A gun.

A pistol.

A simple order.

“No.”

The response took its time to fill the air, being immediately swapped with silence, not even footsteps could be heard. Richardson looked at the Wood Elf, unsure if he heard it right that a slave was refusing an order, even if it didn't come from the owner. The Rune in his neck was bound to the Foreman but still, an order to a slave is like a commandment, it should be followed. Connor refusing to do such an order is an act of defiance, no excuses.

Yuri grimaced at what it was to come, and so did Donovan and Zagul. The Lacerta even more because he did refuse an order, well, lots of orders when he was in his early slave years, so what would happen next was not pleasant. Who could blame him? He was told to kill a subdued and willing captive, of course he is going to refuse it. But putting that aside, it was noticeable why Connor was not complying with it, and it was not the order itself, but the tool being used to do so.

“What did you say, slave?”, McTavish said with a hint of surprised annoyance, not enjoying being told “no”.

“I won't do it. Do it yourself. It's your problem after all.”, Connor said as he still looked at the pistol in his hand.

“Ha!”, The idea of a Slave telling someone to do… anything was hilarious to the Pirate, “I won't take orders from a man who can't even look at my face! Much less a slave!”

The other pirates and even some marines started laughing, while some of the slaves had a somber expression, dreading what was to come. Neuge himself couldn't find any light in this situation because he was either spared by a slave or killed by him and he couldn't decide which was worse. He looked at the slave, a species he's never seen before, but it surely looks like an Elf. He trembled at the sight of the gun but still managed to show some amount of defiance.

“Connor.”, Richardson called, “Kill the bird man. That's an order.”

“I am not— Gah!”

Before he could even finish the sentence, his throat clenched, the Rune taking effect, way stronger than it did when he punched those guards before he became a fighter. The feeling of squeeze, the oxygen not reaching where it needed as well as the bloodstream being interrupted, it all accumulated over the next few seconds. Connor's eyes wanted to pop out of his head, his lungs and heart desperately trying to work and keep the body awake somehow. He fell to his knees, putting a hand on his neck, trying everything he could to lessen the grip the Rune had, but to no avail. It was way worse than when he was shot by Carlos, the insufferable pain causing his mind to think of every possible outcome for his survival, racing to find a solution before the unwanted end.

“The order remains. Kill him, now.”, The Foreman said with authority, his ever present smile finally leaving his lips.

“N-n-nnmmmgghh!”, Connor tried to speak, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't.

Yuri clenched his fist. The scene was just like the raid in his village when the colonizers first arrived, marking the elders and taking the women and children. He managed to make his family escape and prays they are alright to this day. But this… It was just like that day when a patriarch would refuse to tell where his family was and payed the price for it, usually his life. The Aborigine couldn't intervene even if he wanted to, thanks to the fact that the same rune is in his own neck.

Donovan could only remember the first time it happened with him, the moment he refused to help a man of the church he once served because he abused of minorities, using them for his own benefit instead of the benefit of the many. He didn't even wanted to serve Orïvah Weerling at the time thanks to this very poor first impression, but they'd only remove the Rune when the requirements were met. And to meet them, he'd need to go against his old beliefs and laws. Which begs the question: Was he really on the good side if they treated him like that from the beginning?

Zagul didn't understand the Elf. He could make incredible claims and do amazing feats, defeating a noble in his own game, adapting to a new fighting style in just two weeks while still injured, and winning against someone who uses blessings, but he just did a full stop when he held a gun. Connor is fierce, stupid, sometimes clever and most importantly, bold. But now he wasn't the man the Lacerta could call courageous, but a recruit who dreamed to be a hero in war just to want to be home in a safe place. What happened for him to just not want to be near fire weapons?

Connor endured as best as everyone watched, some with disdain, others with apprehension and a few with a smile. Even with this amount of pain, he was not going to kill the enemy captain, he was not going to hold that gun, not even if it took his life. He fell to the ground, the Rune tightening even more as he reaffirmed his position on the order given, now his nostrils and eyelids flooded with mucus and blood. The Wood Elf pinged the ground, his mind trying to lash out at the frustration of the situation. Not even Hughes focusing solely on the Rune he managed to lessen the pain, even if just a bit. The efforts of resistance of the Twinsouls being just a small protest to the power the rune has.

*BANG*

The shot hitted Captain Mitt in the forehead, making everyone panic, even Richardson who was still focused on the rune made sure to duck for cover. The slaves, marines and pirates separated like a sack of potatoes being dropped on the floor, each one with his own best idea for positioning. Neuge was dragged alongside McTavish because he knew the Light Heavens weren't all dead, making the enemy captain now a hostage. Connor was still agonizing on the ground, but no one would even consider going near him, except for the usual suspects. Even so, the slaves couldn't just run at him and pull him over because the Sharpshooter Trap still works against them. Mitt was just the unfortunate man who got killed first, or maybe the lucky bastard who wasn't going to see it.

Sam on the other hand, just put a new bullet on the barrel as he gleefully prepared for the next shot, aiming at a stupid little marine who happened to be near one of the many traps they've put on the Forest. Maybe he is going to thank Neuge for his plan if he ever comes out of this alive. Or maybe not. Regardless, he pointed his sight towards the explosive trap and shot just as the marine got close enough, the bullet passing the leaves and just missing the marine as it hit the explosive. The onslaught that ensued after was a glorious sight for the Human Sharpshooter who witnessed a bunch of body parts flying around as the blood painted a beautiful canvas on the trees. As per his plan, he immediately switched places as he jumped around the trees, the foot soldiers that were left of the previous animal attack (who barely survived thanks to Sam) decided to offer suppressing fire at the enemy forces, some hitting the unlucky man who for some God knows reason didn't lay down as the bullets cê through.

“Alright! Connor, forget the order!”, Richardson screamed behind cover, “Just get cover!”

The Rune deactivated immediately, allowing the Wood Elf to breathe normally. He never imagined how grateful he'd be to be able to breathe easily again, but the damage was done. He couldn't just run for cover since he was out of breath and Hughes doesn't offer a stamina or adrenaline rush. With pained difficulty, he crawled away from the shots, trying his best to not get noticed, even covering himself with some mud of the ground for camouflage.

Sam could foresee the enemy maneuvers, so he quickly ordered the rest of the troops who were not so happy under Neuge's leadership to do a Pincer Movement. The Sharpshooter would draw enemy attention while the wings would move in an oblique way, flaking the enemies from each side. With another shot of his rifle, he almost killed Richardson, shooting his shoulder, the pieces of flesh and blood splashing the moist ground. The Foreman could only grunt on pain as he was only grateful that Fynsell wasn't here to witness this unpredictable environment.

The wings of soldiers successfully moved to the flanks, unloading a barrage of gunpowder with their muskets, hitting many pirates of the Mitt crew who were in complete disarray thanks to said Captain being killed. They relied too much on his leadership and orders. With his absence, they are easy targets to hit, and the enemy proved that point by killing a dozen of clueless troops. McTavish frowned but grinned at the same time, since this was the most challenging fight he had been for a good time, but it was also one of the most costly. Even if it wasn't to himself, it was to his so-called allies, and comrades dying is never a good thing.

As the first flank reloaded their muskets, the second fired theirs, hitting a few of the Eldorian Sailors. A few casualties and a lot of wounded. Surrounded, they had few options. They can't rush the enemy because despite the woods offering a good cover thanks to the terrain, it also works for them, not to mention that they wanted to draw them to the forest so they probably know more of the field than they ever will at this point. Zhivko didn't have any strategies for ground warfare and Richardson was already fuming with rage, so asking him anything was a lost cause from the get go. None of the slaves could do much, especially Connor who was slowly crawling near cover, doing his absolute best to not get detected.

“Alright lads! Push forward!”, Sam ordered as he reloaded his gun, “We have them trapped! Throw the explosives!”

The first squad fired their muskets while the second approached with explosives in hand. They ignited the devices and used all their arm's strength to throw the thing near the enemy position, the ensuing booms echoing in the battlefield. It was a massacre, losses from the three forces could be counted, Mitt's pirates suffering greatly being reduced to under ten men. Another set of shots from the distance and even more losses, Sam laughing all the way, rejoicing the pain and suffering that he was causing. Who cares that Neuge is still with them? They are winning! All that without the overplanned bullshit that the bird cunt would do. A simple win is still a win after all.

Neuge himself was impressed and terrified with what Sam was doing. He managed to pin McTavish to a point that he was cornered from every direction, taking damage to his forces no matter the plan he had in mind. But even still, the Dragonkin still smiled at the situation which concerned him. Was he going to do something in this precarious endeavor? If so, what could he do? They entered an unfavorable place with unfavorable tactics, even with the clever use of the meats they catapulted in the woods, it was still a losing battle. The thought of it still lingered: what will he do?

“I have a bad feeling about this.”, Neuge whispered.

McTavish got up and opened the palm of his hand.

“What are you doing?! Get down!”, Zagul shouted.

“I am evening the odds.”

A low light appeared in his hand, orange in nature and white in the outside, the dirt, air and aura around the man exudes a sense of control and calmness. The palm slowly closed as a butt of the gun appeared, tightening the grip, the continuous formation of what appeared to be a gun slowly creating itself in his hand. With a deep breath he pointed the thing towards the first flank of the soldier, as soon as he pulled the trigger, the thing finished building itself, shooting something powerful, because the sound was deafening.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

*BOOOOOOOM*

Connor saw the explosion, way more powerful than the ones from before, which forced him to cover his knife-ears or risk damaging them. He saw the gun forming in his hand and he clearly knew what it was: A makeshift grenade launcher, with the difference that it shot bananas of dynamite. It killed almost the entire squad that was offering suppressive fire, almost killithe Sharpshooter too. The Wood Elf immediately felt anger as to why McTavish just didn't use it before, but also, another thing had struck him that was way more shocking than the fact that he just summoned an explosion launcher. That was magic.

Actual magic.

He doesn't exactly know the classifications of magic in this world, only that it exists and not everybody can use them. But he knows that this kind of magic would no way be permitted without supervision or authorization. Unless the laws never addressed such a problem, which quite honestly wouldn't surprise him. In all seriousness, the fact he can do something like this means the Pirate is powerful, so this is going to be either a massacre of the enemy and they can go home, or they'd answer in a similar fashion. And with Connor's luck or lack thereof, the latter is probably what's going to happen.

“He is a Caster!”, Donovan said in awe.

“Dude, you are so fucked right now!”, Yuri shouted in excitement. Or maybe relief.

“A Caster?!”, Richardson feared the man beside him.

“Don't stop the attack! Keep pushing!”, A Pirate said to the surviving troops, “Open fire!”

Before they could fire the muskets, McTavish had already transformed the launcher into a bolt action rifle with increased fire rate, shooting the enemy squad with ease. One was shot in the heart, another in between his eyes and one was shot in the balls (for shits and giggles) then shot in the head.

“Where are you, Sharpshooter?”, He asked as he shot even more pirates, “You caused this. Better appear before it's too late!”

Sam obliged, rushing from above, rifle already in his face. The tip of the rifle almost touched his forehead, the finger already in the trigger while the other hand had a dynamite already lit. The boy was either willing to bring everything and everyone with him or he had an insane plan to get him out of this situation. Unfortunately for him, McTavish wasn't giving a flying fuck to what plan the boy has as he grabbed both the barrel and the hand with the explosive, immediately using his magic to neutralize the oxygen near them, making the dynamite’s wick stop burning. Not to mention forcing Sam to stop breathing.

McTavish headbutted him, the skull to skull attack leaving Sam dazed as the oxygen came back to their surroundings. Even dazed, the rifle never left his hand and his gaze was never out of resolve, with the Pirate smiling eagerly to the next fight. The marines and pirates took this moment to kill the last remaining Light Heavens, firing their last needed bullets of the muskets, making their excellent Sharpshooter the last member of the Pirate clan, except for Neuge. After dispatching of the pirates, everyone waited in a very safe distance, because no one was going near a fight between a Caster and someone else crazy enough to fight them.

“An Artificer.”, Sam commented, “Never thought I'd see a Caster in my life.”

“Be proud of yourself.”, McTavish said as he crossed his arms, “Most people don't get to see my abilities. And not a single one lived to tell the tale when they fought me.”

“There is always room for an update.”, Sam prepared a bullet in his rifle and pointed at the Pirate Captain, “After all, I am something of an Alchemist myself.”

*BANG*

The trigger ignited a different response from the rifle, the usual explosion after shooting a bullet shining differently. Instead of the usual yellow-black flare accompanied by smoke powder, the bullet shot a green flame that seemed to despise everything that it existed, the air immediately opening way for the bullet as it didn't want to get near the projectile. The gun sprouted vines from itself who quickly retracted. McTavish almost raised a brow in surprise as it traveled not to himself but to the ground that he was standing in. The bullet lodged itself on the dirt and for a few seconds, nothing happened, until a rambling and crunching sound started, prompting the Pirate to use his magic to propel himself upwards to some tree.

Creatures reminiscent of leaves literally sprouted out of the ground, three in total. They looked like an amalgamation of leaves, branches and flowers of various colors, and they seemed to be starving for blood. McTavish looked at this creation if it even can be called that with minor curiosity, a spell that created life with a tool that took them. Call it poetic irony or something, but as the creatures got near Sam, he instructed them to kill the Pirate Captain without hesitation. He jumped down the branch, summoning himself an ax as he fell down, ready to chop some tree looking monsters. Sam took the opportunity to reload his rifle, putting another bullet inside, this time the gun shining an orange hue in magma like patterns.

The creatures divided themselves in three directions, aiming to attack from each flank as they positioned themselves. McTavish was fine with that as he rushed forward his first victim, swinging the ax as fast as he could with the intent to cut the monster in half. It quickly dodged as another clawed his ribs, even if slightly thanks to his reflexes. He tried to attack the second, but needed to duck a bullet that Sam fired, a bullet that he exploded in the distance as it missed him, the air becoming increasingly hot for some reason. The third tried to pounce him from the back, but the Pirate quickly used his tool as a shield, deflecting the attack, this time using a stone pillar to kill the first of the creatures.

“Need to be mindful of my Éter reserves.”, McTavish thought analytically.

Sam was giving the Pirate a hard time, since despite the lack of following orders, he was still planning his next moves with a large smile on his face from ear to ear. If it's true that he is an Alchemist, then he prepared the special bullets and other things beforehand since this class of Magic Sensitives rarely use their Éter in combat, making this way harder for McTavish, not that he was going to complain, of course. It was a bother? Sure, but not one he couldn't handle.

Connor could only watch as the fight progressed, the speed, power, stakes and overall weight of this fight was way higher than he could ever achieve right now and this made him frustrated. He worked hard until now, but looking at this fight it seems his progress was just… in vain. Not to mention the fact that he is dependent on the exact person who he hates the most right now to get out of this battlefield alive. The absurdity of this made him grit his teeth in anger, not to the man but at himself. Then a doubt arose in his head: Has he really changed his way of living? Has he in any way stopped being reliant on people? Did he conquer something, achieved a goal or learned a lesson with his own effort?

Is he doing enough?

*BANG*

*BOOOM*

The shockwave of the bullet was way closer than anyone would like as Sam shot a point blank explosive bullet at the ground. There is not only monster alongside the Sharpshooter as McTavish beheaded the other with his ax, a shield making himself present in the pirate's offhand, probably because of the explosions since no one is going to not have protection in this kind of situation.

“You are a clever man, I admit it.”, McTavish said as he cracked his knuckles, warming up his joints, “But you are still too green for warfare it seems.”

“Says the fool who can't leave the stalemate.”, Sam snickered.

The slaves were watching the fight with awe, not even Zagul having this close of a look in between the mid table of the Magic Raking. The Caster with the Highest control against a Magic Sensitive with the highest power.

“You seem to not understand the gravity of this situation.”

A very similar looking rifle was immediately constructed in McTavish's hands as he pointed the barrel at Sam, pulling the trigger. However it wasn't a bullet that came out, mostly because the gun wasn't even loaded, but a small metallic can, which the Sharpshooter shot on reflex. Much to his annoyance, the can was filled with a yellow gas that he did not want to breathe, so he quickly searched for materials on the soldiers he killed. Soon enough he found out a few components to make a basic gas mask and started using his Alchemy abilities.

The problem was that Sam wasn't a specialist in tactical gear, only gunnery and weapons. The mask would work but only just, making it unreliable in the long run. Bullets? Hulls for wagons? Weapons in general? Explosions? He could do this for hours in and out, but he wasn't as effective in any other areas. This mask would do for now, but against an Artificer who can create things from nothing? He was at a disadvantage, but he could improvise.

The Pirate shot at the cloud of gas some more, this time an explosive round that would keep burning even in the moist ground. It proved to bear fruits as he heard running from his left and some tree noises too. A shot was prevented by a wall of stone he quickly produced, showing that Sam was at a high ground right now. It doesn't matter really, because as soon as the Sharpshooter is spotted he is done for. A few blind shots here and there and a few trees falling down with McTavish jokingly saying “Timber!” as the gas dissipated was enough to show that… the kid was nowhere to be seen.

“Come out of hiding! This is not how men fight!”

“How do you even know that?! You fight using a fucking grenade launcher!”, Connor thought as he finally got to a somewhat safe distance from the fight.

Not near Richardson and the others, but still, safe.

*RUMBLING*

The ground beneath McTavish collapsed as a hole surfaced with a very angry mask pointing a different gun, but still akin to the previous rifle Sam was using. The sparkling of the Alchemy Spell still lingering on the air and the gun as the musket on the Sharpshooter’s back was considerably smaller. He shot the gun, the bullet turning into hundreds of small fragments as the very unique and undistinguishable sound that followed it made itself known. The Pirate took the shot whole to his chest, the body flying past the trees and landing by a understandably frightened Connor who just stumbled backwards in shock. Sam cocked his gun, ejecting the cartridge that was hard to mistake, which left the Elf in awe.

McTavish took a shot of a shotgun to the chest and somehow was still alive. The man looked at the Elf, crafting a pistol and sliding it across the ground all the way to Connor's feet. He took it out of his survival instinct and immediately went for cover away from the Pirate. Sam took his time to stroll his way towards the future corpse, whistling a tune as he could call this a success.

Sure everyone died of the Light Heavens, but that's a technicality.

“I must admit, kid.”, McTavish coughed a bit of blood, his smirk painted with red, “You are a clever motherfucker.”

“I know.”, Sam said as he removed his mask, “I love my job and I am good at it. I basically mixed the useful with the pleasant.”

“Never heard that before, but it sounds correct.”, He said as he painfully forced himself to sit up, leaning his back on a tree.

*BANG*

“That it is.”

Sam didn't waste time in blasting the entire gray matter of the pirate's skull on the forest. Everyone was disheartened by the scene, a Magic Sensitive killing a Caster with a dangerous yet effective strategy, misleading the Pirate and attacking from bellow. The Sharpshooter turned his rifle back to its original form as he took this time to just relax. Connor looked at the headless corpse with mixed feelings. He doesn't feel bad for the guy dying. Hell, he was abusing women when they first met. Yet dying like that? Powerless to stop even with the magic to do everything he wanted? That hit him a bit.

McTavish gave Connor of all people a gun.

Why?

But that's another problem. Now they have to deal with a guy that killed a Caster with a reduced army. But they would? No one has any bit of morale right now, especially the Dragonkin as they just saw their captain die. Richardson was also unsure of what they should do and the slaves couldn't do much against a Magic Sensitive. The tension in the battlefield was palpable. Murmurs of dissent spread like wildfire, and the once united group now seemed on the verge of fracture. The Dragonkin huddled together, their usual fierce confidence replaced by uncertain glances and hushed whispers. Without their captain, they felt leaderless and vulnerable.

Sam, oblivious to the brewing discord, wiped the sweat from his brow—

*CRACK*

A punch.

Not by Connor, but from someone else entirely.

Jay’Ky Latoor punched Sam as hard as he could, now unsheathing his two blades as he prepared for the fight.

“C'mon little bastard! This Magna here is ready for battle!”