Returning to the present, as the forgotten "Spell Jaegers" prepared to launch an attack alongside a new wave of the Britannian Expeditionary Force...
Morin and his four General's Guard members had just cleared a section of the trench, and the instruction unit soldiers were arriving one after another through the communication trenches. When that bizarre blue signal flare dissipated in the air and the anticipated devastating strike did not arrive, Morin did not breathe a sigh of relief like the others.
On the contrary, his intuition, honed on the edge of life and death multiple times, was frantically giving warning signs—this time it really wasn't the system giving a warning, at least not yet.
But Morin didn't have time to dwell on that unknown threat, because the current battle situation had already turned into a pot of porridge.
The high-EQ way to put it is that the forces of both sides were continuously engaged in a fierce battle for the first firing trench of the Saxon defense line.
The low-EQ way to put it is that the frontline command of both sides had basically failed, and everyone was fighting blindly.
In this era where radios were only sufficient for division and brigade-level communication, walkie-talkies were completely non-existent, and orders for units below the regiment level relied on human messengers, frontline combat basically depended on the grassroots officers of both sides "relying on their own abilities"...
Right now, Morin, leading the General's Guard and relying on unreasonable individual combat power and the close-quarters dominance of the scattergun, forcefully "washed" this section of the firing trench. But this was merely a tiny slice of the grand battlefield.
Even for the less than 1-kilometer position responsible by the entire instruction unit and the 93rd Infantry Regiment, this section of the firing trench was only one-tenth of the length.
After consolidating this position and having the catching-up instruction unit soldiers guard the flanks and the No Man's Land ahead, Morin took out the main unit of the "Portable Magitech Communication Prototype" while looking at the system map and started "micromanaging."
"All chicks, attention. This is Mother Hen calling, prepare to receive orders!"
"1st Battalion, 2nd Battalion, assign a portion of men to hold No Man's Land. The remaining units, press towards the flanks for me!"
"We've almost fought our way into a salient here. You must find a way to support the other friendly forces on the flanks, so they can also advance and protect our flanks!"
"The 1st Battalion headquarters can converge towards me. My current position is at the intersection of 'Linden Avenue' and 'King's Path'!" Morin's voice transmitted clearly to the ears of the battalion-level commanders of the instruction unit through the main unit of the "Portable Magitech Communication Prototype."
The painful experience at Charleroi had left an extremely deep shadow on Morin.
You can imagine, for a young battalion commander, how much psychological damage it causes to forcefully withstand the attack of an infantry division.
So even with this group of well-equipped and well-trained instruction unit soldiers in hand now, he did not want to experience the sour feeling of being flanked on three sides again.
So the first order he issued was to find a way to expand the salient created by the instruction unit.
"3rd Battalion, attention. Hurry up and converge with the Regimental Headquarters... Take my orders to the Deputy Regimental Commander and the others. You, along with the Regimental Headquarters and all regiment-directly-subordinate units, form a 'Reserve Force.' Deploy behind the 1st and 2nd Battalions as a strongpoint and be ready to move up and support at any time!"
Because the width of the position responsible by the instruction unit and the 93rd Infantry Regiment was limited and couldn't allow all units to deploy, Morin also adopted the most traditional method—establishing a reserve force to increase defense thickness and depth.
Orders were issued one after another. Although the sub-units couldn't respond, the officers of the instruction unit executed Morin's orders unconditionally.
With unified dispatching, the originally chaotic battle situation began to become clear.
And Morin's return to the battlefield and direct command also greatly boosted the morale of the instruction unit for a time.
"Lieutenant Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel Morin is back!"
"Great, notify all companies to continue the attack, tell them His Excellency the Lieutenant Colonel is stabilizing the battle line at the very front!"
"God bless, our backbone is finally back!"
These messages were like a shot of adrenaline, instantly injected into this chaotic defense line.
The eyes of the instruction unit soldiers, who were originally fighting somewhat chaotically, lit up differently the moment they learned the regimental commander had personally joined the battle.
In this instruction unit he founded single-handedly, Morin's prestige had already reached an absurd level.
Especially since he usually trained with everyone else, and from time to time organized physical, combat, and shooting competitions, torturing all the top fighters in the regiment.
If at first the awe the instruction unit personnel had for him came more from a military rank far exceeding his peers...
Then now, everyone's admiration for Morin was genuine in all aspects.
Young, wealthy, highly skilled in tactics and techniques, well-connected, and a spellcaster who dared to go to the front lines...
The impact brought by this contrast was huge.
Coupled with the fact that Morin might really have some kind of "succubus constitution," in short, those young noble officers who initially liked to jump out as troublemakers now all showed a situation akin to a "personality cult."
They privately called Morin "a real Mann," a "man among men"...
And aligned their own style of acting in training, combat, and command closer to this legendary Lieutenant Colonel.
Although it sounded a bit bromantic, this truly represented the highest respect these young officers had for their regimental commander.
At the same time, the roar of artillery fire on the battlefield became deafening again.
The Britannian Expeditionary Force obviously didn't intend to give the Saxons any chance to breathe. They knew deeply that the longer time dragged on, the more disadvantageous the situation would be for them.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Artillery fire continuously exploded on the Saxon positions, dirt splashing and black smoke billowing.
And the subsequent echelons of the expeditionary force's attacking troops also began to launch attacks under the cover of artillery fire.
But obviously, in terms of artillery quality, the Saxon First Army Group still had a slight upper hand.
Not to mention the two armored trains and two armored airships providing mobile support along the battle line.
The entire First Army Group also substantially strengthened the quantity and quality of its artillery through railway transportation during the period from September to December.
In hidden positions more than ten kilometers to the rear, several technical representatives of the Krupp company were looking with excitement at the steel behemoths roaring before them.
This was the latest reinforcement given to the First Army Group, the 15cm Schnelladekanone L/40 in Räderlafette—a 15cm 40-caliber rapid-fire cannon on a wheeled carriage.
Essentially, this thing was an "emergency product" created by the Krupp company to meet the army's needs in a short time by taking 150mm 40-caliber naval guns dismantled from retired pre-dreadnoughts and mounting them on wheeled carriages.
The clumsy box-trail carriage did not have the ability to change its horizontal field of fire, so a concrete platform had to be built in advance on the position.
The curved iron rails on this platform could link with the tail wheel of the carriage to allow the artillery to rotate left and right.
But the problem was, this heavy gun itself only weighed 12 tons, while the weight of this platform was as high as 7.4 tons, which caused the preliminary position construction to be extremely troublesome.
But these problems, in the face of the considerable power it brought, weren't that important anymore.
The barrel, several meters long, was slightly raised. The storm formed at the muzzle the instant it fired even messed up the hair of people outside the safe distance.
A 45-kilogram heavy shell with a 4.6-kilogram explosive charge, propelled by 9.6 kilograms of propellant, tore through the air and flew toward the horizon with an astonishing muzzle velocity.
A maximum range of 18.7 kilometers made them the kings in this artillery duel.
This allowed the Saxon artillery to suppress the Britannian Expeditionary Force's artillery from outside a safe distance even without the help of armored airships and armored trains.
Based on this advantage, the First Army Group artillery commander adopted the strategy of "striking later."
When the Britannian Expeditionary Force initiated artillery preparation before attacking, multiple artillery observation balloons rose over the First Army Group's positions.
Besides providing guidance for the subsequent artillery counterattack, the more important point was to determine the approximate locations of the Britannian artillery by observing distant muzzle flashes.
The long-range artillery currently equipped by the Britannian Expeditionary Force were mainly Magic Crystal Cannons and QF 18-pounder guns.
The former had huge power, and under specific circumstances, its accuracy and anti-personnel lethality were unique, but its maximum range was a pitiful 4.5 kilometers.
And although the latter could reach a maximum rate of fire of 30 rounds per minute, its maximum range was only 5.9 kilometers.
So they basically could only be deployed to the front lines for use, and it was relatively easy to discover them through artillery observation balloons in the air.
"Report! Observation balloon sent back information, discovering multiple enemy field gun positions and three suspected Magic Crystal Cannon positions! Approximate coordinates confirmed!"
"Based on the calculated positions, assign them to the various artillery units. Hit them hard for me!"
The artillery commander of the First Army Group fiercely swung his fist:
"Let's teach these country bumpkins from the island nation what real firepower coverage and counter-battery fire are!"
"Boom!!"
The counterattack from the Saxon side came exceptionally fiercely.
Countless shells crossed the frontline combat area and smashed onto the artillery positions in the rear of the expeditionary force.
Previously, after the Britannian Expeditionary Force's first round of artillery preparation ended and the first wave of attacking troops initiated the charge...
The artillery of the Saxon First Army Group began to focus their attacks on the junction between the expeditionary force's first and second trenches, hindering the follow-up of their subsequent troops.
And not long after Morin and the others retook the first firing trench, and the Saxon infantry in various trenches also began to counterattack, the artillery detached a portion to start attacking those exposed enemy artillery positions.
These QF 18-pounder guns and Magic Crystal Cannons, which had been pushed to a few kilometers away to support the front line, now became the most conspicuous targets.
At a certain Magic Crystal Cannon position, several cannons that were roaring just a moment ago were directly covered by multiple 150mm heavy howitzer shells.
The violent explosions triggered the catastrophic detonation of the magitech cores of these Magic Crystal Cannons. Blue energy ripples instantly spread out, flattening everything within dozens of meters.
And the losses of those QF 18-pounder gun positions were even more severe, basically in a state of "discovered equals destroyed"...
"Damn it! The Saxons' artillery fire is too fierce! Requesting to change positions!"
"No! The front line is still attacking! Fire support must be provided!"
Although this round of "counter-battery combat" caused heavy losses to the Britannian Expeditionary Force's already disadvantaged artillery, the weakening artillery obscuration effect of the Saxon artillery also led the commanders of the expeditionary force's frontline units to desperately order the attack to continue.
Because they had no way back.
The Saxons' supply and troop transportation via railway lines was obviously much more efficient than their shipping across the Channel, so the longer time dragged on, the more disadvantageous it was for them.
"Have the second wave press up quickly!"
"All reserve units push up! Even if we have to fill it with corpses, we must fill this trench flat!"
Under such orders, the Britannian soldiers erupted with a desperate courage.
The khaki-uniformed soldiers used battalions as tactical units, and then company by company in continuous waves assaulted that blood-soaked defense line.
After the first few waves of probing, the military mages of the expeditionary force also began to join the battle.
The Highland Mage Order currently dispatched a total of 62 mages to the expeditionary force, which was equivalent to mobilizing one-tenth of the members of the entire Highland Mage Order.
Although more than 90% were Tier-5 and below mages, above this was an 8th-Tier Transmutation School mage holding the fort. This was also the current biggest reliance of the Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force, John French.
On the position defended by the Instruction Assault Battalion, two Highland Mages also participated in the attacking wave of the expeditionary force.
And amidst this wave, Morin led the 1st Battalion of the instruction unit like a stubborn reef firmly nailed to the position, remaining steadfast despite the pounding wind and waves.
"Take cover! The second wave of attacks is coming!"
Warning bells and whistles rang out one after another in the trench.
Morin, who had just driven back a wave of Britannian infantry, hadn't even had time to wipe the sweat from his face when he felt the magical fluctuations in the air suddenly become frantic.
That feeling was like someone throwing a boulder into calm water, ripples instantly spreading.
Morin took a moment to glance at the system map, only to find that in the part where the fog of war had been cleared, two specially marked mage units appeared.
"Highland Mages have also come up!"
Morin spat out a mouthful of saliva. Feeling the increasingly restless magic in the air, he grabbed a young soldier beside him who was still poking his head out to shoot, and pushed him down below the trench parapet.
Almost at the same time, several dazzling chain lightnings descended from the sky, exploding over the trench like wildly dancing silver snakes.
"Zzzt—"
Electric currents coursed through the damp dirt, making scalp-numbing popping sounds.
Although they had the trench as cover, a few instruction unit soldiers who couldn't dodge in time were still caught by the electric current, screaming and falling into the muddy water twitching.
But this was only the beginning of the magical attacks.
Immediately following, regardless of whether the opposing Highland Mages belonged to the "Cult of the Five Fireballs" or carried a sufficient number of [Fireball] scrolls or magical equipment, in short, several huge fireballs consecutively whistled down.
"Boom! Boom!"
Although it was a Tier-3 spell, the power of Fireball was truly not weak. The shockwave generated by the explosion mixed with high-temperature airwaves instantly turned this section of the trench into a giant oven.
The dirt was scorched black, and the air was filled with a pungent smell of sulfur.
Morin pressed closely against the wall of the foxhole. Feeling the violent vibrations coming from above, his expression inevitably became somewhat gloomy.
These Britannians weren't NPCs either, but were rapidly learning in the war at a not-so-slow speed.
Mages were no exception...
They no longer stood foolishly in place as targets like before, but mixed in with the attacking infantry groups, relying on [Mage Armor] and [Shield] to forcefully withstand bullets and charge into casting range.
Then frantically releasing direct-damage spells like Fireball, Chain Lightning, Scorching Ray, and Ice Storm.
Use hit-and-run tactic and not lingering in combat like those mages who died suddenly on the battlefield.
This was obviously a "survival tactic" summarized by the Highland Mage Order after suffering too many losses.
Not long after, Morin also spotted a Highland Mage wearing a dark blue robe in No Man's Land more than a hundred meters away.
Around him, several heavy armor soldiers held up shields surrounding him tightly, and there was even a Vickers heavy machine gun mounted nearby providing suppressive fire.
"That's... a scroll?!"
Morin's pupils shrank violently.
That mage tore open a scroll emitting magical radiance in his hand.
The next second, the earth began to tremble.
"Rumble..."
It wasn't vibrations caused by artillery bombardment, but a muffled sound from deep underground.
Morin felt the ground beneath his feet seeming to get angry. Immediately after, the dirt wall in front of that section of the trench actually began to squirm and collapse bizarrely.
Tons of dirt tumbled into the trench like it was alive, crushing even the concrete used to reinforce the trench.
Several soldiers who were mounting weapons and shooting didn't even have time to let out a scream before they were buried alive underneath.
A huge gap instantly appeared on the defense line of the instruction unit's 1st Battalion.
"Damn it! A gap! That's a gap!"
"The Britannians are charging up!"
The Britannian infantry in the distance obviously had been waiting for this moment. Like sharks smelling blood, they howled and surged toward that gap.
"Heavy machine guns! Seal that opening for me! Don't let them in!"
Morin instantly felt things going bad. He grabbed the submachine gun at hand and was about to charge over with the guard.
Fortunately, the 1st Battalion also discovered this gap at this time, and the mortar detachment under the Firepower Company immediately began countermeasures.
At the mortar positions in the rear, the hands of some gunners were already rubbed raw, but their movements were still astonishingly fast.
Mortar shells slid into the barrels one after another, the "thump-thump-thump" sounds of firing connecting into a continuous sequence.
A few seconds later, the area dozens of meters in front of that gap was instantly covered by the firelight of explosions.
A large swath of charging Britannian soldiers fell heavily, severed limbs flying everywhere.
But even so, some people still charged into the gap.
"Kill!!"
The soldiers of both sides collided at this narrow gap, unfolding the most primitive and cruel hand-to-hand combat.
Entrenching shovels, bayonets, rifle butts, and even fists and teeth; everything that could be used to kill people was put to use.
When Morin arrived, a familiar-looking second lieutenant was being pressed into the muddy water by two burly Britannian soldiers, a bayonet hovering right above his throat.
"Bang! Bang!"
Morin raised his hand and fired two short bursts, taking down the two men.
And the second lieutenant took the opportunity to roll over and get up, picked up the Luger pistol dropped on the ground, and fired several shots consecutively at the enemies charging up from behind.
"Thanks, sir!"
Hearing this voice, Morin looked closely and realized it was Rommel—he was currently serving as the temporary company commander of the 3rd Company, 1st Battalion.
Under the situation where the instruction unit's fire density far exceeded the enemy's, as a company commander, he had already fallen into hand-to-hand combat and almost capsized. It could be imagined how fierce the attack of the Britannian Expeditionary Force opposite the trench was at this time.
"Don't be polite at this time. Hurry up and rally the men under you, you must hold this position!"
"Yes, sir!" Rommel didn't hesitate either and immediately turned and left.
Morin nodded, then kicked away a corpse blocking the way, stood at the edge of the gap, the submachine gun in his hand spewing tongues of fire, reaping the enemies attempting to charge in like a god of death.
After emptying all the spells prepared for today and using up appropriate scrolls, the two mages also strictly adhered to the Highland Mages' latest rules of engagement and quickly retreated.
After the situation of continuously losing quite a few mages previously, the Highland Mage Order also adjusted the rules of engagement.
The latest rules of engagement allowed... or rather required them to disengage from combat when the prepared spells were used up or protective spells were insufficient.
The two mages glanced at that gap forcefully blocked by Morin and his men, a trace of unwillingness flashing in their eyes, but ultimately they rationally chose to leave.
The latest rules of engagement saved their lives, but also made them miss the opportunity to completely crush this defense line.
"Leaving just like that..."
Morin looked at those few retreating figures. Just as he was about to make a sharp comment, he found a conspicuous red unit card suddenly popping up on the map, carrying a rare high-danger warning.
[Holy Britannia Empire - Operation Queen's Blade Team - "Spell Jaeger" Team A]
When Morin saw the term "Spell Jaeger," his first thought actually went to the Gauls' "Sentinel Project."
This term wasn't hard for him to understand, but on the real battlefield, this was the first time encountering it.
And the "High Danger" evaluation given by the system made him instantly vigilant.
Even when those two Highland Mages were throwing fireballs just now, the system didn't give such a high evaluation.
This showed that this squad was absolutely not someone to mess with.
Soon, based on the markings on the map, Morin locked onto that group of figures mixed among the ordinary infantry, but moving obviously more agilely and equipped more bizarrely.
Although a batch of them also wore the robes of the Highland Mage Order, the weapons slung on their backs were rifles...
Realizing the situation was not simple, Morin narrowed his eyes. And even hundreds of meters away, he could feel that unsettling aura exuding from those few people.
That wasn't purely the magical fluctuation of mages, but a more restrained, more dangerous murderous intent.
Like a pack of hunting wolves wearing human skin finally baring their fangs.
"Team A in position."
"Confirmed target area, right near that gap."
"That guy wearing the Saxon officer uniform and holding a strange short gun should be 'Friedrich Morin'."
Amidst the chaotic noise of the battlefield, a low voice rang in the ears of the eleven Team A members through some kind of short-range communication stone.
This was the captain of Team A, a middle-aged man called "Pops" by the other team members.
At this moment, he was lying at the edge of a half-collapsed crater, holding a specially modified Lee-Enfield short rifle.
This gun was not only equipped with an optical sight, but the barrel was densely engraved with runes, and the stock was made of some rare wood used to craft staves.
According to the magic artisans, these modifications could optimize the trajectory during shooting, and even carry some weak magic-breaking effects.
"Except that it's not a true magic weapon, it has reached the level of magic weapons in all aspects!"
This was the exact words of the magic artisan...
So when using it right now, Pops also cast [Magic Weapon] on this rifle himself.
Making it become a true magic weapon during the spell's duration, further increasing its power.
And in his optical sight, that Saxon Lieutenant Colonel loudly commanding at the gap with efficient movements flickered in and out of view.
"This is the guy who's given those MI6 folks headaches for half a year?"
The corner of Pops's mouth curved into an arc, "Looks quite young... Being able to become a Tier-3 or Tier-4 mage at this age, it seems his talent is far stronger than us folks."
Ahead of him, the other 5 Spell Jaegers and 5 Heavy Armor Sergeants were continuously bounding forward using different craters.
They were not the kind of mage lords who only knew how to chant spells in towers, nor were they grunts who only knew how to charge on orders.
They were the eliminated ones, the forgotten ones.
But in that remote country estate, after years of cruel training day after day, they turned themselves into a special kind of weapon.
Capable of using simple cantrips and low-tier spells to assist combat, and also using firearms and cold weapons like seasoned hunters.
"Remember the tactics, groups of two, alternating cover."
Pops issued the final instructions through the communication stone:
"Heavy Armor Sergeants are responsible for drawing fire, I'm responsible for calling roll (sniping), the others prioritize taking out the guards around that Morin, those are four big guys."
"Understood."
"Move!"
With an order, this small squad of assassins originally lying dormant in the shadows of the battlefield suddenly moved.
At this moment, they displayed an astonishing speed, quickly closing in on the gap, forming a semi-encirclement against Morin and the four General's Guard members.
And in that crater behind them, Pops held the rifle, precisely locking onto any Saxon soldier who dared to show his head.
"Bang!"
A crisp gunshot.
An instruction unit soldier at the gap who just wanted to poke his head out to throw a grenade instantly had a spray of blood erupt from his head, falling backward.
Morin whipped his head around and happened to see this scene.
"Sniper? No... this distance, this accuracy..."
Before he could react, that heart-palpitating sense of danger struck again.
"Watch out!"
He roared almost subconsciously, simultaneously pulling the two soldiers beside him back down.
"Thwip! Thwip!"
Two bullets, with an extremely short interval, one after the other hit exactly the position they were just standing, splashing up two sprays of mud.
"Good heavens... Shooting this fast, and still this accurate?"
By this time, Morin also realized that these suddenly appearing "Spell Jaegers" should be a completely different breed from the Gauls' Sentinels.
"Moritz! Mount your machine gun! Suppress that crater to the northwest! Someone is sniping from there!"
Morin got up from the muddy water, issuing orders while his eyes instantly turned icy cold.
Those red dots on the system map were rapidly approaching, showing a rare trace of oppression.
"Da-da-da-da-da..."
The muffled roar of the MG08 heavy machine gun sounded again.
Moritz's massive body was like a steel fortress. The machine gun in his hands spewed long tongues of fire, bullets sweeping like a rainstorm toward those approaching figures.
However, a faint green fluorescence suddenly lit up on those charging Heavy Armor Sergeants.
[Haste]
This was a Tier-3 Transmutation spell that could allow the recipient to gain the effect of doubled speed and attack frequency for a short time.
Under the buff of this spell, the speed of those several Heavy Armor Sergeants suddenly doubled. Like out-of-control motorcycles weaving through the rain of bullets, the bullets chased behind their butts kicking up rows of mud pillars, but always half a beat too slow.
And just as the machine gun fire was drawn away, the Spell Jaegers behind made their move.
Two Jaegers poked their heads out from behind cover. They didn't hold guns in their hands, but quickly made a few hand gestures.
"Buzz..."
A large puddle of extremely slippery grease appeared out of thin air under Moritz's feet.
Not an attack spell, but an improved [Grease].
"Not good!"
No matter how steady the footing of Moritz—this Plate Armor Superman— was, under this sudden change, his feet couldn't help but slip.
That heavy body instantly lost balance, the muzzle of the machine gun in his hands tilting up along with it, all bullets firing into the sky.
"Beautifully done!"
A flash of sharp light crossed Pops's eyes, and he pulled the trigger again.
This time, his target was not Morin, but that heavy machine gun that had just misfired.
"Bang!"
This enchanted bullet precisely hit the water-cooling jacket of the MG08.
"Bang! Bang!"
Immediately followed by two more shots, accurately hitting the already damaged water-cooling jacket in an extremely short time.
Even as an enemy, Morin couldn't help but marvel at this instant that the other party's marksmanship was truly astonishing.
The entire jacket instantly ruptured, scalding hot water spraying out, and even the barrel inside was somewhat deformed.
"Press up! They're down a heavy weapon!"
Seeing this scene, the ordinary Britannian infantry who were originally waiting and watching also acted like they were injected with chicken blood, howling and charging up behind those Heavy Armor Sergeants.
Inside the trench, Moritz climbed up from the ground, looked at the severely damaged heavy machine gun in his hands, frowned and threw it on the ground, then took a mace handed over by a companion.
At the same time, there was no trace of panic in Morin's eyes; instead, a near-fanatic desire for battle ignited.
"Interesting..."
He glanced at the system map. That squad named "Spell Jaegers" was already very close to the trench.
Regarding the Britannians suddenly producing such a combat squad, Morin was somewhat surprised.
Using low-tier spells combined with superb tactical literacy, treating spells as tactical items rather than purely firepower output.
This line of thinking... was very advanced, and extremely close to Morin's own constant conceptions...
But unfortunately, they ran into Morin.
A guy who perhaps understood better than them how to combine magic with modern warfare.
"It wasn't in vain that I stayed up late last night preparing the 'Anti-Mage' combo. Originally intended to deal with high-tier Highland Mages..." Morin glanced at the spell slots he prepared last night:
Tier-1 Spell Slots: Mage Armor x2, Shield x2 Tier-2 Spell Slots: Misty Step x2, Magic Weapon Tier-3 Spell Slots: Blink, Counterspell, Dispel Magic, Haste, Mage Armor (Empowered), Shield (Empowered) Tier-4 Spell Slots: Greater Invisibility, Enhance Ability (Upcast), Magic Weapon (Upcast)
In the previous battle, he only used one [Mage Armor] and one [Shield] from his Tier-1 spell slots.
So the spells prepared in hand right now could be said to be very abundant...
Morin slung the MP14 submachine gun behind his back and picked up the gold-plated double-barreled shotgun again.
Blue magical radiance flowed along his fingers into the gun body, and rings of complex inscriptions faintly surfaced on that originally ordinary barrel—[Magic Weapon] (Upcast Casting)
[You touch a nonmagical weapon, and make it a magic weapon for the duration of the spell. When cast using a spell slot of 4th level or higher, the effect doubles.]
"Everyone, attention! Anti-magic combat! Prepare to engage the enemy!"
Morin roared loudly, his voice drowning out the noise in the trench at this instant.
Before his voice faded, those Heavy Armor Sergeants buffed with speed had already charged to the edge of the gap.
The leading sergeant leapt high into the air. The two-handed greatsword in his hands carried a whistling wind sound as it fiercely hacked toward an instruction unit soldier.
However, just at the instant the blade was about to fall...
"Bang!"
A gunshot.
The body of that sergeant still in mid-air violently jolted, that greatsword flying out of his hands, looking like he was elbowed down from mid-air.
Right in the center of his breastplate was a terrifying bullet hole.
That thick layer of refined steel breastplate was as brittle as paper in the face of the magically enhanced 12-gauge slug.
Morin stood in the trench, holding the still-smoking double-barreled shotgun, his eyes coldly looking at those charging enemies.
"Come on, hunters."
"Let's see who the real prey is."