Chapter 2 Neither Holy, Nor Empire.

“General Mackensen, we have shown you enough respect, and we hope you will grant us the respect we deserve.”

The questioning middle-aged officer stared at Mackensen and spoke with a hint of displeasure: “At least when referring to my country, please use her full name.”

Mackensen let out a cold laugh upon hearing this: “Full name? The Holy Britannian Empire? What connection do you people have to holy?”

“Neither holy, nor, for that matter, an empire.”

Well, this general was also a master of verbal sparring.

The conversation, however, allowed Morin to acquire more information in a short time. The mysterious voice in his head sounded again, and the ‘Information’ interface was updated synchronously.

[Current Information Collection: 9%]

[The Holy Britannian Empire, with its capital in the Britannian Isles region, occupies numerous colonies worldwide and is an autocratic state ruled by the blood relatives of the Emperor’s family.]

This time, even without the system’s prompt, Morin could guess from the name alone that this was definitely the other-world version of Great Britain… Although Morin didn’t know if this country had any connection to the ‘superpower’ in a certain old-school ACG work.

What was certain was that this country likely did not have a good relationship with the Saxon Empire. For some reason, both empires had currently dispatched military forces to the Kingdom of Aragon, where they all currently were, but they did not seem to have officially engaged in battle yet.

And these Britannian soldiers seemed to have achieved the ‘Other-world Li Yunlong’ accomplishment—ambushing a Saxon Empire Military Observation Group and capturing Morin and his companions.

On the other side, Lieutenant General Mackensen’s abusive language successfully earned him a ‘cordial’ response from the other party.

Following a few solid blows, Lieutenant General Mackensen crashed to the ground, chair and all.

And these three Britannian—fine, Holy Britannian officers—did not forget Morin either, giving him a round of punches and kicks that also sent him sprawling to the floor.

Immediately after, two pistols were pressed against the two men’s groins.

“Our patience is limited. We’ll ask you one last time: are you Saxon people planning to intervene in the Aragon Kingdom’s civil war? What are your military deployment plans?!”

“Just shoot me, for God’s sake, I really don’t know anything…” Morin said weakly. All he wanted now was for them to end his misery and, even more so, not to suffer the pain of ‘having his nuts scrambled.’

When he said this, however, the Britannian officer in front of him lowered his gun, a cold sneer surfacing on his face.

“Very well. Your loyalty to your country earns my respect. However, that only makes me more certain that you must possess valuable intelligence.”

Lying on the ground, Morin felt a sense of despair mixed with irony. He turned his head, spat out a mouthful of blood and said:

“No, what are you people thinking? I’m just a mere Second Lieutenant! How could I possibly hold the military intelligence you need?!”

“It is precisely because you are only a Second Lieutenant that it is so illogical!”

“If you weren’t someone important, or didn’t hold vital intelligence, why would you appear in an officer group where the lowest rank is Major?! And ride in the same vehicle as a Lieutenant General?!”

“Wait… is that how it was?”

“Bang!”

Another heavy kick landed, causing Morin’s vision to black out momentarily.

“Go ahead and keep pretending. Once you’re taken to the professional interrogation room in the rear, I’ll give you a proper ‘welcome.’ I hope your mouth can still be as tough then.” The Britannian officer grinned, revealing a sinister smile.

Just as he was about to say more, the cellar door opened, and a younger-looking officer hurriedly rushed down the stairs.

The young officer reported something urgently to his colleagues in a language Morin had never heard before. Yet, to his surprise, Morin found that he could understand it. The tone and pronunciation of this language were similar to the English from his world before he transmigrated.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on distinguishing the jumbled syllables, which were automatically translated into meaning he could comprehend in his mind.

“Major! The hastily constructed perimeter defense is under attack! It’s the Saxon people, and another group… another group of unidentified armed personnel!”

The young officer’s voice was full of panic.

As he spoke, a series of muffled explosions and sporadic gunshots also filtered in through the open cellar door, much clearer than before.

The atmosphere in the cellar instantly tightened.

The face of the leading Britannian Major turned extremely grim. He kicked Lieutenant General Mackensen’s chair.

“Transfer them to the rear immediately! Hurry!”

“Yes, sir!”

The young officer acknowledged the order and immediately turned to run up the stairs, intending to call people down for help.

But as soon as he stepped onto the first stair, a deafening explosion came from outside.

Boom!

The entire cellar shook, and dust sifted down from the ceiling.

The young officer stumbled, cried out, and tumbled down the short wooden staircase.

Before he could even get up, a tall dark figure leapt down from the cellar entrance.

The figure landed solidly, and a foot clad in a heavy military boot came down hard on the young officer’s chest.

A sharp ‘crack’ sound followed—the sound of breaking ribs.

Before the young officer could fully scream, the dark figure’s rifle was pointed at his head.

“Bang!”

The close-range blast erupted in the cellar, stinging Morin’s eardrums.

The young officer’s head burst open like a watermelon, red and white matter splashing everywhere.

Immediately after, three or four more dark figures filed in. Their movements were swift and their coordination seamless, making hardly any unnecessary noise.

The remaining two Britannian officers reacted quickly, raising their weapons and pulling the trigger towards the cellar entrance. But aside from the gunshots, only a few ‘clangs’ and a few sparks scraped in the darkness could be heard.

The next moment, three dark figures rushed forward with a speed Morin could not track. They held up what looked like round shield-like defensive gear, which unbelievably blocked the pistol bullets fired at close range, before violently knocking down their respective targets.

“Puff! Puff!”

The sound of sharp blades slicing through fabric and piercing flesh came next.

The three Britannian officers collapsed limply into pools of blood without even a chance to groan. The Major who had previously punched and threatened Morin and Lieutenant General Mackensen twitched as he fell right beside Morin. His eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly at Morin, seemingly unable to believe he had just died like this.

Morin had no mind to spare for the dead man at the moment. All his attention was drawn to these sudden attackers.

The fight was over too quickly, in a matter of mere seconds.

Only then, by the light of the remaining oil lamps, could Morin clearly see the attackers’ attire.

The attackers were wearing the same style of field gray uniform as himself and Lieutenant General Mackensen. This was good news, suggesting these attackers were very likely from their own side.

However, over their military uniforms, these armed men wore a set of breastplates, spaulders, and vambraces that shone with a cold metallic light. The plate armor covered their chest, shoulders, and arms, looking ancient yet full of power, and seemingly incredibly heavy. On their heads was a great helm that completely covered their faces.

What truly caused Morin’s mind to freeze was seeing one of the soldiers pull a blood-dripping longsword out of the Britannian Major’s corpse, casually wipe the blood on the body’s clothes, and then return it to the scabbard at his waist.

Bolt-action rifle, plate armor, and cold steel weapons… What was going on here?

Morin felt his worldview shattered once again. How could medieval heavy armored knights appear here?

However, Morin couldn’t dwell on it. After a brief moment of thought, he addressed the armed soldiers in a somewhat weak voice:

“I’m fine! Save the Lieutenant General first!”