Rewrite That Witch
CH1415 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1415: The Unexpected Attackers

Around them, workers were slowing, lifting their heads, trading uncertain looks. A few pointed at the birds. The discussion was growing — what did it mean, was it unusual, had anyone seen anything like it before.

Charms was not listening.

That alarm was not the city warning. It was the First Army’s field system — a signal reserved for contact with the enemy, which meant the enemy was already at the front line and a clash was either imminent or underway. By the time sound reached Station No. 2, the soldiers might already be fighting.

Had the demons regrouped? Staged a counterattack?

The thought was almost too large to hold. He’d campaigned with his father all the way from the Misty Forest to Tower Station No. 10. He understood the geography. Taquila’s rebuilt fortifications, the tall watchtowers with sight lines extending beyond ten kilometers across open plains — nothing should have approached undetected. The gap between the ruins of the Holy City and Taquila alone was three to four hundred kilometers. For the enemy to appear this close to the new King’s City without triggering any prior alarm was not possible.

Except, apparently, it was.

He had no time to reason it through. Station No. 2’s garrison was barely a hundred troops, most of them new recruits whose duties had been administrative. If genuine combat came to them, the calculation was not a favorable one.

Balshan was already running toward the station.

“Hey — where are you going?”

“Dusk is still inside! I’m going to get her!”

Her voice pulled him to attention. Evacuation procedure required everyone who heard the alarm to move to the nearest refuge immediately. But the unloading bay sat at the edge of the development area — too far from the residential refuge to reach on foot in anything like useful time. If they went back into the station for Dusk, they were already committed to the train as their exit.

Charms yanked the badge off his shirt and raised it overhead.

“Listen! I’m Soldier Charms of the First Army. Station No. 2 is under attack. Put down what you’re carrying and follow me — the refuge is too far on foot; we’re taking the train!”

He added, too quietly for anyone to hear: “Ex-soldier.”

Nobody heard the correction. The words First Army had landed like orders, and the workers who had already been edging toward panic stopped and formed up around him with the instinctive discipline of people grateful to have something to follow. The sudden weight of their trust hit him squarely — he had never led anyone; every campaign he’d served, he’d been subordinate to his father — but having said it, there was nothing to do but mean it.

“This way!”

He ran them along the flank of the train and nearly collided with Hank coming around the rear end.

“What in the — brat, what’s going on? I just stepped away to find a corner—”

“No time. Have you added coal and water? Is the boiler pressure good?”

Hank blinked rapidly, then nodded. “Everything’s set. We can move anytime.”

“Good. Turn the train around. We’re heading for Station No. 1. Sound the horn before you pull out — make sure everyone knows. And keep a gun close.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sort out the rest and meet you at the front.”

The train was moving in under a minute, spewing a long plume of smoke, its horn blaring twice into the pale sky. While it built speed, more workers appeared from the storage areas and climbed aboard — including a dozen civilian militiamen from the goods detail, each armed with a flintlock. Not soldiers, but armed. Charms felt the knot in his chest ease slightly.

Once he’d confirmed Dusk was aboard and accounted for, he made his way forward to join Hank.

The plains behind them showed him the enemy.

A wall of demonic beasts.

“God above,” Hank muttered at the window. “Weren’t these things supposed to stay put during off-season?”

“No one knows the rules in this land.” Charms pulled his rifle from its locker and climbed to the roof of the rear carriage, steadying himself against the motion of the train. From here, with the train running backward toward Station No. 1, he had a clear view of what they were fleeing. A mixed horde — ordinary beasts, larger ones — charging without formation, without coordination, pushing against each other in their hurry. They were fast. They’d already swept through the unloading bay.

If they’d tried to run on foot, no one would have made it.

He’d been right. The relief that came with that thought was less satisfaction than structural — something he needed to confirm before he could think forward.

The rifle shots started from below, the militiamen picking targets through windows. Beasts fell, black blood trailing across the ground. Ordinary demonic beasts, Charms noticed — nothing like the spear-carrying Mad Demons he’d prepared himself to face. Their threat level was well below what the First Army handled as a matter of course. Which meant the question became more urgent: how had creatures this unremarkable overrun Taquila’s fortifications without a single warning reaching the south?

He had no answer.

Bang.

The train lurched. Not the internal rhythm of wheels on track — something had struck it from outside. Hard enough to stagger his footing. He grabbed the carriage edge and turned.

A creature he had never seen before clung to the train’s flank. Enormous. Blue blood was already sheeting down the carriage wall — it had been caught by the train’s momentum and half-crushed. But what remained was still moving: many appendages, a shell like reptile-plate armor, and from its head a scythe-blade that spoke to a position well above the prey-animal level. The blue blood where it had been struck spread outward in a widening stain.

He had not seen it approach. Had not heard it. It had simply appeared.

There was no time to wonder where from.

The track ahead had split in two.

“Hank — brakes! Hit the brakes now!”

He was already shoving through the crowd back toward the front, one hand grabbing every available grip. His companion didn’t ask questions; the screech of emergency braking tore through the air a moment later, sharp and raw, the smell of burning metal reaching him even over the wind.

It was not enough distance.

The train struck the broken section and the wheels went sideways immediately. The heavy carriages, freed of the track’s guidance, collided into each other and then into the ground, one after another, a sound like the world deciding to reorganize itself. The connected chain overturned in shuddering sequence, each carriage adding its voice to the collapse until everything was still.

Dust. Steam. The distant alarm, still sounding. And underneath it, very close, the sounds of survivors starting to move.

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