Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 762 You are as ridiculous as your bunker

The scout in the distance was clearly a veteran, skillfully using feints to mislead the direction of the enemy's arrows. By the time Galahad calmly set up his machine gun, the scout had already run quite a distance.

Only then did he have time to turn around.

The scout saw Galahad fiddling with something in his hand. It was too far away to see clearly, but it must have been some kind of long-range weapon.

At this distance, there is no threat from a bow and arrow. It would take several seconds for the arrow to fly over, enough time for him to see it and dodge.

While muskets could theoretically reach this point, in reality it's practically impossible.

Strictly speaking, muskets are close-range weapons. Beyond fifty meters, bullets start to fly erratically, and beyond one hundred meters, it is almost impossible to hit them. Right now, the scout is at least two hundred meters away from there.

The probability of hitting him is about the same as the probability of him tripping and falling to his death.

But the scouts cautiously hid behind a few bricks.

This place may have been a decent house before, but it has long been reduced to ruins after years of war, and now it serves as a shelter.

The scout cautiously poked his head out and discovered that Galahad had already aimed in their direction, and the dark barrel of his gun began to spin.

The scout grinned. At this distance, were they really going to open fire?

He pulled his head back, leaned against the brick wall, and took a cigarette out of his pocket and put it in his mouth.

Since I can't hit him anyway, I might as well take a break and catch my breath.

He checked his pockets again, but there was no fire.

Somewhat annoyed, he took the cigarette away. Just as the scout was about to curse, a beam of light suddenly shone down.

Light?
He looked up and noticed that a hole had appeared in the brick wall above him, allowing sunlight to stream through. The dust it stirred up transformed the light into beams of light, creating a beautiful sight.

The next moment, a hail of bullets tore him and his bunker to shreds.

After a while, a pair of boots with steel toes collapsed onto the ruins.

There are hardly any brick walls left here; under the barrage of heavy machine gun fire, it's as fragile as a piece of paper.

The scout was gone, leaving only a pile of reddish slag mixed in with the ruins, which could only be dug out with a shovel.

A lit cigarette burned quietly among the rubble, then a boot stepped on it, crushed it, and extinguished the flame.

"It's time to move, Your Majesty. The gunfire here will attract the enemy."

Isabella nodded, her gaze fixed intently on the enemy forces in the distance, her expression serious.

"Galahad, what do you think?"

Galahad lifted his boots, wiped the ash from his cigarette on the ground, and then respectfully spoke: "I believe the Vatican received some intelligence from our side and chose to retreat out of fear of our firepower."

Isabella slowly shook her head.

“Galahad, do you know why I came here in person? It’s because the Vatican will never back down out of fear.”

"Do you remember the investigators from the North? That's the style of the Holy See: if you can't win, send more people to fight; if the enemy is strong, make your own side strong enough as well."

"If the Vatican discovers that we have more powerful firepower and more advanced weapons, they will only send more people to the battlefield instead of choosing to leave."

"In fact, this is almost the first time I have seen the Vatican back down on its own initiative."

Galahad was taken aback by what he heard. Avoiding direct confrontation is a perfectly normal choice on the battlefield, but upon closer reflection, it certainly didn't seem to be in line with the Vatican's style.

In the North, the investigators suffered considerable losses, but the Holy See stubbornly continued to send superhumans over. The old woman managed to get quite a few kills with her two dragon breath cannons.

Even earlier, when Isabella was still a prince, she achieved some victories on the battlefield in Tiss despite being outnumbered.

At that time, the Papacy's choice was to immediately send troops to reinforce the front lines, or at the very least, maintain a balance of power.

The Principality of Tiss was also forced to escalate its efforts, resulting in a stalemate on the front lines. Both sides were trying to maintain the status quo and had little strength left to launch an attack.

Thinking about it this way, the Vatican's comprehensive contraction does indeed seem rather strange.

“Since I started the formal offensive, there have been almost no opportunities to engage in battle. The Papacy has been retreating all the way, giving up a lot of land, which is not normal.” Isabella pursed her lips and lowered her head to think.

"Could it be related to the newly appointed pope?"

The fact that Jules had become the Pope of the Candlelight Vigil was already widely known.

Interestingly, Jules's style in many matters was completely different from that of the Vatican in the past.

For example, the current strategy of comprehensively shrinking the battle lines and avoiding battle as much as possible has resulted in the army of the Duchy of Tis advancing all the way without engaging in any combat.

For example, when Jules began to promote the use of firearms in the Papacy's army, Isabella was stunned for a long time when she heard that priests were firing firearms at the front.

Previously, she had to fight with the Papacy for a long time to build a musket factory, but now that Jules has come to power, everything has changed.
Isabella had a strange thought: if she hadn't faked her death and escaped, would she now be working with Jules to fight Castel?
“Look at their retreat formation, it’s orderly and there’s no panic at all. This was planned in advance. They didn’t receive orders to retreat on short notice; they were prepared to retreat from the beginning!” Isabella took a deep breath.

This Jules is not easy to deal with.

If it were the old Candlelight Society, which relied solely on overwhelming strength, it would have been much easier to defeat them.

At least knowing the enemy's countermeasures makes it easy to counter them.

But Jules now
Isabella couldn't quite figure out what he was up to.

Surrender like Archduke Alvarez? Probably not. Such an orderly evacuation must have been planned.

Isabella narrowed her eyes and suddenly spoke: "Galahad, organize the cavalry, let's charge together."

"Charge?" Galahad stopped in surprise, but then nodded: "I'll arrange it immediately!"

A few minutes later, the cavalrymen were ready—they were Isabella's personal guards, who had been nearby preparing for battle, even wearing their armor.

Isabella, with the help of her attendants, put on her armor and glanced back at the knights behind her.

Her personal guards numbered over seventy, all in good condition and well-equipped.

Everyone carried a bolt-action rifle, but apart from Galahad, they had no heavy firepower, since not everyone could carry a heavy machine gun.

This group of guards was definitely elite, but the opposing army numbered at least a thousand. Charging into their ranks would mean certain death.

But Galahad neither asked nor questioned, for standing before him was Isabella, the restorer of the Holy Mir Empire, the Empress who had led them to victory countless times.

The knights lined up in battle formation.

(Thinking about whether to create a reader group)

(End of this chapter)