It was the first real attack on the trip. It seemed like we would have to be on high alert from now on.

I scrambled around a bit, as my entire bunk room was flooded with bodies. Because of that, despite the urgency, I waited for about half a minute as everyone got out of the way.

When I was finally allowed to step out of my bunk, I headed straight for my turret. I always wore my coat since it was my greatest form of protection, especially on this dangerous trip, so I didn’t need to equip it. Instead, I merely threw on my gloves and air mask before climbing into the little pillbox.

From that vantage point, I was able to look around. The convoy stopped rolling after being intercepted. It seemed the enemies had prepared an ambush and managed to bring us to a halt.

Not unlike us, they had vehicles of their own. They were small cars that had slammed into the vehicles in front of us, forcing us to stop. And from the safety behind these cars, warlocks launched spells while others ran over and tried to raid.

Suddenly, I saw a bright fireball headed for me. I suddenly ducked, and my head was graced with a bit of warm as a few tongues of flame flickered through the window before fading.

As I rose back up, I contacted the dimension of my Authority.

I found what I wanted, a rifle that looked somewhat similar to all the others with its wooden body, but holding a few key differences that made it a unique spirit.

When I grabbed it, its memories flooded into me. This time, it was much smoother and more brief than the first time I had communed with it.

Memories of a marksman from the American Frontier. He wasn’t known for his quick draw or skill with a pistol. Instead, he was known for his long range shots.

And he was made capable by the rifle in his hands, one of the first of its kind, potentially the progenitor to an entire line of an extremely popular modern weapon configuration.

The sniper rifle.

Of course, it could barely be considered such.

The rifle was specifically known as the Remington-Lee. It was the first rifle to utilize a box magazine and was a bolt-action rifle.

The man in the memories had fought in the Spanish-American War and later attained this rifle prvately after retiring from service. The rifle was then modified to mount a telescopic sight, technically making it a sniper rifle.

And it was used as such. It was precisely tuned until he could reliably hit human-shaped targets at upwards of 250 meters away. He even opted for the heavy .45-70 Gov, allowing the rifle to pack enough punch to hunt even large game like bison.

In the end, this rifle was heavily modified from its original factory configuration. It wasn’t a well known rifle and came from a time before the firearm reovlutions of the Great War, but compared to the other rifles I could attain, this one was no doubt the best, especially at a range.

I mounted this rifle on the window of the turret box, taking aim at the targets near the front of the convoy. They weren’t more than 70 meters away, so I didn’t have to adjust my aim as many would need to do with the slow .45-70.

I placed the crosshair of my sight over the body of a Warlock casting magic from the roof of a vehicle. At the same time, I faintly recognized the markings of the Clockwork Association.

*BANG*

I pulled the trigger, and despite aiming at the warlock’s head, it was his chest that let out a violent puff of red.

He colapsed at the same time, slumping off the vehicle. After that, racked another round, finding another target.

My primary targets were the warlocks casting magic. Normally they couldn’t be easily touched since they often cast magic barriers to combat incoming spells and Knights had to close distance to harm them. And since bowmen were outclassed by warlocks, they basically didn’t exist.

But I defied all conventional notions of combat, being able to fire small projectiles at extreme speeds. These bullets were masterful at piercing magic barriers because of their size and instantaneous power, and so long as that happened, the warlock behind it would surely die with their soft, fleshy bodies.

However occasionally, there were some warlocks that wore garments with sufficient protective measures to stop a bullet. While shooting, I managed to find three of such warlocks.

Unfortunately, these warlocks still died. It wasn’t because their gear was lacking, but because it simply didn’t cover their head. They never wore armor like Knights so their heads were normally exposed. This allowed me to simply place a bullet between their brows, even if I had already shot them.

I found the opportunities to do so after they walked out from their cover. When my first shot failed, they would get startled before retreating behind their vehicles. But after realizing that I left behind nothing but a bad bruise, they got brave and came back out, only to meet their end seconds later.

Like that, I basically took out every warlock in the ambush. And this was despite the Hunker I was in getting attacked.

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I wasn’t worried about my back, because the Tavera Family was a family of Knights. They were the best at close combat, so our vehicles would only get boarded in the worst case. Because of that, I would likely be the last one to get hurt or die in any battle we faced during this trip.

I just needed to do my part in taking out the enemy’s warlocks before they could do any real damage with powerful spells, something the Patriarch basically hired me to do in the first place.

And I did my job perfectly. While breaking down magic barriers forced me to empower my bullets a bit, it was nothing I couldn’t do with ease.

So with that, the battle flipped. The Tavera Knights went on the offensive and killed everyone else after all the warlocks had died since they no longer had to worry about incoming spells. And since I didn’t want to accidentally shoot somebody, I stopped not long after.

I watched as the battle concluded. The corpses and vehicles were looted for anything valuable like White Crystals before being discarded. It was a bit eye opening to see the knights pick up and throw the vehicles with only a bit of strain, the hunks of metal crashing off the side of the road and out of the convoy’s way.

And before long, we were back to rolling. Before I could sink back into bed though, the Captain came and found me.

“Thank you for your good work, John. We suffered only a few major injuries and no deaths. That wouldn’t have been possible without you killing those warlocks. I must say, it's a bit surreal having such a major advantage like you with us to establish dominance. I understand why the Patriarch personally hired you.”

“Thanks, Captain. Expect more of it in the future. Unless it's a really powerful warlock, I should be able to kill them with only a few shots.”

We shook hands with a smile. To outright eliminate the threat of spells really was a game changer. Without me here, these knights would have to carve their way through the enemy knights in order to kill the other warlocks, and during that time, dozens of spells would rain down on top of them, potentially killing many before they could finally turn a battle into their favor.

Even with your own warlocks, you had to wait and defend while the warlocks of both sides tried to kill each other. It could take a long time for that to happen and would similarly result in many more casualties.

But I could directly eliminate them. Killing warlocks could be said to be my forte. So instead of the warlocks determining the tide of battle, that right had been given to me alone.

The battle would be determined by how fast I could kill the opposing warlocks.

The Captain seemed to have discovered that this battle, which led to his next words.

“Yes, you keep doing what you did tonight. I plan to have a meeting tomorrow to discuss this as well. With you here, all we have to do is wait until you can eliminate those warlocks. I want the others to understand this detail so we can adjust our tactics and reduce our injuries and deaths. Of course, I also want your input. If there is anything we should know, then do tell us.”

“Hm…”

I couldn’t help the slight anxiousness at the sudden proposal.

The Captain was basically saying that he would adjust their battle tactics to revolve around my ability to take out enemy warlocks. This meant that future battles would hinge on me alone. It was a sudden onset of responsibility that made me worry about whether or not I could perform.

I was confident in my ability to kill warlocks, but now there were people who would be relying on me. If I failed, things could go wrong. Although I couldn’t really think of any reasons besides a sheer power difference that would cause me to fail, I still initially shied away at the responsibility.

But I was a variable that nobody had accounted for on this trip. This meant that the Captain fully believed that he and his knights would need to kill all warlocks on their own. So even if I failed, the result could only be better than if I weren’t here at all. I only brought benefits, regardless of how much.

This thought brought back my confidence, but I still didn’t intend tot ake full responsibility for the outcomes of these battles. This dictated my next response.

“I understand, Captain. I don’t mind you changing tactics, but your knights still need to be ready to do things themselves. I alone can’t win an entire battle, and I don’t want people becoming complacent thinking they can just rely on someone else to keep them alive.”

“That is natural, of course. I never intended to put everything on your shoulders. But my men will at least know that they can act more defensively instead of recklessly attempting to kill well guarded warlocks.”

“Sure. That’s no problem. I’ll do my best regardless, and those warlocks will be my first targets. So long as I’m not hindered, I don’t see any reason why I can’t get rid of them all.”

“Very well.”

Our conversation concluded with that. Afterward, the convoy went back to sleep, and I went to bed with thoughts of accomplishment.

……

…

Although we had cleanly avoided any deaths and dispatched the first wave of enemies with relative ease, the convoy was still on edge. Another attack could come at any time.

I also overheard some conversations about displeasure among the fighters, their targets being the scouts.

We were supposed to have people devoted to alerting the entire convoy in the event of an attack, giving us some time to prepare before being bombarded. Although it didn’t seem like much, even just a few seconds could be valuable time to begin preparing.

Apparently, that was the secondary job of the few warlocks who were onboard. They knew spells that could detect anomalies in a wide area. And a few vehicles worth of people were definitely anomalous, so it was a wonder why we weren’t alerted well in advance.

Hearing about this didn’t anger me much, but I also wasn’t nearly as urgent as the others. They had to get out and fight, and without time to prepare their gear, they could be caught with their pants down. Sometimes literally.

I didn’t even have to go outside, just hiding away in a fortified pillbox with my rifle. But I still felt some empathetic indignation on behalf of the other fighters. In the last battle, injuries could have been avoided if the scouts did their job.

Unfortunately, it seemed like I had initially been missing a few details.

When evening of the next day dawned, I asked Plex about the situation while eating dinner.

Apparently, the assassin and his missing partner had both killed and assummed the identities of two warlocks on the convoy, cutting down on the already small number of warlock personnel. After all, why wouldn’t you attack the one glaring weakness of a convoy full of knights? Without warlocks, they would have a much harder time fighting back.

And this made me even more valuable than before. It was no wonder why the Captain wanted to revolve his defensive tactics around me. I was better at killing warlocks than other warlocks and made up for their weakness perfectly.

Well, unless our enemies didn't find out who I was and specifically counter my actions, I could continue to work unhindered.

Perhaps that was a bit much to ask though, because I had already established a high level of renown in the black market. I was too iconic, so perhaps it was only bound to happen. A matter of when, not if.