The ears of the Empire soldiers were filled with the crackling sounds of electricity: "Azimuth 175, altitude 3500, prepare to fire!"
Accompanied by the sound of metal grinding, the barrels suddenly lifted high. The ogre loaders skillfully pushed armor-piercing bullets into the breech, and the clinking of brass shells was as crisp as silver coins falling to the ground.
The crosshairs in the sight were aligned with the vague figures with twin wings in the sky.
The longswords in the hands of the Holy Guard Army burned fiercely, heavenly fire continuously fell, and divine light descended, burning the Empire soldiers on the ground like divine punishment.
In the eyes of ordinary mortals, they were lofty angels, divine messengers to be worshipped, but in the eyes of the Empire soldiers—they were just enemies, enemies that could be translated into military achievements.
