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The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy]
Chapter 181 – Operation Speartip

Chapter 181 – Operation Speartip

Fer ran. The pack followed. Through the jungles, they tore through shrub and bush, they forded rivers, they crossed ravines. They leapt around trees, they raced up hills and sprinted down them.

Anassa disappeared from the arid plains of eastern Kirinyaa. She took a single step and crossed the horizon. There was no reason to race, she’d make it at the same as Fer. And besides, she could enjoy tonight. The war would end tomorrow.

“Sir, there’s a barrier!” Iliyal leaned out past seat to look through the front window. They were in a ten van convoy, each vehicle requisitioned from the Rancais police force. Lubska had wanted to use their own vehicles at first, but Rancais, which had been dealing with Anarchian riots for the past year, simply had better vans at their disposal. Iliyal wasn’t going to give his men anything but the best of the best. The two trucks in the back weren’t even ferrying men, but instead were packed with explosives.

Iliyal looked through the glass as his eyes readjusted to the night. The stars were out, although they would be. Lubska was a modern Epan country, but it wasn’t a Doschia or Rancais where every mile of land had a village at least. There wasn’t a town around for twenty miles at least, the closest village was an hour drive through winding forest roads. It was more than enough time to give Jozef a credible excuse as to why he would not respond to the call for aid immediately. “Stop Ricard.” That wasn’t the driver’s birth name, but it was his name now. Made official with the gift of the black and white passport Iliyal had handed out before the operation started.

“Aye Aye Boss.” Ricard replied. Another muscled man, with knife scars ruining his face. Apparently he was a Lubskan gangster before this chance. Those past crimes didn’t matter now though. Those crimes belonged to the man who came before Ricard. This Ricard was a legionnaire. Iliyal looked past the forests as they slowly thinned out and gave way to a grassy meadow, stars shining above and a brilliant full moon providing plenty of light.

That moon lit up their target. The Paladin’s Headquarters of Epa. An ancient fortress, built just after the Great War, and it showed. Iliyal had seen the newer castles of this age, the fanciful palaces like Aldanstein that had been built for comfort and prestige and magnanimity rather than the workhorses of the past. But this was nothing like that, built with a Great War mindset and by Maisara of all people. Fortress Drayim stood before them, with rounded towers and cold walls of grey bricks. Crenulations lined the top, a second wall made another barrier, then a circular keep in the middle loomed over the whole structure. The White-Gold flags of the Pantheon hung low in the stillness of the night air, below them, nailed to the walls were the silver banners of Maisara. A simple silver-white-silver design.

Iliyal looked at the approaching castle and had to hold back a tear forming in his eye. Riding towards an enemy fortress, ready to spill blood. This feeling was such sweet nostalgia he may as well have lost a thousand years of age.

And then his eyes travelled downwards, past the castle’s moat, past the green meadow, and towards barrier Ricard had mentioned. A simple traffic stop, next to it was a small building. Iliyal’s eyes saw the Paladins in their silver armour, holding heavy shields and strapped with greatswords on their back, but he merely skimmed over them. He had read reports of them from Zalewski’s front, Maisara’s tactics had not changed a single bit from what she used in the Great War. And there were only three of them, Kassandora’s culling of Maisara’s warriors had taken a hit on the Goddess of Order’s Orders. Iliyal would have told Ricard to simply ran through the barrier, but iron spikes popped out of the steel slits in the ground to stop anyone from doing that.

Ricard let go of the gas and the black armoured riot van started to slow down. Iliyal turned back to the ten eleven men in the rear. Everyone was dressed in black, with t-shirt and rugged trousers and plate-carriers strapped with ammunition and spare magazines. Everyone had a large knife on the leg, a pistol on the other, and the K-1 rifles in their hands. “Let’s get to work gentlemen.” Iliyal’s grin revealed his teeth. The grins in response revealed more sets of teeth that agreed with the sentiment. “Jonathan, send word to the cars, the bomb trucks are to be ready, the rest of the men are to stay in.”

“Understood Sir!” Jonathan replied from the passenger’s seat next to Ricard. He immediately started to transmit the orders through his radio to the other cars as the rear doors opened. Iliyal let his men be the first ones out. He considered himself at least somewhat proficient in combat, but the Great War and the thousand years after hadn’t been survived through charging head first into battle.

Iliyal’s men arranged themselves besides the wagon as the elf stepped forwards. In his black coat and the tall boots clicking on the ground. In the past, he wore steel armour. Not anymore, rifles destroyed any reason for medieval to exist and moving without the weight was more important. The three Paladins made a line, six more came out of that small building. It was an ugly thing of red brick and concrete, with a sloped roof. “Identify yourselves! This is Pantheon territory!” The lead Paladin shouted.

The Paladin looked as they all did, in heavy grey armour. A veritable hulk of a man, he would be strong enough to flip a car over by himself. Three of them would most likely be able to flip the armoured vans. Iliyal took a breath and felt the calmness of Kassandora wash over him. He gave them a moment longer for the rest of the men to filter out. The Paladin calmed his tone and started speaking in a monotone. Iliyal would have not taken that tactic personally, but Maisara’s Paladins were an odd lot. Seemingly quick to judge and yet always trying to avert violence from happening. “Under the Pantheon Directive, this area is legal territory of the White Pantheon, Lubska has no jurisdiction over this area. If you’re lost.” The man looked over at the over vehicles, he obviously doubted his own words. “Then I advise for you to turn around. Otherwise you will be imprisoned and judged.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Iliyal wondered if these men had killed others before. Most likely not, the White Pantheon so stupid as to cause diplomatic incidents because of simple trespass. But even if they did not, they carried Maisara’s blessing. Like Kassandora’s, it affected the mind. It made one cold and pragmatic, life became a series of logical conclusions as emotions plateaued into mere constant calmness. Iliyal thought about arguing with the man, but ultimately, words were wind. It didn’t matter if he crushed this man in argument. He merely raised his hand.

The line of men behind raised their rifles. The Paladins must have known what was happening. This was no longer the era of Pantheon Peace. Every news station would report about the technological advantage Kassandora’s army held. Even the most pro-Pantheon sources would not try to hide the fact that rifles were being used. The Paladin placed his heavy shield on the ground.

Iliyal dropped his hand.

The men behind him opened fire. The Paladins took a step back and dug their heels as they faced the hail of lead. Iliyal wanted to see how they fared personally, he had read Zalewski’s report but there were only two people he would trust to really be certain: Kassandora and himself. A few bullets bounced off the shields, they made dents and ricochetted off into the dirt and grass. A few more bullets bounced off the Paladin’s thick steel plate, simply making another a dent and helplessly trailing off behind them.

But for every bullet that didn’t penetrate, five did. The Paladin’s armour started to flow red, one man dropped his heavy tower shield. It dropped forwards and plummeted onto the ground with a clatter of metal. Iliyal raised his hand again and signalled the men to stop. He thought he would have to run in and duel them with a blade and pistol.

The leader of the men looked down at the wounds in his chest, he looked up, and faced Iliyal’s pistol aimed for the slit in his steel helm. Iliyal pulled the trigger and the man fell backwards. The others did too. Iliyal looked at the Drayim Fortress proper. An alarm wasn’t blaring yet, it would soon enough though. The castle stood silently in the night, the moon shining above it. It was too late to turn back now, the only way out was to keep going until they made it all the way through. “Open the barriers, lower the spikes.” Iliyal said as he turned back and re-entered the armoured van.

“Yes Sir!” Two men immediately ran off into the structure, there was another burst of gunfire for a few seconds, then silence. Iliyal waited for a few seconds, then a few seconds more. He started tapping his foot impatiently as men started to file back in and take their seats.

The sound of metal shifting made him lean over Ricard’s seat again. The barrier was raising, the spikes in the ground shifted and submerged into the steel slits in the ground. It had taken a minute, but they had worked it out. Ricard switched the engine of the van back on and gave it some gas. It jerked forwards, then stopped as the two men who had ran in to open the blockade jumped back in and slammed the door. “Sorry for the wait Boss.” One of them shouted.

“I was beginning question if you can read.” Iliyal said flatly and the men shared a few laughs amongst themselves. Iliyal smiled to himself, he let them have it. They wouldn’t be laughing soon enough. Or maybe they would, you never knew with prisoners and psychopaths. Some of them did actually enjoy it. He leaned back over to Jonathan. “Launch the battering rams, we’re going in.”

“Aye Aye Sir.” Jonathan replied and started speaking orders into the radio. They moved quickly, Ricard drove the van to the side of the road. Iliyal looked through the window behind him, all the other vans followed in tow. All but the last two, the ones that were filled with explosives. He saw those two pull forwards slowly. The first one began to accelerate, the driver aimed his vehicle, locked the steering wheel, flung open the door and flung himself out of the vehicle and into the grass.

And the van kept roaring forwards. It only picked up speeds as lights turned on from the walls of Drayim Fortress. Large spotlights, effective to blind, but Iliyal had seen them used in the past. It was new technology, but it merely replaced the blinding lights of Seekers. His legionnaires were already told what to do. From each car, a man opened a hatch in the top of the structure. Eight men popped out of the roofs of eight cars, each one drew his rifle, aimed at a spotlight and pulled the trigger.

One by one, they started to shatter. One even set on fire, that was good. Alarms started to blare from behind the castle walls. It didn’t matter though, the first van slammed into the gate. It crashed, the front crumpled and the back lifted into the air. Iliyal hadn’t gone for a radio explosives, they were simply set and prepped in such a way that any sort of impact would make them go off.

And go off they did. A brilliant fireball submerged the gates in flames and the pressure blew them open. Nothing but a few scraps remained of the vehicle, and those scraps of metal had been launched into the moat on either side of the structure. The fireball devoured itself leaving only smoking rubble.

It revealed the second wall. With a gate that was much the same. A squad of Paladins had already formed a shieldwall in front of it. Iliyal smiled to himself as the second van set off in the same manner, the driver aimed it, then jumped out into the grass before walls. The Paladins took a step back, then quickly scattered to the sides. That was smart, only Fer’s beastmen were aggressive enough to think they could stop cars hurtling towards them.

The vehicle hurtled past them at a tremendous speed, and slammed into the second gate. Like the first gate, it went up in a fireball, throwing debris marvellously high into the air and scattering flames around it. Iliyal leaned over to Ricard. “Drive.”

The speartip had breached the armour, now it was time to drive the entire shaft in.