Our Family Has Fallen

For the prisoners, most of them had no idea what was happening, except that the landslide also affected them, causing the ground to cave in directly.

The constructed road was torn apart, and some people fell directly, but fortunately, the soil was compact, reducing the risk of further collapse.

The landslide happened in an instant, leaving few people able to react. Upon realizing the disaster, the soldiers and prison guards in charge immediately thought of rescuing people.

"Rescue them! Quick, save them!"

"Danger! Get out of here quickly, there’s still the possibility of a landslide."

"Gather and report, which team is missing people?"

The site was controlled immediately, order was restored, and all the prisoners were moved to the back, which allowed for a tense but orderly rescue to begin.

The prisoners did not intend to escape; instead, they obediently responded to directives.

Everything went very smoothly; they were merely affected, and according to the count, only three had fallen. Due to the road construction, various tools were available to pull those who had fallen back up.

Some were injured or unconscious and had to be lowered down to be rescued, which was extremely dangerous. If the earlier situation happened again, or if the soil collapsed, those who went down might not be able to come up.

Everyone fell silent; the soldiers did not fear death. They could charge at the enemy for the Lord, but was it worth it for a prisoner?

"Captain, I’ll go. I’m lighter."

A soldier stepped forward. Prisoners were one thing, but they weren’t police officers and didn’t need to consider such matters; rescuing people was required by the disaster contingency plan.

This scene was somewhat moving, especially for the prisoners, who were in labor reform for a reason.

In Hamlet, the status of soldiers could be considered top-tier, and now they were risking themselves to save these prisoners.

This kind of situation doesn’t need to be heard elsewhere; it’s certain that it would only happen in Hamlet under the Lord’s leadership.

Some even began to break down, feeling guilt, loss, wordlessness...

There had once been an opportunity before them, but they didn’t cherish it, leading to their current predicament.

Just as someone was lowered down, they didn’t realize that the heretics would appear at this time, and in large numbers.

As the frenzied heretics, displaying obvious abnormalities, attacked, the shrill whistle seemed to pierce the air.

"Beep—!"

In an instant, all the soldiers understood what was happening.

"Damn it! Organize the defense!"

"Forget about that guy, pull up quickly."

The captain did not hesitate and immediately ordered the cessation of the rescue, then turned to shout at the prisoners and prison guards.

"Leave! Get out now!"

The soldiers strained to pull the ropes, racing against time.

But there was an unexpected turn because the one pulled up wasn’t the soldier but the unconscious prisoner.

Everyone who noticed this was briefly stunned.

Not only the soldiers but also the criminals, because everyone was focused on this situation.

"What the hell are you doing? Quick, quick, quick!" The captain was so anxious he personally went to drop the rope, hoping to pull up the person as quickly as possible.

But the heretics wouldn’t give them more time; the space cleared for the road construction instead facilitated their movement, while the soldiers had no cover to rely on.

Damn it, how did it become a road built for the heretics?

"Free fire!" the captain roared, putting all his strength into pulling the rope.

The first round of shooting.

The thirty or so soldiers formed a line and fired, and although in the past, it might not have caused much damage, it at least had an obvious deterrent effect. Yet this time, it didn’t even make them pause.

No one understood better than them what this meant. These heretics had become stronger, and in fact, they had already suspected this upon seeing their appearances.

The silent despair spread among the soldiers; even these battle-hardened soldiers felt a crushing pressure, as if it was strangling their throats.

If it were anyone else, they might have just turned and fled.

But they did not run and instead began reloading, even estimating the enemy’s distance, equipping bayonets, and planning to hold the line to the death.

They would not abandon any comrades, even if it meant facing death head-on.

"You all run back and report quickly."

The prison guards had only become formalized positions recently, officially, or as a structured occupation. Previously, many had no titles.

Many of them did not come from good backgrounds, but Lance still gave them a chance.

Now, it was time to repay the Lord.

The ten or so prison guards did not choose to leave but instead picked up their weapons. They had received militia training and were equipped with a baton and a spear, finally putting them to use now.

Without their last supervision, by right, those prisoners should have run for their lives, since no one was watching them anymore.

But looking at those going up-front, they all fell silent for a moment.

"I’ve already made the wrong choice once, can’t get it wrong this time."

"You can’t take my chance for redemption."

"For Hamlet!"

The group atmosphere is infectious. When someone stepped forward, the fervor immediately overwhelmed the fear.

The radiance of courage illuminated their souls.

The construction site had more than a hundred prisoners, and they all picked up whatever tools like hoes they could find and joined.

The second loaded shot had no impact on the battlefield. The mixed formation of bayonets, spears, and hoes clashed with the frenzied heretics.

Unfortunately, no miracle happened; the clash of metal and the dull sound of flesh being struck were mingled with painful wails and screams.

In the end, they were only some reform-through-labor prisoners who inherently lacked combat power, and encountering these fierce heretics, not collapsing instantly was already the Lord’s blessing.

After blood was shed, the heretics became even more frenzied, and the battle line was on the brink of collapse.

And at this moment, the soldier who had gone down was finally pulled up, though he was yelling something strange.

"There’s something down there!"

"Damn it, stop the nonsense and get up quickly!"

But who cared about that now? The captain dropped the rope and picked up his rifle with a mounted bayonet to charge forward.

The solid bayonet technique allowed him to deflect a swinging iron claw, using the length advantage to stab into the heretic’s face, but unfortunately, it had no effect, and the heretic remained frenzied.

Not to mention the sudden onset of a despair that interfered with their mindset. Those who had fought the heretics knew this was the sorcery of the evil cult’s witch.

They could resist, but the ordinary folks might not have the capacity.

If there were a hundred soldiers, he might have confidence in regrouping, but unfortunately...

Seeing that they were about to be overwhelmed and devoured by the heretics, suddenly, a gunshot rang out.

A team rushed out from the wilderness beside the road, it was Dismas and his group.

Dismas didn’t even have time to reload, charging unremittingly toward the heretics, his Short Sword striking shadows, slashing the throats of one heretic after another.

But amidst such a desperate battle, what difference did that make?

To see a miracle on this battlefield still depended on the spellcasters.

Junia didn’t hesitate much; she was very familiar with the Iron Torch’s equipment and knew how to channel its power.

The accumulated divine power was released, and this time it wasn’t a flash of light, but a blinding beam.

Sanctuary!

As the beam swept across, injured ordinary people were healed, while the heretics began to emit white flames as if condensed from holy light.

Balistan also charged in, shield in hand, joining the fray, but unlike Dismas, he had a crucial objective.

"Fall back, regroup with me!"

Balistan raised his Warhammer to command as soon as he charged in; these people needed a central pillar.