Chapitre 53: Pecos Colony II
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POV of Sheila
From our strategic positions, we watched as the legionaries spread out through the town, approaching buildings and preparing to loot whatever they could find. I held my breath, waiting for the right moment. The orders had been clear: do not fire until they were close enough, until we were sure they wouldn't have the chance to regroup.
The first raider reached a dilapidated store, pounding the door hard. That's when I slowly exhaled and raised my hand. We knew it was time.
"Now!" I shouted with all the force I could muster, and the sound of rifles exploded in the air like deafening thunder.
Dozens of shots rang out simultaneously, all aimed at the unsuspecting legionaries. In a matter of seconds, several fell to the ground before they could even react. Chaos gripped them. The raiders barked orders, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from, but the attack was precise, each shot counting, each bullet hitting its mark.
One of the legionaries attempted to retreat to one of the chariots for cover, but my rifle was already aimed. I squeezed the trigger and saw him fall before he could set foot inside the vehicle. Around us, my men and women, disciplined and trained, fired from the shadows, moving between the ruins as the legionaries began to retreat, desperate to escape the ambush.
"Don't give them any room!" I shouted over the radio, as we pressed forward, maintaining the pressure. We knew that if we allowed them to regroup, things could turn against us.
The situation shifted in the blink of an eye. The legionaries, caught off guard at first, quickly began to regroup. Their iron discipline and rigorous training drove them to fight back with a ferocity that was difficult to contain. We saw how some of them took cover behind their chariots and ruined buildings, while others began hurling grenades and dynamite towards our positions.
"Take cover!" I yelled just as an explosion rocked the ground a few meters from where I stood. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the sound of the detonation made my ears ring. Some of ours managed to dodge the explosions, but others weren't as lucky. I watched as one of our volunteers was thrown into the air by the impact of a grenade, his rifle falling lifelessly to the ground.
The legionaries weren't just shooting with pistols and rifles—they were advancing with swords and spears, seeking close combat. They knew our advantage lay in distance, in our precise shots from cover, so they tried to force us into close quarters, where they held the upper hand.
"Don't let them get close!" I shouted as I fired my rifle at a legionary charging towards us with a spear. My shot hit him in the chest, and he dropped to his knees before collapsing. But for every one we took down, it seemed like two more appeared, determined to finish us off.
Beside me, one of my officers had run out of ammunition and was fighting hand-to-hand with a legionary wielding a sword. The clash of steel echoed in the air. I rushed toward him and, before the legionary could make a fatal move, I fired my revolver, saving my officer by a hair's breadth.
The battle remained a brutal fight. Despite having gathered more than a thousand men and women, the enemy kept pushing with unexpected force. Paullus's men were fewer in number, but their discipline and savagery kept the fight in a constant state of tension. The explosions from grenades and gunfire mixed with war cries, and the air was thick with dust and gunpowder.
As the battle raged on in the growing darkness, an unexpected sound broke through the chaos: gunshots. But they didn't come from our positions or the legionaries in front of us. It was a different echo, distant, coming from the rear of Paullus's forces. The legionaries began to notice it too. There was a sea of bullets, growing louder, tearing through the night.
"What the hell…?" I muttered, looking toward the horizon. We didn't understand what was happening, but soon it became clear. The darkness behind Paullus's legionaries was suddenly illuminated by an intense glow, a wall of fire that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Flames engulfed the rear of their troops, casting shadows of legionaries as they turned to face this new attack.
"They're being attacked!" one of my officers shouted, pointing his rifle toward the fire. And it was true. The legionaries, who moments ago were focused on us, began to redirect all their efforts toward their rear, their attacks on us weakening. Something or someone had ambushed Paullus's forces, and it wasn't a small group. The noise of gunfire and the roar of explosions suggested the attack was coming in force.
I seized the confusion, my mind racing. "This is our moment!" I shouted to my men and women. "Move forward! Don't let them recover!"
My words echoed through the air, and the momentum was immediate. Without hesitation, we began to push forward, taking advantage of the fact that the legionaries were now forced to fight on two fronts. The fire crackled in the distance, and though we still didn't know who was behind the attack, we were ready to take advantage of the opportunity.
With the legionaries focused on their rear, our shots became more accurate, and we began to push harder. Every bullet we fired found a disorganized target—legionaries trying to fight two enemies at once. Paullus's commands, which had once rung out with clarity, were now lost in the chaos.
The wall of fire in the rear continued to grow, illuminating the battlefield with a hellish glow. Whatever it was, whoever was attacking Paullus, they had arrived at just the right time.
The fall of Paullus's legionaries began to accelerate. Their discipline, which had seemed unbreakable before, crumbled under the relentless pressure of our ambush and the assault from their rear. Every shot we fired found its mark, and the legionaries, trapped between two fires, began to fall like flies. The explosions and fire behind them forced them to retreat toward our lines, only making it easier for our rifles to do their work.
"They're retreating towards us!" one of my men shouted, aiming precisely at a legionary desperately running through the shadows.
Paullus' legionaries, cornered and disorganized, were trying to escape from whatever was attacking them from behind, but in their chaotic retreat, they ran straight into our gunfire. It was utter chaos. What had initially been a well-organized and fearsome force now resembled a group of desperate raiders, crumbling under the crossfire.
Every time one of them tried to stand up and regroup, they were struck down by our bullets or by the mysterious forces still attacking from the rear. The situation Paullus had created, thinking he would secure an easy victory, was turning into a nightmare for his men.
"Don't stop, keep shooting!" I ordered, my voice filled with determination. I knew we were close to breaking their formation entirely, and we couldn't allow them to regroup. I squeezed the trigger over and over, watching as the ranks of the legionaries fell faster and faster.
Confusion filled Paullus' ranks. Desperate shouts echoed through the air, but the legionaries were so overwhelmed by the pressure from their rear that they hardly paid attention to our positions. The few who tried to advance toward us fell before they could get close. Paullus' forces were entirely trapped, and retreat was their only option.
As the battle raged around me, something caught my attention amidst the chaos. I saw Paullus, easily recognizable by his imposing armor, with his steel helmet and heavy shoulder plates. He stood in the middle of the battlefield as if untouched by the hell unfolding around him. My rifle was already lined up toward him, my finger ready to pull the trigger when something strange happened.
A figure emerged from the smoke and fire, walking directly toward Paullus. He wore full steel armor, each step heavy and menacing, wielding a machete in hand. He was a formidable warrior, and for a moment, I thought he might be one of ours, a mysterious ally who had come to take down the infamous marauder. But when my eyes settled on the man's chest, a chill ran through me.
The emblem of Caesar's Legion gleamed on his armor.
He was a legionary, no doubt, but why was he attacking Paullus? Paullus seemed to notice it too. I saw his lips move, saying something I couldn't hear from my position. His movements were quick, though he looked more bewildered than scared. Was this armored man not one of his own legionaries? Or perhaps something else?
The air felt thick with tension, the battle continued around us, but my entire focus was on that scene. Something didn't add up. A legionary of Caesar's Legion, proudly bearing its symbol, but confronting the man who, in theory, should be under the same orders from Caesar. There was something profoundly unsettling about what I was witnessing.
Paullus, with his imposing figure and characteristic fury, launched the first attack. His sword moved swiftly, aiming to cut down his opponent with the same brutality that had claimed so many other lives. However, the man in steel armor was not like his usual victims. With an almost inhuman calm, he dodged every strike with precise movements, his agile steps contrasting with the weight of his armor. The sound of steel clashing with the machete echoed through the air, but none of Paullus' blows managed to pierce the defenses of the mysterious man.
Every time Paullus tried to strike harder, the man blocked or simply dodged, as if anticipating every move with ease. It was almost surreal to watch Paullus, the terror of so many towns, be frustrated again and again by a single warrior. The fury on Paullus' face was obvious; his attacks became more frantic but also more clumsy, fueled by frustration.
My men and I watched in silence, too confused to intervene. We couldn't understand what we were seeing. Who was this man? Why was he wearing the Legion's emblem if he was clearly fighting one of their own?
The armored man didn't even attempt to attack. His machete only moved to deflect Paullus' blows or block them with calculated precision. Every time Paullus' steel descended, the man received it effortlessly, as if the weight of the battle didn't affect him at all. It seemed like he was toying with Paullus, waiting for the exact moment to strike.
Paullus, on the other hand, was beginning to show signs of exhaustion. His movements, once lethal and precise, were now slower, more desperate. With every step, every failed strike, it became clear that this fight wasn't going the way he had planned.
I seized what seemed like the perfect opportunity. With Paullus distracted and growing increasingly frustrated, I raised my rifle, aiming directly at his head. My finger was on the trigger, and in my mind, I could already see that damn raider falling to the ground. But just as I was about to fire, the armored man moved swiftly and pushed Paullus out of the line of fire. The shots that should have ended his life veered off, hitting the dusty ground instead.
Before I could react, the armored man, with surprising speed, drew a rifle he had nearby and aimed it at me. I barely had time to process what was happening before he fired. The whistle of the bullets passed so close, I felt the impact as one of them ripped through my hat, knocking it off my head and sending it tumbling to the ground.
I ducked instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest. For a second, everything went silent in my mind, as if the battlefield had been paused by the intensity of that moment. I had narrowly escaped death by mere millimeters. The precision of those shots was terrifying.
"Fire on Paullus, kill him!" I shouted with all my might, my voice cutting through the roar of the battle. My men didn't hesitate. A hail of bullets began to rain down on Paullus and those around him. Every shot was a promise of justice, a vow to end the suffering that damned raider had caused. But when I dared to peek and see the result, something unexpected happened.
More men in armor, similar to the one who had thwarted my initial attempt, emerged from the shadows. They were silent and fast, moving with terrifying coordination. Before we could react, they grabbed Paullus and dragged him to the rear. My men tried to take them down, but the bullets bounced off their armor harmlessly, as if their suits were impenetrable. Frustration mounted with every useless shot.
"Damn it!" I cursed, watching as those armored men carried Paullus away from our reach.
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