeletons chasing after them were clearly not quite right.

“Look closely, the mist isn’t moving fast, but the bones are moving very fast!” Gwen pointed into the distance.

The white mist, like a veil, drifted slowly toward this side, while the writhing skeletons, like a semi-trailer truck that crashed into the veil, pulled the entire veil along at high speed, leaving long arcs on both sides.

“Indeed, the white mist is just rolling south, but the skeletons are chasing us.” Ash’s voice came from above, and Hodge turned around to look.

The number of skeletons didn't seem to be many, but they successfully pulled the entire white mist towards them, and their target was extremely clear: the retreating expeditionary force!
"No, we can't go on like this!" Hodge was getting anxious. The skeletons were moving much faster than expected, and if this continued, they might not be able to detect the train's arrival!

"How far away are the skeletons from us now?" Hodge looked up and asked Ash, who was a superhuman with eyesight far exceeding that of ordinary people.

"Less than five kilometers, we've already passed the markers we left earlier."

"It looks like we'll have to try the five-kilometer mark."

The soldiers of the expeditionary force clearly sensed that something was wrong.

The so-called forced march doesn't actually involve a particularly fast pace; it's certainly not as fast as running. This is because it would consume a lot of energy, and it's easy for people to fall behind.

But the orders coming from above were becoming increasingly urgent.

They have advanced more than ten kilometers in one go without resting. They are in good condition now and can hold on, but this will definitely not last long.

Even the most oblivious person would notice something was wrong; such an unusual order often meant that the situation was extremely urgent.

Either there are friendly forces ahead that need immediate support, or there are insurmountable enemies behind.

The former can only be verified by those with inside information, but the latter can be seen simply by turning around.

As a result, more and more soldiers discovered the white mist chasing after them.

The White Mist, the North, and the Exiles—these factors combined provide a readily available answer.

White disaster.

Now the soldiers had no more doubts about the orders, and no one complained about why they weren't allowed to rest. They just wished they had more legs or more wheels.

But the next order confused them.

"Turn around and fire? Sir, are you sure?"

A soldier jogged along, asking the question with a puzzled expression.

"Yes, but we'll have to wait a bit. You can adjust the rear sight up—to the highest setting. There's no rush to load the bullets, but be careful while running to avoid accidental discharge." The resistance's bolt-action rifles all have iron sights. With the rear sight adjusted to the highest setting, it's a full 1,300 yards. At that distance, let alone ordinary people, even superhumans would find it difficult to aim. In fact, anything over 800 yards is almost the limit for accurate shooting. The soldiers have never pushed the rear sight up that high before.

"No problem, sir. Of course we will carry out orders. But I have some doubts. Will firing bullets at the White Disaster really be effective? It's just a cloud of mist. The newly added entry in the Holy Scripture also states that no weapon can stop the White Disaster!"

"Just fire. We don't have that many bullets, and Lord Ash won't waste them."

The name Ash successfully silenced the soldiers. The worship of equivalent weight was rampant in the Faith Guard, and this practice spread to the Expeditionary Force. In a sense, the name Ash was synonymous with equivalent weight.

Although Hodge was the company commander, people seemed to have temporarily forgotten about it.
After running a short distance, Ash's cold voice suddenly rang out from above the warriors:
"Halt and prepare to fire! Aim at the white fog at six o'clock directly behind you and fire five rounds of free fire, then continue marching!"

Upon hearing this, the soldiers stopped. They had already prepared and changed their formation; now they could simply turn around, release the safety, and fire.

Five rounds are exactly the amount of one magazine, which is also the limit for continuous firing of a bolt-action rifle. Although it can be quickly reloaded with a magazine, the expeditionary force is short of time at this moment, so they will fire five rounds first to see the effect.

The expeditionary force was having some difficulty aiming, and they were all panting heavily. Fortunately, they were carrying very little weight, so they were not about to give up.

Pulling the trigger and pulling the bolt, the slightly trembling hand quickly fired five bullets. The expeditionary force had no time to rest and could only turn around and jog forward again.

Ash, however, remained rooted to the spot, gazing at the approaching skeletons behind her.

"How is it? Is it working?"

Hodge was already drenched in cold sweat. The skeleton was only a little over a thousand yards away, but there was still no sign of the train appearing. If the shooting didn't work—

With trembling hands, Hodge pulled out a steel plaque bearing his name and basic information. If he couldn't escape, he'd let Ash hang it on the memorial stone at the top of Castel Cathedral.

"effective."

Ash's voice was indifferent as ice, devoid of any emotion, but Hodge felt as if the midday sun had warmed his already cold body.

"The shooting accuracy wasn't high, but the coverage was pretty good. The momentum of that group of skeletons has been stopped, and even the fog has slowed down. It seems I don't need to take action."

As Ash spoke, she slowly hung the heavy machine gun she was holding back on the armor rack.

Although they brought a considerable amount of ammunition for the heavy machine gun, it was far more precious than that for bolt-action rifles, so every little bit saved was precious.

“Great, great”

Hodge looked like he had narrowly escaped death. The skeletons were chasing him too fast, giving them no chance to catch their breath. If this continued, it was only a matter of time before they were dragged to their deaths.

Fortunately, they couldn't withstand bullets.

Out of caution, the expeditionary force did not stop but continued to march forward. Soon, bad news came again.

“Those skeletons are catching up again,” Ash suddenly said.

"What!?"

Hodge was taken aback, but forced himself to calm down and tried to analyze the situation: "The shooting just now probably only took down the skeletons in the front row. The skeletons behind them continued to chase after us. It's okay, as long as we keep firing, Ash, there aren't many of them, are there?"

"Not many, just a little larger than ours."

(End of this chapter)