Before he can even cry out a warning, Olivier fires, thankfully Bertrand was mistaken about where he was aiming, with the ray going well over their heads.

While turning around to see what Olivier was shooting, Bertrand lefts up his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, getting a bit of dirt on his shiny forehead in the process.

Expecting to see some grenadiers being forced back by the deadly ray, he was instead unnerved to find another horde of madmen, just as raggedly as the first group charging towards them from behind the cover of one of the last bits of forest before it all turned into hills, some hundred yards away.

Olivier’s aim was slightly off, but with a slight adjustment, the beam started to cut through the leading madmen like a hot knife through butter. Entrails spilling out and scattering everywhere in bloody hunks while fragments of bone went flying up into the air.

It was a horrifying sight, but what was even more horrifying was that once they got knocked over, riddled with holes and missing entire bones, they proceeded to get back up and go right back to charging them.

“Shit.” Francois growled, unslinging their beam and quickly taking aim well Bertrand was still struggling with his. Guess that was the difference between actual combat experience Bertrand thought.

Césaire had also got his beamer unslung and was aiming down its wooden sights.

And just as Bertrand was finally holding his beamer steady and preparing to shoot the duo was firing.

Two more deadly beams raced out to join Olivier’s, cleaving limbs and drilling through bodies like woodpeckers at a tree.

A heartbeat later Bertrand was firing alongside them, urging the mana cube’s mana through his mana vein and into the beamer to be used as fuel for the devastating ray.

One second passed, then two, then three, then four and still, they kept coming, getting knocked down and losing organs from the force and cutting power of the beams, but still getting up.

A few of the madmen lay unresponsive, slowly sliding down the hill they had been climbing up in their charge but most of them still kept running at the trio.

And then a problem arose, the mana cubes were out of mana. With a splutter Olivier’s beam disappeared, followed shortly after by Francois’s and Césaire’s, then finally Bertrand's.

Bertrand’s mana vein was also damaged, engorged from the mana that had been fed through it, Bertrand would need to focus and restabilise the connection between the vein and the cube before he could swap the cube out for another one, otherwise the vein might burst when he tried reconnecting it to his spare mana cubes.

Before he could even get the chance to do this though Césaire slapped him on the shoulder, hard. “MOVE.” they growled out.

Francois was already gone, rushing up the hill with renewed vigour and so without any time to reload, Bertrand stormed up the hill alongside Césaire trying to reach the command post before the small horde reached them.

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A hundred yards might seem like a lot of distance but to Bertrand it felt more like only ten, running for your life really gave you a whole new perspective on distance.

Huffing and puffing and with no time to wipe the newly emerged sweet on his brow Bertrand felt like he was in hell.

Holy Seer maybe there was some truth behind Olivier’s raving about the end of days.

With a whine the dirt to his left erupts, broken weeds flying up into the sky as Olivier’s beam races past, scorching a trail across the hill. Hopefully slowing down their pursuers in the process.

Even though he shouldn't, Bertrand glanced behind him, letting out a gasp of shock as he spotted someone with a beamer slung over their back.

Taking a closer look at them he felt bewildered when he realised that the man with the beamer was Pierre, they should be safe back in the medical waggon.

Almost tripping, his attention is swiftly drawn back to the ground in front of him. Drawing every last smidgeon of willpower and energy he had into his legs he powered forwards, he just had to get up the hill in front of him, then there was just one more after this one and then they would finally be at the command post.

With a shudder Olivier’s beam disappeared, Olivier having cut it off before it ran out of power forcing him to reload.

Even as Olivier’s beam vanished though another two filled in for it. Looking up Bertrand saw another two skirmishers at the top of the hill reinforcing them. As well as a dozen of what could only be light infantry, as they carefully trained their guns downward.

They were just a few yards ahead of him now, he was so close, Francois and Césaire were already at the top, hurriedly reloading their beamers.

With a pant, Bertrand hurled himself up beside his comrades, for a brief second kneeling over before he snapped out of it and started to pick out the mana cube with sweaty and shaky fingers.

Having little luck and hearing the signature pop of the Busken muskets from the light infantry, he wipes his hands on his tunic, adding even more sweat stains to it. Before grasping the mana cube and ripping it roughly out of the beamer.

Then grasping inside the pouch on his hip for a mana cube, he finds what he;’s looking for and hurriedly brings it out and stuffs it into the small opening on his gun.

Letting out a relieved sigh he turns around catching a glimpse of the shocked faces of the light infantry before he leans forward looking downwards towards the horde.

They were a mess, many of them missing arms or legs and with shredded skin covering them, almost like rags. Not to mention that a solid half of them had gaping holes in their torsos.

It was exactly what he expected the denizens of hell to look like. With every second that passed gazing at this brutal scene, he was becoming more and more convinced that Olivier was actually the one who was right instead of Césaire.

Almost wanting to close his eyes, he lifted up his beamer and looked over to Césaire and Francois, who both gave him a solemn nod.

With the loud gulp of one of the light infantrymen acting like a signal, they fire. Scathing rays of light sweeping through the few madmen that still stood. Cutting them down like wheat before a farmer's scythe.

Even still though, after twelve seconds had passed and their beamers ran out of power, one of the madmen lived. Like some cruel joke from fate, it was Pierre. Inching themselves forwards with their fingernails as they had no legs to stand upon.

After a few seconds, one final beam shot forth. Obliterating his skull and ending his suffering.

“May his soul find peace amongst the Holy Seer’s haven.” Olivier said.

For a breath moment, all was silent. Everyone paying their respects to the dead man, then Francois set off, intent on crossing the final hill and delivering his report. Césaire tagging alongside him, turning around briefly to gesture at Bertrand to follow.

With some slight hesitation, Bertrand started to trail after them. He was certainly not looking forward to what was coming.

Officers were notoriously difficult to deal with, the concept of no retreat and no quarter given having been drilled into them almost as much as the concept of adaptability and resilience had been imprinted onto the skirmishers.