I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution Chapter 55
“Open fire!”
As the leading noble officer gave the cold order, a dense volley of gunfire instantly tore through the night.
“Boom!”
“Clang!”
The chubby girl, carefully sipping her rice soup, jumped in fright at the distant explosion.
Her wooden bowl slipped from her hands and fell to the ground.
She quickly picked it up, distressed at the half-spilled contents, but her thoughts drifted far away.
This sound was all too familiar.
Every time it rang out, at least one of her uncles or older brothers would never return.
“Boom!”
“Boom...”
One blast after another drew nearer.
Several lightly wounded men, whose faces had been heavy with grief, now grew anxious.
From the rhythm of the explosions, they did not need to guess what had happened.
They seized their weapons and hurried toward the entrance of the trench outside.
“Little girl!!! Guard the house!”
【Bang bang...】
“Ah!”
A middle-aged man dragged along Pasha, whose face was pale from a bullet wound sustained during the breakout.
Their team, once numbering several dozen, had now dwindled to barely more than ten.
At times, they ran headlong into patrols of soldiers.
Some of their men failed to avoid the dense rain of bullets and fell into the snow, writhing and groaning.
Moments later, their cries faded, drowned by gunfire and the howling wind.
Pasha and the others had no time to reload and return fire, and their enemies gave them no such chance.
The blast of explosives at night was far too conspicuous, revealing their position.
Soldiers under Marquis Hendak fired illumination rounds from time to time, lighting up entire sectors, tightening the encirclement.
As the density of fire increased, even the cover of night could no longer conceal them—the gunshots exposed their location.
By deep night, only then did Pasha and the surviving few manage to break through the encirclement, gasping for breath.
He turned to say something, but froze when he realized—besides himself and the middle-aged man, there was no one left.
Clutching his wound, Pasha slumped against a wall, murmuring in despair: “It’s over...
all over.
Damn it, it’s all my fault...”
The middle-aged man patted his shoulder and shook his head.
“This isn’t your fault. If we hadn’t come out, we’d have starved to death. We had no choice.”
Before Pasha could respond, a dense trampling of boots came from nearby.
A magical flare shot into the sky, illuminating the area.
They were laid bare, surrounded by soldiers on all sides.
Nearly a hundred men closed in, forming a tight ring around them.
This time, Marquis Hendak spared no expense in capturing this man who spread rebellious words everywhere.
He deployed numerous magicians to track Pasha and his men by sensing their presence.
The fewer the surface targets, the harder it became for Pasha to conceal his trail—something the knight himself did not realize.
“The rebel leader is here! Capture him!”
“Orders from above—fifty gold for his corpse, one hundred for taking him alive!”
“Run!”
The middle-aged man shoved Pasha into a tunnel.
Gunfire rang out, followed by muffled groans.
Pasha fell to the bottom, staring helplessly as droplets of blood fell onto his face.
The man’s heavy voice came from above: “Go! I’ve already killed enough to settle my debts—dying now is worth it.
As long as you live, our deaths won’t be in vain.”
“We’re clumsy with words, but we all believe in that beautiful world you spoke of.
Please—see it for us!”
“.....”
“Boom!”
After a violent explosion, only then did Hendak’s soldiers, who had been firing from afar, dare to step forward and investigate.
An officer strode up, looked at the collapsed tunnel, and spat thick phlegm in disgust.
“If they weren’t afraid of dying, why didn’t they fight for the country? Damn lowborn vermin!”
Covered in dust, Pasha crawled from the tunnel with difficulty.
Agonizing pain radiated from the bullet wound in his waist, leaving him too weak to haul himself up.
“Hah...
hah...”
A shadow loomed over him.
Pasha lifted his head with effort and gasped, “Little girl?!”
“Brother Pasha, I’ll help you!” came her muffled reply.
He felt a small force tugging on his arm.
With her help, he managed to roll out of the tunnel and collapse in the snow, gasping.
Half his face pressed against the dirty slush, his body trembling.
After a long while, he wiped his face and looked around.
Realizing they stood at the border between the city’s commercial and industrial districts, his heart lifted.
The commercial district, with its chaotic mix of people, was difficult to search.
Their base was here.
If they could just cross one inter-district tunnel, they would vanish into the sea of the city.
Pasha clutched his abdomen with one hand and took the little girl’s hand with the other.
“Come, let’s get you out.
It’s no longer safe here.”
He led her swiftly toward the hidden tunnel.
Along the way, alleys were dotted with groups of ten or more people resting.
This was near the industrial district’s smelting workshops.
The ceaseless steam engines and furnaces kept the area warmer than most.
Countless homeless vagrants and bonded laborers gathered here at night.
If sudden work arose, workshops could hire them on the spot, so their presence was tolerated.
But loud commotion now rose from afar—the Hendak soldiers had already begun searching nearby.
Pasha pulled the girl into a dark alley between two workshops.
He shoved aside a pile of filth and waste, exposing a wooden hatch.
He lifted it and jumped down first, then spread his arms below.
“Come! I’ll catch you, don’t be afraid!”
The little girl glanced at the messy trash pile, then at Pasha waiting below.
Her eyes wavered.
But remembering that bowl of porridge, she finally bent down, pushed the cover back into place, and sat on it.
“Little girl! What are you doing? Open it and come down!” Pasha tried to climb back up, but the pain in his waist doubled him over in cold sweat.
From above came her muffled voice: “Brother Pasha, you go first. If I cover it back up, they won’t find you. I can hide myself.”
“Nonsense! It’s dangerous outside—where could you hide?”
“I can hide nearby. I’m so small, no one will notice me. I’ll wait for you to return.”
“You must go now, or it’ll be too late.”
After several failed attempts to push the hatch, Pasha gave up and called up in frustration:
“Fine, but don’t stay here.
Go deeper and hide.
I’ll come back for you—or send someone.
His name is Carson, remember?”
The little girl answered crisply, “Alright. Don’t worry about me, Brother Pasha. I’m a little flame.”
She quickly restored the trash pile, then pulled out her satchel, found a piece of black bread, and stuffed it all into her mouth.
Her cheeks bulged as she squinted in satisfaction, then skipped lightly to squat at the mouth of the alley.
Meanwhile, the search party arrived.
Soldiers whipped the huddled poor mercilessly.
Screams and cries filled the air.
Anyone who tried to flee was shot dead on the spot.
Adult men were bound, the elderly were kicked aside like dogs.
“Sir, no sign of the rebel leader, but we’ve captured plenty of rebels!”
A noble officer in a pristine uniform entered with a look of disdain only after his men secured the scene.
He nodded lazily at the report.
He glanced about the dark street when a black lump caught his eye.
“What’s that?”
A soldier hurried to check.
The lump moved, revealing a pair of bright eyes.
“Damn! A lowborn brat!”
Startled, the soldier raised his whip in fury and lashed down.
“Filthy wretch! How dare you disturb the officer—die, you worthless trash!”
The small figure fell under the lash.
The whip, barbed for breaking slaves, tore bloody streaks across her body with every shriek of its cruel whistle.
She curled up at the alley mouth, silent, enduring the pain.
The officer, watching, noticed the bundle clutched tightly in her arms.
Curious, he approached.
“Wait. Stop. Check what’s in that bag.”
The soldier kicked her, then hooked the bundle with his whip.
With a ripping sound, the bag tore open, spilling strange objects.
“What the hell—”
He never finished.
The little girl stretched out a trembling arm, placing it over the bundle.
“Fire... flame...”
The noble officer bent closer.
When he saw clearly, his face turned pale.
His scream tore the air: “It’s a bomb—”
The small, blackened hand in his gaze lit up with a faint glow.
Time seemed to stop.
The glow burst into dazzling light, devouring the darkness.
“Boom!”