Reborn General: My Interstellar Arsenal Slays Magic

Chapter 2: The Sound of Thunder

The war bells of Frostpeak Fortress clanged out in a frantic, irregular rhythm that smelled of pure panic. Down in the snowbound trench of the canyon, five hundred Rank-4 Frost Orcs surged forward like an avalanche of iron, tusks, and raw muscle.

The three remaining Imperial guards stared down at the frozen valley, their swords trembling in their gauntlets. "The outer gate won't hold!" one yelled, his voice cracking. "Without the Captain’s mana-key, the barrier stones can't ignite! We're dead! We're all dead!"

"Shut up," Leonidas commanded.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the terrifying weight of a man who had commanded armies through the extinction of species. The guards snapped their heads toward him, terrified of the strange black iron tube still smoking in his right hand.

Leonidas ignored them, stepping over Captain Vance’s cooling corpse to look at the fortress courtyard below. Fifty starving conscripts in thin leather armor were running around like headless chickens, holding broken spears and wooden shields. These were commoners—men and women thrown away by the empire because they possessed no mana.

Just like me in my past life, Leonidas thought, his jaw setting hard. Treated as sacrificial meat to buy time for noble mages to retreat.

He raised the tactical sidearm into the air and fired a single unsuppressed round into the sky.

BANG!

The sharp, thunderous crack echoed off the icy canyon walls, instantly silencing the chaos in the courtyard. Every head snapped up to the battlements.

"All garrison conscripts to the inner ramparts!" Leonidas bellowed, his voice ringing across the snow. "Form a firing line behind the stone embrasures! Throw down those useless wooden sticks!"

"Who the hell are you to give orders?!" a battle-scarred conscript corporal yelled back from the courtyard. "The Captain—"

"The Captain is dead," Leonidas cut him off ruthlessly. "And if you want to live to see tomorrow's sunrise, you will obey my command right now!"

He swiped his hand through the air, bringing up the holographic system interface.

[BIOMASS CREDITS REMAINING: 350]

[PURCHASING: TIER 1 GARRISON PACKAGE]

10x MP5 Submachine Guns (With 500 rounds of 9mm ammunition)

2x Light Machine Guns (M249 SAW) + Tripods

20x High-Explosive Fragmentation Grenades

[TOTAL COST: 320 CREDITS]

[CONFIRM PURCHASE?]

Confirm.

With a sudden, shimmering distortion of space-time, a massive wooden crate bound in heavy steel bands materialized on the courtyard cobblestones right in front of the frozen conscripts.

"Open the crate!" Leonidas shouted, stepping down the stone stairs with precise, measured steps.

The conscripts scrambled back in terror before the corporal—a burly, weathered commoner named Kael—hesitantly pried open the lid with his spearhead. Gasps of shock broke out among the ranks. Inside lay row upon row of sleek, black weapons, matte-finished and smelling heavily of cosmoline and gun oil, along with stacks of brass-filled magazines.

"You three," Leonidas pointed to the guards who had followed him down the stairs in utter confusion. "Pick up those tripod-mounted guns. Mount them on the left and right flanks of the gatehouse wall. Now!"

The guards didn't hesitate. The sheer pressure radiating off Leonidas forced their bodies to move before their brains could register the treason of taking orders from a disgraced cadet.

Leonidas stepped into the middle of the terrified conscripts, pulling an MP5 from the crate. He slammed a magazine into the magwell, pulled the charging handle back, and let it slap forward with a crisp, metallic clack.

"Listen to me!" Leonidas’s eyes swept across the frightened faces of the commoners. "The nobles told you that without mana, you are nothing! They told you that a peasant with a spear is just food for monsters! They lied to keep you on your knees!"

He raised the submachine gun high.

"This weapon does not care about your bloodline. It does not care if you have mana. In your hands, this metal brings the judgment of death to anything that bleeds!" He gestured to Kael and four others. "Grab a weapon! Load the magazines! Line up on the wall!"

Reinforced by the sudden appearance of strange, powerful weapons and Leonidas’s unshakeable resolve, the conscripts surged forward, grabbing the submachine guns and following him back up to the battlements.

Below them, the Frost Orc vanguard slammed into the heavy oak gates of the fortress.

CRASH!

The iron-reinforced wood groaned under the weight of five-hundred-pound behemoths wielding massive iron warhammers.

"Aim for their torsos and heads," Leonidas instructed coolly, taking his place at the center of the wall. "Do not spray blindly. Fire in short bursts of three. Kael, hold the center."

"Lord Vance... they're breachin'!" Kael yelled, his hands trembling as he gripped the unfamiliar black weapon.

The wooden gates splintered inward with a deafening roar. A towering Frost Orc chieftain, clad in thick monster-hide armor and holding a dual-headed battleaxe, bellowed in victory as he led the horde through the breach.

"Welcome to Frostpeak," Leonidas whispered.

He pulled his trigger.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

A stream of hot lead ripped through the freezing air. The armor-piercing 9mm rounds struck the Orc Chieftain full in the chest, tearing through his beast-hide armor and shredding his lungs. The towering brute staggered, coughing blood, and collapsed into the snow before he could even take three steps into the courtyard.

"FIRE!" Leonidas roared.

The battlements erupted into a wall of thunder.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

The two M249 light machine guns on the flanks roared to life, unleashing a devastating crossfire into the narrow choke point of the gate. The Frost Orcs, who had spent centuries fighting slow-moving human spear-lines and long-incantation mages, had no defense against the sheer volume of metal flying through the air at supersonic speeds.

Limbs were severed, armor was pulverized, and the front rank of the horde was cut down like wheat before a scythe. Crimson blood splashed across the white snow in grotesque, beautiful arcs.

The conscripts stared in absolute awe as the terrifying monsters that had haunted their nightmares were systematically obliterated within seconds. The fear in their eyes vanished, replaced by a wild, intoxicating surge of adrenaline.

"Keep firing! Don't let up!" Kael screamed, laughing madly as he emptied a full magazine into a charging Orc, dropping it instantly.

For ten straight minutes, the valley echoed with the relentless rhythm of modern automatic warfare. The Frost Orcs tried to charge, tried to raise their shields, tried to use their physical strength—but none could cross the killing zone fifty yards from the gate.

When the last gunshot faded, an eerie silence settled over Frostpeak Fortress.

The snow in front of the breached gate was dyed deep crimson, littered with the bodies of over three hundred Frost Orcs. The remaining two hundred had broken ranks and fled back down the canyon in complete terror—the first time in recorded history that a monster surge had retreated from a commoner garrison.

The conscripts stood on the walls, breathing heavily, staring at the smoking barrels of their weapons, and then at Leonidas.

Suddenly, Kael dropped to one knee, slamming his fist against his chest. "Hail the Commander!"

"HAIL THE COMMANDER!" fifty voices roared in unison, their eyes burning with fanatic loyalty.

Leonidas stood tall on the battlements, the wind whipping his dark hair.

[BATTLE CONCLUDED.]

[ENEMIES SLAIN: 342 RANK-4 FROST ORCS.]

[BIOMASS CREDITS GAINED: 3,420!]

[TIER 2 ARSENAL UNLOCKED: HEAVY ARTILLERY & TACTICAL SNIPER SYSTEMS.]

Leonidas allowed himself a cold, sharp smile. The foundation was laid. The garrison was his.

Before he could give the order to secure the perimeter, a high-pitched, resonant chime echoed from the far end of the canyon.

Leonidas turned his gaze toward the southern road. Emerging from the blizzard was a grand, golden carriage borne by four flying, mana-infused steeds, escorted by a dozen high mages in gleaming silk robes.

The Imperial Audit Delegation from the Capital had arrived—three days earlier than scheduled. And from the window of the carriage, a young man with silver hair and an arrogant scowl looked down at the pile of slaughtered monsters, his magic sensing the total absence of mana.

Prince Valen Solaria had come to inspect his trash.