Chapter 137: Viva La Revolution (Part 2)

Bastolle Prison, Ximba’s Cell

Deep within the lowest level of Bastolle Prison, far beneath stone and iron, Ximba and the others could hear it. Its muffled and distant, but unmistakable. The sound of chaos.

“What’s happening?” Poomba muttered, ears twitching.

“It sounds like the guards are fighting an army,” Timun said, pressing closer to the wall, trying to make sense of the distant echoes.

“Father,” Ximba called out, gripping the iron bars of his cell, “do you think it’s Count Tigger trying to free us?”

Across from him, in another cell, Mufasa remained still.

“I don’t know, son,” Mufasa replied, his voice calm but tense. “I’ve never heard that Count Tigger could gather troops like this.”

The noise outside grew louder for a brief moment, then dipped again into a steady, chaotic rhythm.

Ximba exhaled slowly.

“Let’s just be prepared for whatever’s coming to us.”

---

Bastolle Prison, South Gate

The fighting had fully shifted to the South Gate. There were no more warnings. No more negotiations. Only violence.

Guards and mercenaries lined the battlements, firing arrows and muskets down at the mass below. Smoke drifted across the walls as shots rang out in uneven bursts. Below them, the mob returned fire. Arrows flew upward in scattered volleys. And also something else, something faster and louder.

RATATATATATATATATAT.

The guards flinched as a relentless stream of bullets tore into the battlements, forcing them to duck behind the stone walls. The cannons—their biggest advantage—remained silent. Not by choice.

“CANNON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” an officer shouted from below the wall. “SHOOT THOSE DAMN CROWD!”

“WE’RE BEING PINNED DOWN!” an artillery crew member shouted back, crouched low behind the battlement.

“The mobs’ muskets keep firing non-stop! It’s raining bullets every time we peek!” Another artillery crew added

“What do you mean?!” the officer snapped. “Since when do slum mobs have muskets?! And non-stop ones?!”

“How the fuck should I know?!” the artillery crew yelled back, not moving an inch from cover.

---

Outside the gate, the mob surged forward.

At the center of it, a battering ram advanced. It was crude—just a massive tree trunk chopped from nearby—but effective enough for the job.

A group of beastmen carried it, their hooves pounding against the ground in rhythm as they drove it forward.

Then—

THUD.

The ram slammed into the gate again.

THUD.

And again.

“Say… what were we doing again?” a sheep beastman asked, still pushing with full effort.

“Relieving our long-lasting grudges toward the authority!” an elephant beastman beside him roared. “HUAHAHAHAHA!”

“Ah… okay…” the sheep replied, still pushing.

Another impact.

THUD.

“…Grudges of what again?” The sheep asked again.

---

Meanwhile at the center of the mob, Bella had taken position behind a wooden cart, her machine gun mounted and aimed steadily at the battlements above. Her finger rested comfortably on the trigger.

She glanced toward the gate, watching the battering ram team at work. Her grin widened.

“Kyaaahahaha! That’s it!” Bella cheered, practically bouncing in place. “Break those goddamn doors!”

Bella’s eyes noticed something on the battlements.

Movement. A few artillery crews were getting bold again, trying to reposition the cannon toward the battering ram.

“Oh no you don’t!” Bella snapped.

RATATATATATATATATAT.

The moment they peeked out, the bullets came screaming back. The artillery crews immediately dropped again.

---

Nearby Rooftop

On a rooftop overlooking the chaos, the old noble tiger stood with his hands behind his back, watching the mob assault the prison gates.

Behind him, the two mysterious figures remained still.

“Tigger… what is happening?” the large-built figure asked.

“…I don’t know,” Tigger replied, eyes narrowed at the scene below. “Do these people want to free Mufasa and Ximba too?”

“It does seem so,” the smaller figure said. “Does Ximba have another ally capable of rallying this many people?”

“None, as far as I know,” Tigger answered.

He watched as the battering ram slammed into the gate again.

THUD.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he continued calmly. “It means we don’t have to face Scarf and his men alone now.”

---

Prostitutes Lodging

Back in the most “strategically comfortable” location in town, Solo remained surrounded by attentive company. The service had not declined, however, Solo’s mood had.

On the monitor in front of him, multiple drone feeds showed the city. Smoke rising. Fires spreading, and crowds moving.

“...Sheesh,” Solo muttered. “The revolt is spreading everywhere now.”

He leaned back slightly, scratching his head.

“It’s hopeless to find the Misfits at this point.”

Then—

Movement at the window. A familiar, small figure climbed in. The gremlin messenger had returned, and it was carrying something. A roll of paper strapped on its back.

“Ah, you’re back. Good job,” Solo said.

“Kiii,” the gremlin replied proudly.

It pulled the oversized scroll from its back—somehow managing to carry something bigger than its own body—and handed it over.

Solo raised an eyebrow as he took it.

“There’s a reply from the dwarf merchant?” he muttered, unrolling the paper.

He read in silence for a moment, then glanced at Candy beside him.

“Good news,” Solo said. “The dwarf merchant agreed to bring you all back to Dwargonia.”

For a brief moment there was silence. Then it hit. Candy’s face lit up, so did everyone else’s.

Cheers broke out instantly. The girls hugged each other, some laughing, some nearly crying. Hope, after a very long time, finally decided to show up.

“But the bad news is,” Solo added.

The cheering stopped mid-celebration.

“He’s leaving in three hours.”

Silence dropped again.

“The revolt scared him,” Solo continued calmly. “He’s leaving before things get worse.”

He stood up.

“Pack your stuff, only bring essentials. We’re leaving in 30 minutes.”

The girls looked at each other. Shocked, confused, trying to catch up with how fast everything just flipped.

Then—

Resolve settled in.

“Alright girls, you heard the man!” one of the senior prostitutes called out. “Pack up! Don’t bring unnecessary stuff or anything that’ll slow us down!”

She clapped her hands sharply.

“Chop-chop!”

The room exploded into motion. Drawers opened. Bags were thrown onto beds. Clothes, coins, small keepsakes, everything was suddenly being evaluated under one simple rule:

Can I carry this and still run? If the answer was no, it stayed behind.

Candy quickly made her way toward Solo.

“Mr. Solo, how can we thank you?” she asked sincerely.

Solo, meanwhile, was already moving. A weapon came out from his subspace bag. Then another item. He checked them one by one with calm efficiency.

“Miss Candy, it’s too early,” Solo said without looking up. “You can thank me later when you’re all safely on the ship.”

Only then did he glance at her.

“Hurry up and pack,” Solo added firmly.

Candy nodded immediately and turned back to her things, the hesitation gone.

Solo shifted his attention. On the table, the gremlin squad had been standing by this entire time.

“Alright, boys,” Solo said, stepping closer. “Here’s the plan.”

The gremlins leaned in.

---

Bastolle Prison, South Gate

The situation had settled into an ugly stalemate at the south gate. The guards held the walls, the mob held the ground. Neither side was winning.

Arrows continued to get exchanged, with occasional musket shots breaking through the rhythm. But the cannons—the one thing that could have ended this quickly—remained silent. Bella made sure of that.

On the ground, the battering ram team was still at work.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

“Shit…” an elephant beastman muttered between pushes. “This gate is sturdier than it looks.”

“Hey! What are you doing over there?!” a fox beastman from the crowd shouted.

“Are your big body only for a show?!” a komodo dragon beastman added mockingly.

“Come here and see if this is for a show when I bash your head!” a buffalo beastman snapped back, still gripping the ram.

The ones pushing the battering ram—all herbivores—were starting to get annoyed.

The ones waiting behind them—all predators—were starting to get impatient.

The gate wasn’t the only thing under pressure anymore as the tension snapped a little tighter.

Then—

“CLEAR THE WAY! CLEAR THE WAY!”

The shout came from the most back of the crowd.

“CLEAR THE WAY!”

Heads turned. The mob began to split, instinctively making space as three figures walked forward, calm and confident. Unbothered by the chaos around them.

The first was massive. A bear beastman with golden fur, one eye marked by a long scar, his body covered in battle marks that hadn’t bothered to fade.

The second was smaller. A pig beastman, dressed in assassin robes, though parts of his pink skin were still visible where the fabric didn’t quite cover everything.

And the third, walked at the center was Count Tigger. Fully armored. Longsword at his side. Moving forward like the battlefield had invited him.

“I-IT’S COUNT TIGGER!” someone in the crowd shouted. “He came to help us!”

“W-wait, is that Windigo the Poacher and Pigbled?!” another voice called out.

“Aren’t they retired already?!” someone else added.

The murmurs spread quickly. Excitement, confusion, and a bit of disbelief. But no one blocked their path. Everyone simply stepped aside and watched.

“Huh? Who’s that?” Bella muttered, glancing over her shoulder at the three newcomers.

“They were once a famous group of adventurers,” the hyena leader beside her explained. “Three beastmen and a human beastmaster. They were called the Hundred Acre Force.”

As the trio passed by, Tigger suddenly stopped. He turned and looked down at Bella.

“Are you the one who brought all these slum dwellers here, little girl?” Tigger asked.

The height difference between them was… significant.

“Uhh… I guess so,” Bella muttered.

Tigger smiled.

“Thank you,” he said calmly. “With this, we have a better chance to free our leader.”

Then he reached out and gave Bella a headpat. A very firm one. Bella froze for half a second.

Then—

“Kyaa! Your paw is so soft, hahaha!” Bella laughed, immediately accepting this development.

“TIGGER! CAN I USE HONEY TO BREAK THE GATE?!” the golden-furred bear shouted from the front.

“YES! YOU MAY!” Tigger shouted back without hesitation.

He turned back to Bella one last time.

“Let us help you break that gate.”

Then he walked away.

Bella blinked. Her brain, slightly delayed, finally caught up.

“Wait…” she tilted her head. “Our leader?”

---

At the gate, the situation shifted again as the battering ram was pulled away and the mob cleared a path. A very wide path, straight between Windigo and the prison gate.

“I hope you’re still making my special concoction, Pigbled,” Windigo said, rolling his shoulders.

“Hmph. Of course,” Pigbled replied. “I may have retired from being an assassin…”

He reached into his bag.

“…but I never retired from being an alchemist.”

He pulled out a large syringe filled with a thick, golden liquid and handed it over.

“Here you go,” Pigbled said with a grin. “The Honey.”

Windigo grinned back. Then, without hesitation he stabbed the syringe straight into his arm like someone who had done this many times before. Very happily.

The reaction was immediate. His body trembled, and it started to grow. Muscles bulged unnaturally. Veins pulsed. His already massive frame expanded even further.

Bigger, and bigger. Until the already huge bear became something else entirely. Twice the size.

The mob on the ground fell silent, and some stepped back. While up on the battlements, the guards were having a significantly worse reaction.

Windigo lifted his head and looked at the gate.

He roared.

“RROOOOOAAAAAAARRRR!!!”

Then he moved, very fast.

THUUUDDD!

The impact shook the gate and the battlements above it rattled violently. But the gate still held.

Windigo stepped back, lowered his stance and charged again.

THUUUDDDD!

This time a crack.

Windigo pulled back and dashed again with no hesitation.

CRRAAAAAACK!

The gate finally shattered. Wood splintered. Hinges tore apart. The entrance collapsed inward.

"HURRAAAAAYYY!!"

The mob erupted with cheers and shouts. It's a pure, chaotic victory.

“The gate has been breached!” Tigger shouted, raising his voice over the noise.

He raised his sword.

“CHAAAAAARGEE!!!”