Chapter 108
Battle of Tehran
As the Red Nation’s forces prepared to unleash the red mist, the
tension at Zion's base in Astana was palpable. Kassandra, glancing at the
swirling gas on the monitor, raised an eyebrow. “This is kind of a war crime,
isn’t it?”
Trickster shrugged, a sly smile on his face. “Take it or leave it!
We need to capture the Emerald League before the coalition launches another
offensive. Besides, its just a Collateral
damage. and it’s not technically a
chemical weapon. It’s… enhanced pollen. With a few… behavioral modifications.
Think of it as aggressive aromatherapy. when
they beg to peace. we will over them the anti dote. its pro gamer move!”
Zion stared at the screen, his expression troubled running a hand through
his hair. "This changes everything."
“It does,” Kassandra said, her voice firm. “This will turn the entire world
against us. We’ll be branded as monsters."
Zion, feeling the weight of the decision, relented. “Do it!
Victory is imminent, and we have nothing to lose!”
“But this will taint our reputation forever...” Kassandra warned,
her voice filled with concern.
Zion stared at the monitor as the red mist began to spread over
Tehran. He understood Kassandra's fears; committing a war crime could stain
their legacy. But a little moral ambiguity never stopped a good conquest,
right?
Fast forward to early December in Tehran. The tranquility of the
city shattered as the Red Army advanced, artillery fire echoing through the
streets. Families scrambled for safety as panic set in, and the ominous red
mist seeped into the atmosphere, forcing the Emerald League to scramble for
masks.
Artillery shells burst overhead, showering
the city with canisters that erupted in crimson smoke. Screams and frantic
groans echoed through the alleys, buildings, and apartments. The red mist
transformed all infected organisms into berserk carriers of an extreme rabies
variant. The council ordered the extermination of all animals—birds, cats,
dogs, even sewer rats—to contain the contagion. The streets echoed with
the sounds of gunfire and panicked cries.
Emerald League security forces were forced
to subdue infected civilians, resorting to leg shots or tasers. The most
agonizing task was putting down beloved pets. While the Emerald League
struggled with this grim duty, Red Army tanks rolled along the highways,
driving straight toward the capital.
“We’re doomed! The enemy is advancing! We must hold Tehran at all
costs!” Crips shouted, his voice barely rising above the chaos.
The Red Army pushed forward hard, like a
giant wave crashing against the city. The Emerald League fought back as best
they could, turning Tehran into a mess of rubble and fighting. But they weren't
giving up.
Kaveh, one of the council members, had
retreated to a country house outside the city. The sheer size of the Red Army
invasion, and how many they’d already lost, had really hit him hard. He was in
shock and betrayed by Zion. It was like… remember how Stalin worked with Hitler
to split up Poland, and then Hitler just turned around and invaded the Soviet
Union? It was that kind of betrayal.
But the other council members weren’t
giving up.
In the Lalezar district, the Lions of Lalezar, led by the fierce
Kinara, fortified the Grand Cinema, The ornate facade,
once adorned with neon lights and art
posters, was now
scarred by bullet holes and reinforced with sandbags
Inside the grand auditorium had been
transformed into a makeshift command center, with flickering holographic
displays showing troop positions and makeshift medical stations set up in the
lobby. They set traps, their resolve hardening as they prepared for the
inevitable assault.
But the Red Army was not without its advantages. Heavy artillery
and Sentinel exosuits loomed over the Lions, who braced themselves for the
onslaught. Kinara rallied her troops, her fierce spirit igniting hope despite
the odds stacked against them.
As the battle raged on, the Grand Bazaar became a deadly maze. The
Emerald League launched guerrilla attacks, using their knowledge of the
labyrinthine alleys to ambush the Red Army. Narrow spaces hindered the Red
Army’s Sentinels, making them vulnerable to Molotov cocktails and hit-and-run
tactics.
“Alright, let’s make them regret ever entering our territory,”
Kinara said, her eyes blazing with determination.
In the Borj-e Milad Museum, the Emerald League and the Red Army
raced to secure valuable artifacts, the clash turning bloody. Secret passageways
became strategic points for surprise attacks, as both sides fought fiercely for
control of the museum.
“Protect our heritage at all costs!” Nigel, a council member,
declared, rallying the Lions after witnessing the sacrifice of Phase 3. His words
reignited their sense of purpose, reminding them of their commitment to defend
the city.
Meanwhile, operatives scaled the Milad Tower, hoping to disable
communications or deploy EMP devices. Red Army Gladiators occupied the
observation deck, engaging in brutal close-quarters combat amid rising flames.
“Control the tower, control the information,”
Underneath it all, the Tabiat Bridge became a sniper’s paradise.
Both factions engaged in tense standoffs, targeting each other’s key officers.
The stakes were high; civilian spaces became battlegrounds, and the bridge’s
destruction symbolized the war’s impact on the city.
Juggernaut surveyed the museum, , his gaze
lingering on a shattered mosaic depicting a scene from ancient Persian
mythology. "This place... it's more than just paintings and statues. It's
a testament to their past, a past they cling to. They fill these places with
ideas, with memories of a time before us. They
whisper of empires and glories that challenge our rightful place. My ancestor,
Genghis Khan, almost carved an empire that stretched from the Pacific to the
Mediterranean.’
he rumbled. “Temples of stolen memories.
They fill them with trinkets and tales of their past glories, trying to
convince themselves they were ever anything more than thieves.” He kicked a
broken display case, the shards of glass scattering across the floor.
“But they—the Europeans, the colonizers—they stole what was
rightfully ours. They erased our legacy, wrote their own stories on our land.
We will not suffer the same fate. We will control the narrative. We will
control the future.."
He kicked a piece of broken marble, sending it skittering across the
debris. "Mission accomplished," he grunted.
A younger soldier beside him looked uneasy. "Sir, was all this really
necessary?"
The Juggernaut didn't answer directly. He gestured to a half-buried statue,
its face chipped and scarred. "They say a nation is defined by its
stories. By what they remember. What happens when you take those stories
away?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air. erasing the enemy's history and thus their claim to the land. "They
become malleable. They become ours."
Deep in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath Tehran, Nigel had
transformed from a mere symbol to a pivotal leader. On New Year’s Eve, Crips
burst into his quarters unannounced, a plate of food in hand.
“Happy New Year!” he exclaimed, a cheeky grin on his face.
“Hmmm… a fresh chicken fillet? That’s quite an unexpected treat,
Crips. But I won’t turn it down.” Nigel accepted the plate, savoring the crispy
batter and juicy meat.
“Delicious! Just what I needed after these exhausting days. Though I prefer mine with a side of Red Army tears.””
“Glad you like it!” Crips chuckled. “But seriously, you should
listen to the council. Don’t lead the raid personally. You’re a high-value
target now.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nigel replied, acknowledging the
concern. “I appreciate the warning. The Red Army is definitely gunning for me,
so I’ll take the necessary precautions.”
As the battle raged outside, the tension in the air was thick with
anticipation. The team prepared to strike back against the Red Army, knowing
that every action could be crucial in the fight for Tehran. With their spirits
bolstered by camaraderie and determination, they steeled themselves for the
challenges ahead, ready to defend their home against the encroaching tide of
destruction.
The stakes had never been higher, and as
they faced the chaos of war, one thing was clear: they would fight for their
city, their heritage, and each other. But even amidst the explosions and
gunfire, some battles were quieter, fought with words instead of weapons. One
day, Crips found himself winding his way up a rocky path to Kaveh’s secluded
retreat. The place was practically a fortress, guarded by some seriously
intense palace guards. Crips, armed with nothing but a folded piece of paper,
felt a little out of place. He’d managed to convince them he was on official
business—no easy feat considering Kaveh had gone full comms blackout—and they’d
reluctantly let him slip the letter under the heavy wooden door.
kaveh who sit around on his cottage see the letter
and read it.
"Father,
I've been thinking about us. About the past, about the future. I've always
wanted to know more about you, about our family's history. I've seen the
stories, the legends, and they're inspiring.
I know you've been busy, focused on the war effort. But I think there's
more to life than just fighting. There's a need for something else, something
beyond the battlefield.
I'd like to spend some time with you, just the two of us. Get to know you
on a personal level. Maybe we can share stories, learn from each other. I'm not
asking for much, just a chance to connect.
What do you say? Can we find some time to talk?
Your son, Nigel"
then after a while kaveh open the door. and hand
a letter to crips. then crips go back to bunker of tehran. and hand it to nigel
"Nigel,
My son, I'm glad you're reaching out. I've missed you.
I understand your desire to know more about me, but the truth is, my life
has been a complex one. I've made many mistakes, and I'm not proud of some of
the things I've done.
However, I want to assure you that I've always loved you. You're my son,
and I care deeply about your well-being.
I'm open to talking about the past, but I want to be honest with you. There
are some things that I'm not ready to share yet. But I promise you, when the
time is right, I'll tell you everything.
In the meantime, I'm happy to spend time with you. Let's go for a walk, or
have a meal together. We can talk about anything you want.
I'm proud of you, my son. You've grown into a remarkable man.
Your father, Kaveh"
meanwhile in Kaveh cottage
He wants to know me? He wants to see the
man beneath the mask? There is no man, only the mission. He is my son, my
blood, but blood means nothing without loyalty. He must prove himself. He must
be strong, unwavering, like steel. There is a ruthlessness in him, I see it. It
must be nurtured, honed. The past is a tool, to be used or discarded as needed.
Sentimentality is for the weak. I have built an empire on the bones of others.
He will either inherit it, or he will become another bone in its foundation. I
drink your milkshake, Nigel. I drink it up.
Chapter 109
Sniper Paradise
Sarah looked out over the city, now a field of rubble.
Only a few familiar landmarks, like the mosque, still stood. A mix of sadness
and anger clouded her face. She'd seen war's destruction before, but this was
different.
This wasn't some isolated fight in a wasteland; this
was the heart of a city, torn apart. The sounds of gunfire and explosions
echoed around her, strengthening her resolve. She made a promise to herself:
the Red Army would be pushed back, no matter what it took.
“Ready, girl?” Baker asked, breaking her focus.
“I was born ready,” Sarah shot back, her eyes blazing
with fierce determination.
They began surrounding Milad Tower, now infested with
enemy snipers. Sarah scanned the area, spotting one. With a steady breath, she
raised her rifle and pulled the trigger. The enemy sniper fell, and Baker
quickly issued new orders.
“New objective! Cover the ground forces as they breach
the lobby. Priority: any soldier with anti-tank weapons!”
Sarah nodded, her focus sharpening. She spotted an
enemy soldier with an anti-tank weapon and took him out with a precise shot.
“Good job! First phase complete. Let’s relocate to
give them more cover,” Baker said.
As they moved, disaster struck. One by one, the sniper
team began to fall, shot by an unknown sniper. Sarah’s determination morphed
into rage as she dropped low behind cover, scanning for the source of the
gunfire.
“Get down!” Baker shouted, drawing his periscope to
locate the enemy sniper. The team deployed decoys to draw attention.
“Come on, take the bait!” Sarah muttered, holding her
breath.
But the red sniper was too smart. “He’s not taking the
bait,” Baker grumbled.
“Great, just great,” Sarah gritted her teeth, feeling
powerless.
“I’ll call in an artillery strike,” Baker decided.
“We’ll flush him out.”
After the bombardment, the sniper team relocated,
searching for the red sniper. Sarah’s heart raced as she spotted a flash among
the rubble.
“Baker is down!” came the radio call.
Sarah’s vision narrowed. Baker
is down. The thought was a cold spike of pain, but her training
kicked in instantly. There was no time for anything else. Her hands, steady
despite the sudden surge of adrenaline, adjusted her scope.
The enemy sniper’s position was pinpointed; a glint of
reflected light off their scope lens, a fleeting shadow against the debris. It
was enough. She exhaled slowly, focusing on the crosshairs, and squeezed the
trigger. The recoil was a familiar jolt against her shoulder.
After a tense half-hour, the sniper team confirmed, “I
think we got him.”
Relief washed over Sarah as she realized they had
taken out the enemy sniper without casualties on their side. But then came the
grim news: Baker was dead. Shocked, she accepted the reality and took command,
determined to honor his sacrifice.
“Sniper team, we’re heading to the upper area of the
tower. We’ll use a decoy to lure out any remaining snipers,” she ordered, her
voice steady.
They prepared to take the glass elevator, using the
decoy to draw fire. As the elevator ascended, flashes erupted around them, and
the sniper team picked off as many targets as they could.
“Stay sharp!” Sarah commanded as they formed a
perimeter around the elevator, ready for anything.
In the chaos of war, Sarah felt
the weight of her choices, but she was resolute. They would reclaim the tower,
and she would ensure Baker’s sacrifice was not in vain.
From their vantage point, Sarah's team
became the allied forces' eyes in the sky. One by one, they eliminated key
enemy positions: a machine gun nest pinning down a squad of infantry, a rocket
launcher team preparing to fire on an armored vehicle, a medic attempting to
reach fallen comrades. With each precise shot, the allied advance gained
momentum, the enemy's resistance crumbling under the sniper team's relentless
pressure.
This allowed the allied forces to advance with less resistance,
and Sarah couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. The restaurant, museum, and
recreational areas were being cleared, meaning no more hidden snipers lurking
in the tower's interior.
With the tower secured, the remaining
snipers, aided by a squad of Emerald League soldiers equipped with powered
exoskeletons, hoisted a massive tri-color flag of the Emerald League—green,
white, and gold—to the top of the Milad Tower. The flag snapped in the wind, a bold
statement meant to boost morale. Sarah smiled as she watched the flag flutter
in the wind, knowing it would serve as a rallying point for their troops.
But just as they began to celebrate, a swarm of IED drones from
the Red Army aimed for the tower. “Take those drones out!” came the command.
Sarah's heart raced as she realized the danger. She quickly
ordered her sniper team to target the drones, swapping their rifles for machine
guns to increase their firepower. The drones were nimble, making them tough
targets, but the change in tactics allowed for rapid-fire output, giving them a
fighting chance.
While a few drones managed to strike the tower, causing minor
casualties, the smoke rising from the blasts raised concerns. Sarah scanned the
area, relieved to see that the intensity of the battle had decreased,
indicating that the allied forces were gaining the upper hand.
However, before sunset, another enemy artillery barrage hit the
tower, followed by a red mist that filled the air. Soldiers rushed to put on
their masks, but some were too slow and went berserk, turning their weapons on
their comrades. “Take those soldiers out!” the command barked.
Sarah recognized the red mist as a gas deployed by the Red Army,
and she approved of the order to neutralize the berserk soldiers. The aftermath
was chaotic, with the allied forces suffering casualties. Command announced
that half their men were lost and that a feast would be held the next day to
mourn the fallen.
On New Year’s night, soldiers distributed cake and chicken fillet,
even to the sniper team still taking cover. “We actually celebrate New Year in
March,” one soldier joked, lightening the mood amidst the devastation.
Sarah accepted her share with gratitude,
reflecting on the fallen comrades who wouldn’t be able to enjoy the
celebration. As command honored the sacrifices of the brave soldiers, Sarah
raised her glass in a silent toast to Baker, vowing to continue fighting for
justice and freedom in his memory.
Chapter 110 Blue
light
Nara was hiding in what was left of a fancy old bathhouse, a hammam,
near the center of old Tehran. Dust was everywhere, and the air smelled sweet
and rotten, with a bit of metal mixed in. Sunlight came through big holes in
the roof, making long shadows on the floor covered in broken bits. This place
used to be beautiful, but now it was just a shelter for people hurt in the war.
You could still hear gunfire outside.
She tightened her grip on her gun, and she started thinking about the academy.
That’s where she’d made friends and dreamed about the future. She met Sarah
there—someone really strong and determined. They’d trained together, wanting to
make the world a better place. But now, that future was as broken as the walls
around her.
“Nara?” a voice said.
Nara’s heart jumped. She turned and saw Sarah coming out of the shadows,
wearing sniper gear. She felt a mix of relief, happy memories, and a pang of
guilt.
“Sarah,” Nara breathed, managing
a weak smile. “You look… surprisingly well-adjusted for someone fighting a
chemical-induced zombie apocalypse.”
“Neither did I,” Sarah replied, concern etched on her
face. “You look… different.”
Nara hesitated, the weight of her past pressing down.
“I’ve changed. We all have.” She gestured to the destruction. “This war… it
changes you.”
“I know,” Sarah said, her voice steady. “But I’m still
fighting. I’m still trying to make a difference.” There was a fire in her eyes
that Nara admired but envied.
“Are you?” Nara challenged, sharper than intended.
“Are we really making a difference, or just prolonging the inevitable? Look at
this place.” She waved her hand at the crumbling walls. “We’re fighting for a
city that’s already lost.”
Sarah’s expression hardened, tension crackling between
them. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve lost friends, Nara. But I can’t give
up. Not now.”
Guilt washed over Nara. She had distanced herself from
the fight, while Sarah remained steadfast. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know you didn’t,” Sarah interrupted, her voice softening.
“But you need to understand we’re all fighting our own battles. You’ve chosen a
different path, and that’s okay. Just don’t forget who you are.”
Nara’s heart ached. She had buried her past, convinced
that detachment was survival. But facing Sarah, she felt her armor cracking.
“I’m scared, Sarah. Scared of what I’ve become. Every day feels like a
struggle.”
“Then let me help you,” Sarah said, stepping closer.
“We can fight together. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Nara searched Sarah’s face. “What if I’m not the same person you remember?
What if I’m lost?”
“Then we’ll find you,” Sarah said, her voice firm but gentle. “You’re still
Nara. The girl who wanted to be a hero? That’s still you, deep down.”
A tiny spark of hope flickered in Nara’s chest. Maybe she didn’t have to
face this alone. “I want to believe that,” she said, her voice trembling
slightly.
Sarah’s face softened into a smile. “Then let’s do it. One step at a time.
Together.”
A feeling of warmth washed over Nara. Standing there in the ruined bathhouse
with Sarah, it felt like reconnecting with a part of herself she’d thought was
gone. She knew it would be a hard road, but with Sarah there…
Sarah started telling Nara about her past in Mexico. "Zion invited our
leaders—we were fighting local bandits on his border—and called us 'Holy
Warriors.' Twenty years later, he invades and annexes us. Suddenly, we're
'terrorists.'"
"Classic," someone chuckled. "When they're on your side,
they're freedom fighters. When they're not, they're terrorists. Western media
101."
Just then, Patrick was suddenly escorted to the med tent. Everyone
followed, Nara and Sarah included.
Patrick tried to get up from the cot after a quick check. “I’m fine.” The
medic, unimpressed, placed an oxygen mask on him and continued the examination.
A star symbol was visible on Patrick’s chest.
“A star on the chest… that’s to remind you where you belong,” Sarah
commented. Her gaze drifted down to his mechanical legs, where the same star
was tattooed on his knees. “But when it’s on the knees… that’s a
different story.” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s about not kneeling before
anyone’s law.”
Patrick just smiled faintly.
Far to the southeast, under the cover of darkness, another operation was
starting. The rumble of tank engines echoed across the Kavir Desert. Hazel,
poking her head out of her tank’s turret, watched the distant flashes over
Tehran. It looked like the fighting there was still heavy.
The council had been pushing them hard to attack the enemy base at Varamin,
so Hazel and Serpent were getting ready to move. Hazel had a plan to flank them
from the southeast, a long trek across the desert. Her Buffalo tanks were in a
wedge formation—old but reliable—with Tetsuya’s faster Strider tanks behind
them, like the tip of an arrow.
As they drove across the desert night, Serpent saw flashes of light in the
distance and heard the faint rumble of explosions from Tehran. The Red Nation
was still attacking, bringing in the new year of 2406 with chaos.
By midnight, Serpent’s forces were close to Varamin. They passed a small
town where people were trying to celebrate with fireworks—a strange, quiet
contrast to what was about to happen. Hazel ordered a halt. “Let’s check
everything before we go in,” she said, looking towards the distant explosions.
Back inside her tank, she glanced at her crew. Yu was in the back. Anyone
could see Hazel was tense. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Even
after leading so many attacks, every mission made her hands shake.
“Serpent, move out… Fire at will,” she said, her voice steady but serious.
“No mercy.” She cut the radio and gave the order to attack.
Serpent’s tanks rolled into the town, targeting any house with lights on,
destroying them. They also took out parked military vehicles and other
important spots. In ten minutes, the town was quiet, like no one had ever lived
there.
“Keep the formation!” Hazel yelled, making sure everyone stayed in line
even with all the chaos. “We’re pushing hard to the main target!”
As they got closer to Varamin, Hazel saw an enemy Buffalo tank on the edge
of the base. “Hah! Another tank battle!” she shout. “Tetsuya, take your
Striders and go around it!”
With the Serpent attacking first, they filled the air
with fire and smoke. However, their initial assault had little effect; the
enemy tank returned fire with surprising resilience.
“Damn it! We’re forced into a fair fight! But with our
upgrades, we’re slightly more nimble. Aim for their tracks!” Hazel shouted,
taking aim at the enemy’s thermal imaging system, hoping to blind them in the
heat of battle.
As the enemy tank stopped firing, Hazel grinned.
“That’s it! They’re blinded. Order the sappers to take them out!”
The Strider tanks enveloped the Buffalo, while Hazel’s
crew laid down suppressing fire. The enemy tank was now trapped, facing an
intense situation as sappers dismounted from their motorized bikes, crawling
toward the enemy tank with explosives strapped to their backs.
When the detonation occurred, a pillar of flame
erupted from the Buffalo’s hatch—a terrifying spectacle amidst the chaos.
“Yu! Record this! Quick, bring your camera!” Hazel
commanded, urgency in her voice.
Yu nodded, quickly pulling out her camera and
capturing the devastation—the burning tanks, the chaos—an important record of
the brutal battle.
With a brief respite to check for any surviving enemy
forces, they pressed on toward Varamin, attacking any suspected hiding places
of enemy troops with ruthless efficiency.
“This raid is successful. Now head west. Let’s get out
of here. Loose formations! Watch for mines along the roads!” Hazel ordered,
their path clear but fraught with danger.
By 2:00 AM, they’d crossed the Qanbarabad Wetlands, a swampy area that
didn’t seem like a good place for the enemy to hide. Hazel had been smart to
take this tough route instead of the paved roads, which were probably covered
in mines.
But just when they thought they were in the clear, an enemy airstrike hit
one of the Buffalo tanks, messing up its tracks. “Destroy it! Keep moving!”
Hazel ordered, her voice calm.
After a long, hard drive, Serpent’s force reached Eslamshahr by morning,
with only a few minor injuries. They’d done what they were supposed to, but the
council immediately told them to head for central Tehran. The Red Army was
close to taking the whole city. Hazel’s face tightened.
“City fighting… worst case
scenario,” she muttered, a bad memory flashing through her mind—the Wanderer
Force’s attack on Hong Kong, and how the Flying Dragon clan was wiped out.
Ah, yes, urban warfare. The perfect blend of claustrophobia,
exploding debris, and the constant threat of being sniped from a MC Donald. Just what she’d
always dreamed of.
As they drove along the road, they kept their heads down, dodging falling
rocks and pieces of buildings. The constant explosions and bullets made bits of
brick and stone rain down around them.
They reached a bridge and spotted enemy tanks. Hazel’s heart pounded. They
were going to have to fight. “Some of you, protect the area under the bridge!
Don’t let them come at us from the sides!” she yelled, knowing how important it
was to hold that position.
The fighting got much worse as they entered central Tehran. Enemy bombs
were falling all around the air defense guns in the park, and Serpent’s tanks
had to fight hard to defend themselves.
“We’re sitting ducks here, but we’ll get blown to bits if we don’t find
cover! This is going to be tough…” Hazel said to herself, quickly trying to
think of a plan.
She ordered the tanks to hide among the ruins—broken walls, fallen trees, anything
they could use. “Only shoot at the big targets—don’t waste ammo on the regular
soldiers,” she told them, knowing how dangerous things were.
The explosions were incredibly loud, a constant reminder of how much danger
they were in. The crew held on tight, waiting for the battle to start.
Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away, a signal pierced the static of the
global comms network. In a hidden pre-Collapse bunker deep within Siberia, Alam
oversaw the activation of a recovered quantum computing core. His engineers,
using schematics salvaged from a captured Red Nation data-server in a former
Gulag, had finally managed to bypass the bunker’s security protocols. This
ancient technology, capable of near-instantaneous communication across vast
distances and bypassing even the most sophisticated encryption, was about to
change the course of the war. Alam used it to contact Jozen. Despite Jozen in
isolated Pacific Ocean in cloaked aircraft carrier, the quantum link bypassed
all conventional systems.
In the command center, Jozen sat calmly at his desk, watching the chaos
unfold on a big screen. He seemed completely unaffected by everything that was
happening.
“Hey, Blue Hair, why’s your pirate
attacking the Crescent Alliance’s supply lines?” Alam’s voice came through the
intercom, sounding worried.
Jozen leaned back in his chair, not bothered at all. “He’s just doing what
I told him. He’s supposed to mess up their supplies and cause as much trouble
as possible. He’s a good captain—smart and ruthless. I know he’ll get it done.”
Alam sighed, getting more frustrated. “Come on! We need to focus on beating
the Red Nation, not attacking random people.”
Jozen paused, thinking about what Alam had said. He looked at the chaotic
scenes on the screen. “If we destroy the Red Nation completely, it’ll cause
even more chaos. The big powers need to stay balanced. If they all start
destroying each other, things will get really bad.”
“But isn’t this chaos better than massive chaos?” Alam
countered, his voice rising slightly.
Jozen nodded, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.
“You have a point there. But I still believe that keeping the current situation
in check is preferable.”
“Then help the Emerald League! Destroy Red Nation’s
air dominance!” Alam urged, his tone almost pleading in mask of boldness.
Jozen considered the request, weighing the potential
consequences. “I will think about it. I need to consult my advisors and assess
the situation carefully before making a decision.”
“Yeah… heh,” Alam replied, a hint of mischief in his
voice.
Jozen chuckled, a lightness breaking through the
tension. “You’re quite the cheerful one, Alam. It’s refreshing amidst all this
political maneuvering.”
“Sure! If the world stage were filled with boring
people, no one would read this story,” Alam quipped, grinning.
“True enough,” Jozen laughed. “The world is full of
self-important folks. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t take themselves
too seriously.”
“So, what’s your endgame? You want to conquer the
world too?” Alam asked, a playful glint in his eye.
Jozen smiled at the question, amusement dancing across
his features. “My goal is to bring peace to this world. It may sound
idealistic, but I truly believe it’s possible. I envision a united world
working towards a shared purpose for humanity—where conflict is replaced by
cooperation.”
“Good! You’re a bit like Zion, but more handsome,”
Alam teased.
Jozen laughed heartily at the compliment. “That’s
quite kind of you. Zion and I share goals, but our methods differ. I prefer understanding
and compassion over domination.”
“Ha! Good. Now destroy their airfield. Time is
ticking,” Alam urged, the urgency returning to his voice.
Jozen nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. He
moved swiftly to his desk, making calls and issuing commands. The Blue Nation's
naval forces began to mobilize toward Red Nation’s airports and bases. Jozen's
gaze remained fixed on the screen as the forces approached their targets.
“You seem impulsive. How old are you?” Alam asked, his
curiosity piqued.
Jozen chuckled lightly. “I’m much older than I look.
My age isn’t important; I’ve lived through several lifetimes of experience—an
ancient warrior who’s seen many battles, including the Great War and The Great
Flood.”
“I see. I must meet your plastic surgeon!” Alam shot
back, laughter bubbling in his voice.
Jozen roared with laughter. “Good luck with that! I
doubt any surgeon can turn back time. My longevity is a testament to all the
struggles I’ve endured. Wisdom and experience trump any doctor’s skills.
Besides, who says I even want to be younger?”
“Do you still consider yourself human?” Alam pressed.
Jozen shrugged. “That depends on your definition of
‘human.’ I’m still organic, but I’ve experienced more than most. My existence
is an anomaly. I’ve lived for centuries, so my perception of reality is quite
different. Am I still human? I’m not sure.”
“Hm, I hope that after the war ends, I can meet you in
person again. I want to pinch your cheek—my punch wasn’t hard enough
yesterday!” Alam said,
Jozen laughed again. “If you really want to do that,
we can arrange it after the war. But I warn you, my cheek isn’t as soft as it
looks. I’m still a warrior.”
“Good! Me too… kind of. Farewell!” Alam replied, his
tone lightening.
“Farewell. Let’s meet again when the wars are over,”
Jozen said, smiling as he ended the call.
Suddenly, the night sky over Tehran was
ripped apart by streaks of cerulean light. High-altitude interceptors, their
sleek, delta-winged forms unlike anything the Emerald League had seen before,
descended from the stratosphere. They fired bursts of energy weapons,
vaporizing Red Army fighter jets in mid-air, leaving only trails of ionized
particles in their wake. A message crackled over the comms: “This is the Blue
Nation banger. We are here to enforce the peace.”
jozen then look at ruan mei hologram ai behind him “i
think we should develop the red mist cure.. you the one who make it.. so..
please, double times the effort”
ruan mei hologram turn into grin “im just your ai
slave now.. so there is nothing i can do except follow your order isnt?”
jozen nod “you better do it. or i remove your
sarcastic personality on your ai”
ruan mei laugh “oh. i know you like my personality..
anyway.. since im just collection memory of her. i only represent 80% of true
knowledge. so.. expect about backlash it later!”
Chapter 111 Red
Rose
After the blue jets attacked, the Red Army bombardment lessened
significantly. The city was quieter, though distant skirmishes could still be
heard. In the park area, things were relatively calm.
Later that night, Coalition reinforcements arrived, a welcome surprise for
Serpent’s crew. After the intense fighting, they finally had a chance to rest.
Hazel climbed onto the tank and picked up her guitar, strumming a relaxing
tune. Inside, the rest of the crew were trying to sleep or unwind. It was a
peaceful moment.
“Like Liu Bei in ancient days, sworn to fight for his land / With Guan Yu
and Zhang Fei strong, a righteous, rebel band / But hearts grow heavy with each
life lost, each city left in flames / A hero's duty burns so bright, yet leaves
behind deep stains...and blood.” Jreng.
Tetsuya, still awake, asked, "Who are those names you were singing
about? Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei?"
Hazel smiled. "They're from an ancient Chinese story. Liu Bei was a
righteous general who fought for his land and people, with his sworn brothers,
Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. They were considered warriors of virtue and honor,
symbols of justice for their time. Their stories might be forgotten by many,
but their deeds still inspire."
Tetsuya recognized the names. "Wait, those are characters from that
game, right?"
Hazel chuckled. "Yeah, they're popular in video games and manga. I
figured you might recognize them."
Patrick, due to his modified body, didn't really need to sleep and used
this time to patrol the area. He was with the scout team, patrolling the ruins
for enemy snipers or small groups, occasionally taking them out. He moved
constantly in the dark, his night vision picking out any enemy hiding among the
rubble.
At 04:00, while patrolling, Patrick heard the distinct sound of three colossal
artillery strikes. The explosions erupted, creating a huge fireball and a
shockwave that even Patrick felt from a distance. He rushed back to Hazel's
position, checking for damage and casualties.
Morning revealed the devastation. A crater marked where Hazel's tank had
been, shrapnel scarring the surroundings. The ground was scorched and
glassified. Patrick and his scouts surveyed the wreckage, finding several
lifeless bodies. A few survivors groaned in the dust-choked air.
Tetsuya was pulled from the wreckage, dazed but alive. A field hospital was
hastily set up nearby. Hazel was missing. Then, Gazz, the mascot dog, began
barking insistently at a pile of rubble. Yu, recognizing his urgency, joined
him, digging. They uncovered Hazel. She was unconscious, injured, and covered
in blood.
She stirred as they pulled her free, her eyes fluttering open. "I… I
think…" she managed, her voice weak. "I think this is it."
The soldiers around her were grim. They could see the extent of her
injuries. Medics rushed to her side, but the situation was dire; she was losing
blood rapidly.
Hazel looked at them, a faint, almost wry smile touching her lips.
"Well," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don't just
stand there. Someone should probably… read Three Kingdoms or
something."
Her gaze drifted towards the rising sun, her breathing shallow. The medics
worked frantically, but it was clear there was nothing more they could do. A
moment later, she was gone.
Weeks later, after the battle, Hazel and the other fallen soldiers were
laid to rest in a graveyard west of Tehran. The council held a memorial for the
high-ranking officers. The common soldiers and unknown combatants were buried
in a more modest section. Hazel's gravestone simply read: "Someone should
probably… read Three Kingdoms."
One morning, Patrick found Yu at the graveyard, sweeping the ground near
Hazel's grave, Gazz beside her. She’d been there for hours. Patrick approached
her. “We need a crew,” he said. “And a leader.”
Yu stopped sweeping, her expression blank, processing everything. Her
response was quiet but firm. “I know. We lost so many… Hazel…” She paused, then
continued, her voice gaining strength. “But we have to keep fighting. We can’t
let them win.”
She would lead the team. It would be difficult, but she was ready. From the
devastation of loss, life finds a way to continue, to heal, to connect. Well,
life also finds a way to get you patched up and back on the battlefield,
apparently. In the underground hospital beneath Tehran, the air smelled of disinfectant
and faint floral soap.
Tetsuya lay on a makeshift cot, his
bandaged arm throbbing. Across from him, Hana, a young medical student
volunteering at the front, adjusted his IV drip. Though clearly new to this,
her focused movements and gentle touch were reassuring."How are you
feeling, soldier?" Hana asked, her voice barely a whisper,
"Much better, thanks to your magic
touch, Miss... Nightingale," Tetsuya replied, a playful glint in his eyes
despite the grimace from his wound.
Hana blushed, a faint smile tugging at her
lips. "Just Hana, please. And it's not magic, just standard field
protocols. Though, we've had to improvise a lot with the limited
supplies," The fluid wasn’t a direct healer; it contained genetically
engineered microorganisms that acted as beacons for repair drones, guiding them
to damaged tissue.
"Basic or not, it feels pretty magical
coming from an angel like you," Tetsuya persisted, his voice turning
husky.
Hana chuckled, shaking her head. "You
soldiers and your charms. I'm afraid they won't work on me."
"A challenge, is it?" Tetsuya
raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Perhaps I haven't met the
right doctor yet."
"Perhaps," Hana countered, her
gaze softening as she met his. "But before you start prescribing love
potions, tell me about yourself, captain Tetsuya. What brings a charming man
like you to this war?"
Tetsuya sighed, the playful facade
momentarily fading. "Duty, mostly. And... purpose. We all have something
to fight for, don't we?"
His gaze drifted towards the the flower in
vase at corner of room. "We lost our leader yesterday," he mumbled,
his voice thick with emotion. "A good man, a mentor, a brother-in-arms. It
leaves a hole, you know?"
Hana placed a comforting hand on his good
arm. "I understand," she said softly. "Loss is a constant
companion in these times. But remember, he wouldn't want you to dwell on it.
He'd want you to keep fighting, to honor his memory."
Tetsuya looked at her, his eyes searching
hers. "You seem to know him well, this leader of mine."
"Not personally," Hana admitted.
"But the way you speak of him, the grief in your eyes... it speaks
volumes."
A warm silence settled between them, broken
only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. In that shared moment of
understanding, a connection sparked.
"So, Hana," Tetsuya finally said,
his voice regaining its usual lilt, "when this war is over, perhaps I can
show you a city not ravaged by conflict. A city where laughter and hope still
echo in the streets. Would you allow me to be your guide?"
Hana smiled, "Perhaps, Captain. But on
one condition: no more love potions."
Tetsuya chuckled, "As you wish, Doctor
Hana.”
The memory of his fallen leader remained a
constant within Tetsuya's heart, a reminder of the cause they fought for. Yet,
Hana offered him a different kind of strength, a glimpse of a future where
laughter and love could bloom again, not despite the ruins, but within them.
From the ruins of the city, from the shared grief and the quiet moments of
connection, new possibilities emerged.
News of the victory, and the losses,
traveled across the ravaged world, reaching even the distant Xian Palace. Alam
stepped back into Baihu’s waiting arms. in the heart of the Xian Palace. The air in the
courtyard, once reserved for imperial ceremonies, now hummed with the quiet
thrum of advanced climate control systems and the soft glow of holographic
lanterns that mimicked the warm light of traditional paper ones.
Baihu practically vibrated with excitement.
“Master, you’re back! Did you miss me? Tell me everything!”
“Yeah, I missed you,” Alam replied, trying to play it cool, but he
could feel the warmth creeping in. “But a lot has happened…”
“Yaaay! You missed me! Spill the tea, love! But first, how about a
little reward for your hard work?” Baihu teased, winking at him.
“Alright, but why do I always feel something warm when I’m near
you?” Alam joked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, my love~ It’s definitely your loving caresses filling my
heart with warmth! I’m the queen of the world, and this moment is pure gold!
What a lucky wife I am!” Baihu beamed, practically glowing.
“Hey, I’m just me, you know?” Alam chuckled, feeling a bit
bashful.
“Don’t be modest! You’re everything to me, my precious Master!”
she cooed, leaning in closer.
“Can we just cuddle for a bit?” Alam asked, a hint of
vulnerability in his voice.
“Ooohh~ Yes! Come here, Master! I love you!” Baihu exclaimed,
pulling him in for a warm embrace.
“Why am I becoming a dad? Hehe,” Alam said, half-laughing,
half-worried.
“Yes, my love! You’re going to be a daddy soon! I’m so excited!”
Baihu squealed, practically bouncing with joy.
“You really want to be a mom?” Alam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Absolutely! I was born to be a mom! Giving you our baby is every
woman’s dream!” Baihu replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“Master, will you wrap your arms around me and whisper sweet
nothings? I’m getting all excited!” she said, her voice dripping with
affection.
“Is that what women want? To be a pillow?” Alam joked, trying to
lighten the mood.
“Hey, I don’t know what other women want, but I want you to hold
me tight! If you call me a pillow, I’ll be the happiest pillow ever!” Baihu
giggled, her playful spirit shining through.
“Alright, you fit me perfectly,” Alam said, smiling. “But can I
talk about something? It might ruin this moment…”
“What is it, my love? If it ruins the moment, I won’t stop you!”
Baihu replied, her curiosity piqued.
“I’m just worried about stopping my adventures if I have a kid and
all that responsibility,” Alam confessed, his tone turning serious.
“Afraid? Why? I’ll be the best mom ever! I promise our little one
will be happy, no matter how far you are!” Baihu reassured him, her
determination shining through.
“Does that make me a bad father?” Alam asked, his brow furrowing.
“Master, there’s no way you could be a bad father! You’ll be the
best! I trust you completely!” Baihu said, her voice filled with warmth.
“I know you’re strong, but…” Alam started.
“Oh, so you think I can handle this? I’m lucky to have a wise and
caring Master like you! I’ll take good care of our child; it’s my duty!” Baihu
declared confidently.
“Well, I just hope they’re not like us,” Alam joked, chuckling.
“What? If our kid is like us, we’d be the happiest parents ever! Strong
and brave like you, kind and loving like me!” Baihu exclaimed, her excitement
infectious.
“Hey, what do you mean?” Alam poked her nose playfully.
“You’re an ex-rogue general, and I’m just a
warlord. I want to see something gentler in the future,” he said, sighing.
“We’ve changed, Master! We found love and built something
beautiful. Our child will reflect that strength and kindness!” Baihu replied,
her eyes shining with hope.
Alam looked at her, a genuine smile finally breaking through his worries.
“I never thought… i ending like this.”
Baihu squeezed his hand. “We are a force of nature, my love. The world
trembles before us. And now… we will create a legacy that will last for
generations.” She took his hand, her smile widening. “Now, come. My chambers
await. I have prepared a feast worthy of a returning hero.”
Chapter 112
Coastal take down
The war dragged on, and then, the news came. It hit Nara like a punch to
the gut: Nigel was dead, killed by Red Nation artillery. A wave of shock and
sadness washed over her. Even though things hadn’t worked out between them, she
still cared. Memories of him, both good and bad, flooded her mind, making her
heart race.
Just as she grappled
with her emotions, another message arrived. A coalition led by the Golden
Caravan from europe, after finishing their rebels “red nation proxy” they ready
to help emerald league.
was preparing to
launch an amphibious assault through the Caspian Sea, aiming to relieve the
siege of Tehran.
meanwhile in border
of emerald league with Great chaliphate (black nation) a mobile fortress. a big
squarish metal box with wheels. used to be a mobile base.
Inside, a group of men and women
dressed in dark robes, veils, and masks were gathered. Some of them had glowing
eyes, and you could see hints of mechanical enhancements beneath their cloaks.
These were the Hornets, the Caliphate’s elite special operations unit.
Hornet Leader,man
with extra mechanical arms on his back. broke the news to Nara. “This is
wonderful news! This coalition will destroy the Red Nation’s military base in
Persia, easing our mission on two fronts.”
Nara felt a spark of
excitement ignite within her. “So, you’ll send us a squad for the land
operation, and we’ll send ten squadrons of Hornet elite through the Caspian Sea
to land in Emerald?”
“Exactly,” Hornet
Leader affirmed, his voice resolute. “We’ll join forces in Persia and destroy
those Red scum together. Do you understand?”
Nara nodded, her
focus sharpening. “Understood. I’ll take care of the coastal guns. I won’t let
those weapons threaten our coalition’s assault.”
Laila, another
officer nearby, smiled slightly at Nara’s determination. “I’m assigning you one
of our best Hornet elites as your partner. His code number is 622, and his name
is Ahmed. He’s highly skilled.”
With a deep breath,
Nara felt her tension ease slightly. “Understood. I’ll work as a team with
Ahmed and ensure our success.”
“Good,” Laila said,
her voice grave but encouraging. “You are one of our best soldiers, and I
believe you can complete this mission. Just remember to take care of each other
and return to base safely.”
Nara saluted,
confidence swelling within her. “I won’t fail this mission. I’ll protect my
partner with my life.”
As Nara prepared to
depart, Wazir turned to Laila. “Why do you trust her so much?”
Laila met his gaze.
“I trust her because she’s a soldier I can count on, no matter how tough the
situation. What about you? Do you believe in her?”
“Yeah,” Wazir replied
thoughtfully. “She reminds me of her grandfather, Hejaz himself.”
Laila raised an
eyebrow, intrigued. “Her grandfather? Who is he?”
Wazir explained, “One
of Hejaz’s daughters ran away with a mercenary. Nara is their child—a product
of their forbidden love.”
Laila’s eyes widened
with realization. “So, this is the truth behind Nara’s origins. Her loyalty and
skill as a soldier come from that rebellious blood. I should have guessed
sooner.”
As they parted ways,
Nara met her partner, Ahmed, a tall figure clad in black balaclava. “I’ve been
waiting for you, Nara,” he said, his tone firm. “Let me be clear: I don’t care
about your background or that you’re a woman. I’ll treat you like any other
soldier.”
Surprised but
emboldened, Nara smiled. “I appreciate that. I’m not afraid of being treated as
an ordinary soldier.”
“Good,” 622 replied,
opening the armory door to reveal an array of weapons, from traditional
firearms to the most advanced tech.
Nara’s eyes widened
in awe. “Wow.”
“Pick your favorite,
but I advise you to grab something silent,” 622 said.
Nara considered her
options and selected a futuristic automatic gun and a sniper rifle, attaching a
silencer to the latter.
“I read your report,”
Ahmed said, his expression serious. “You have poor coordination. How about this
instead?” He presented her with a silenced submachine gun.
Nara felt a twinge of
disappointment at the critique but nodded. “Okay, I’ll try the SMG instead.”
“Good. Let’s see how
you handle it on the firing range,” he instructed.
Nara took the SMG and
headed to the range. After a few bursts, she hit the target, not perfectly but
enough to build her confidence. With each shot, she grew more comfortable with
the weapon, finding her rhythm.
“Not bad for an
ex-Zion bodyguard,” Ahmed remarked, a hint of approval in his voice.
Nara smiled, though a
hint of frustration lingered. “I’m not just an ex-Zion bodyguard. I’m a loyal
soldier for the coalition. If you doubt me, I’ll prove myself during tomorrow’s
mission.”
With determination
burning in her chest, Nara felt ready to face whatever challenges awaited them
on the battlefield. The stakes were high, but she was prepared to fight for her
allies and the cause they believed in.
February 2406: A Mission Ignited
As dawn broke on the day of the operation, the team boarded a
small plane, its engine humming ominously. They skillfully dodged searchlights
as turbulence rocked the cabin, sending jolts through Nara’s body.
“Is this plane supposed to shake this much?” she wondered aloud,
gripping her seat. she remember her time on pasific with bastard
brigade. but their plane is more stable.
“Welcome to military aviation!” Ahmed quipped, trying to lighten
the mood.
Nara’s stomach churned at the violent vibrations, and when she
heard a strange noise from the engine, her anxiety spiked. Just then, the light
turned green—a signal to jump.
622 gave her a thumbs-up before leaping into the abyss. Nara
returned the gesture, then took a deep breath, closing her eyes to calm her
racing heart. She recalled Hornet Leader’s advice from earlier and opened her
eyes,
The sensation of free-falling gripped her as she plummeted through
the sky, the wind whipping against her face. Panic tightened her chest, but she
fought to keep her focus. At last, she deployed her parachute and felt the
sudden jerk as it opened, bringing her safely to the ground.
With a thud, she landed and rolled to her feet, adrenaline still buzzing.
She quickly scanned her surroundings and spotted 622, who had already taken out
a pair of guards with clean, silent shots.
“Nice work!” she exclaimed, a smile breaking through her nerves as he
helped her detach her parachute. “Did they even see you coming?”
“They saw… the ground,” 622 deadpanned. “Let’s move.” He gestured forward.
They moved through the shadows, using the cover of the crumbling seawall and
the skeletal remains of abandoned fishing trawlers to avoid detection.
Finally, they reached their target: a massive coastal defense battery, its
reinforced concrete pillbox studded with heavy rail cannons and automated
targeting systems that swept the sea with searchlights. There were… a lot
of them.
“Wow, that’s a beast,” Nara murmured, awe evident in her voice. The sheer
size of the turret sent a chill down her spine.
622’s voice cut through her thoughts. “There are a lot of them. And
intel suggests they keep building new ones.” He narrowed his eyes. “Something’s
fishy.”
“We need to take the initiative. We can’t destroy that from the outside. We
have to go in.”
Nara nodded, her mind racing with plans. They needed to infiltrate the
pillbox and plant explosives inside. As they prepared, 622 quickly disabled a
nearby sensor with an EMP grenade, showcasing his efficiency. Nara couldn’t
help but admire his skill.
“Let’s breach that door,” she said, giving it a solid kick. The door swung
open with a loud creak… revealing the inside of the turret… which was
completely empty. And made of what looked suspiciously like fiberglass.
“Dammit,” Nara muttered, poking the barrel of the cannon. It wobbled. “It’s
a… plastic gun?”
622 sighed. “Of course some of them are decoys. Our intel… needs an
upgrade. We must find the real ones, Nara.”
They jogged along the line of batteries, checking each one. Finally, they
found a turret that looked… different. More solid. The barrel, viewed through
622's thermal goggles, showed a distinct heat signature.
“That one’s been used recently,” 622 confirmed.
They approached silently. This one was definitely real. The metal was cold
to the touch, but the lingering warmth from the barrel was palpable.
Inside, chaos erupted as soldiers spotted them. Gunfire erupted, and Nara’s
instincts kicked in. Together, they fought their way through, knowing they had
limited time before reinforcements arrived.
“Cover me! I’ll plant the explosives,” Nara shouted, and as she
dashed inside, she spotted a control room filled with monitors. A teenager,
clearly shocked at her sudden appearance, froze.
Nara seized the moment, drawing her silenced SMG. Before he could
alert anyone, she fired, the shot echoing softly in the room.
“Sorry, kid,” she muttered, moving deeper into the pillbox. She
soon found the giant cannon and the ammunition stockpile nearby. A small
control panel caught her eye, and she hurried over to investigate how it
operated.
After planting the explosives, she rushed back to 622, who was
holding the door against a wave of enemy soldiers.
“Good. Let’s move to the next objective,” he said, handing her a
detonator. “Do it when you’re ready.”
Nara felt a rush of excitement as she gripped the detonator,
knowing she held the fate of their mission in her hands. With a steady breath,
she pressed the button.
A massive fireball erupted, lighting up the night sky and sending
shockwaves through the ground. The explosion was followed by a cascade of
blasts from other teams as they took out their targets. Nara couldn’t help but
grin; the sight was awe-inspiring—a beautiful chaos that illuminated the
darkness.
“Good. Now we can rest for a moment because in the morning, we
join the attack,” 622 said, his tone surprisingly calm after the chaos.
Nara nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over her. As the
adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion set in. She realized she needed to
recharge for the challenges ahead.
“Let’s get ready,” she replied, her heart
full of determination. With the thrill of victory still fresh, Nara was ready
to face whatever came next.
Chapter 113
Other light in tunnel
The war raged, a brutal dance of attrition.
The Red Army pushed forward, but the Emerald League refused to break. Zion himself
moved between fronts, trying to bolster morale and exploit any tactical
advantage.. the emerald league
despite lost of half his 3/4 territory still stubornly resist the invasion and
refuse to capitulate.
In the not-so-distant future, a shadowy figure known
only as Wraith plotted his next move, His
plan was audacious, rooted in the twisted tactics of Japanese WWII strategists,
but with a modern, absurd twist.
“Let’s smuggle drugs into this land,” he declared to
an empty room, his voice echoing back like a ghostly affirmation. “We’ll keep
the populace blissfully ignorant and high, while we roll in like a band of
merry marauders! And the best part? We’ll label it forbidden fruit! Delicious
irony, wouldn’t you agree?” He chuckled to himself, picturing the citizens
stumbling about in a haze of euphoric stupidity.
But Wraith’s
whimsical vision took a dark turn when the infamous Red Mist is not longer
effective, coalition is more frequently using a gasmask, and the bright color
of red is too obvious to miss, Time to get creative.. he just dip the various
mischilinous on red mist liquid. the plan is to infect the animals. and do the
infection job for them
then wraith plane,.
From its belly, it released a shower of rice, strands of hair, and the
unmistakable stench of rotten meat. “A feast for the senses!” Wraith cackled as
he watched the chaos unfold below.
The city became a quarantine zone, not because of barricades or soldiers,
but because of something far stranger. A wave of manic energy swept through the
population, turning the streets into a bizarre, never-ending party. The city
was effectively neutralized; no sane army would risk entering.
In the Emerald League’s council chambers, the mood was tense. It was clear
this wasn’t just a random outbreak. Wraith’s strategy was becoming clear:
isolate Tehran by creating a ring of infected cities.
“It’s the fleas, the rats, and the birds,”
Councilman One exclaimed. “We must burn the entire city to the ground!”
“Burn our culture?”
Councilwoman Two gasped. “We can’t do that! What about the annual cheese
rolling festival?”
“Honestly, it’s like
the bubonic plague but with a lot more glitter and jazz hands,” Councilman
Three chimed in, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just close the borders and call it a
day!”
Meanwhile, back in
his lair, Wraith watched the council’s dysfunction with bemusement. “Advanced
warfare,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Nukes are child’s play! Why destroy
our future infrastucture? We can just remove the rats!”
As the war raged on,
fate took a turn for the absurd. Wraith’s lab, nestled in the rugged terrain of
Afghanistan, met an unexpected demise at the hands of some very disgruntled
locals. thanks to CAD team and the
wanderers effort.
“Those people
destroyed my factory! How rude!” Wraith exclaimed, throwing his hands up in
exaggerated disbelief at empty room
“Well then, let’s go old
school! Time to unleash the vintage bomb! Because why not blow things up in
style? It’s like a retro party, but with more shrapnel!” He grinned,
“Classic bomb it is! Because why not blow
things up in style?”
After losing the bio lab, Wraith moved his operations to Central Asia. He
was trying to stop the Coalition from pushing further, since this area was a
key link between North America and the parts of Asia they’d already taken.
Meanwhile, Zion was leading the charge against the Emerald League in North
Persia.
Duc, a tired Red Army soldier, crouched in a muddy trench at a place called
Iron Hill. It was a depressing spot, full of bunkers and wrecked old tanks.
Above him, his commander—a gaunt, almost ghostly figure—was ordering them to
build a new defensive position. They were using tank wrecks and… mummified
bodies. Apparently, the intense radiation had left a lot of them intact. It was
a crazy idea, but it actually worked as camouflage. Still, even the toughest
soldiers found it creepy. Duc thought it was a sick joke that their commander
was called Wraith.
The soldiers’ mood kept changing. When they were feeling good, they were
like a well-oiled machine, carefully placing mines in no man's land. But when
morale was low, things got… messy. They’d just toss explosives around like kids
scattering toys, wanting to get the job done and get back to the safety of the
trench.
Duc, as their commander, didn’t argue much. He knew most of them were just
kids who’d been pulled off the streets and thrown into the war. He
understood—he’d been a street kid himself before ending up in the gladiator
arena.
He looked out across no man’s land. It was quiet now, a mix of mud, dead
bodies, and twisted metal. Even with the gruesome view, it was almost peaceful
compared to when the enemy was attacking. He chewed on his rations, trying not
to think about the scenery.
Suddenly, the ground
shook violently. Duc, seated on the edge of the trench, felt the earth lift him
from his seat, while those standing collapsed like marionettes with their
strings cut. A violent blow slammed into his stomach and head, and
then—darkness. The door of their makeshift bunker resonated like a giant gong,
signaling doom, as a cloud of dust and acrid smoke enveloped them, searing
their throats and nostrils.
Silence fell, heavy
and oppressive. No one dared to breathe a word as they listened to the ominous
rumble of earth raining down on their shelter. After what felt like an eternity,
leaving an eerie stillness in its wake.
The Iron Hill had
taken a beating; by the end of the war, it would have shrunk by thirty meters.
Duc surveyed the grim landscape: lines of trenches and mass graves stretched
before him.
From his squads of
nine, only four remained. The sight was overwhelming, while new from craters bombardment
large enough to swallow a train marred the ground.
After hours of
hellish waiting, Duc took a deep breath and began to reorganize his troops, He
glanced back at the steel mansion they were supposed to defend, a behemoth of
rust and despair. A thought nagged at him—why not just retreat?
"What's the point?" he muttered, looking around at the ruined
fortress. "We're not heroes. We're just holding the line until someone
else shows up." He gave a dark chuckle. It all felt pretty pointless.
D-Day: February 2406
Dawn broke over the Caspian Sea. The coalition forces were ready to attack,
a huge landing to try and save Tehran. The air was thick with excitement.
Planes, paratroopers, and ships filled the horizon, heading towards the shore.
The plan was bold: land in several places, cut off the Red Nation's supplies,
and create a strong base.
As soon as it got light, the fighting started. The landing forces met heavy
resistance from the Red Nation, bullets flying everywhere. Nara, in the thick
of it, felt a rush of adrenaline as she charged forward. The beach became a
chaotic mess of sand and fighting.
By evening, the coalition had made progress, taking some ground and pushing
inland despite the Red Nation's constant attacks. "This is going to take a
while," Nara muttered, wiping sweat and dirt from her face.
As they moved closer to Tehran, they had to fight in the city. Every step
was a struggle. The city of Babol was just ahead, but it felt miles away.
"We'll get there," Nara told herself, pushing on with her comrades.
"We have to."
The battle for Babol got even more intense. But day by day, the coalition
started to win. They heard reports that the Red Nation was running low on
supplies and getting weaker. There were even talks of surrender. The coalition
tightened its hold on the city. Nara felt a spark of hope. Could they actually
win?
Then, in the middle of all the chaos, came some unexpected news: Nigel was
alive. He was trapped near Gol Pasha, trying to break through the Red Army’s
lines around Tehran. Hearing this made Nara’s heart race. She couldn’t believe
it.
“622,” Nara said, her voice steady
despite the mix of feelings inside. “What’s the plan?”
“New mission,” he replied. “We’re escorting a VIP. A few Hornets are
leading the rescue.”
Nara nodded, a spark of excitement rising in her. “We’re getting him out?”
“That’s it. Quietly. This is important. It could change everything,” 622
said, his voice serious.
“Understood,” Nara said, feeling determined. This wasn't just another job;
it was personal. She had to make sure Nigel was safe.
As they got ready, Nara thought about seeing him again, the relief on his
face. We’re going to get him back, she told herself.
Early March 2406, Tehran Underground Bunker
Deep beneath Tehran, in the reinforced concrete bunker that served as their
makeshift command center, the news was grim. The Red Nation propaganda machines
were working overtime, broadcasting across all remaining channels: “Tehran has
fallen. The council is in custody.” Jammers blanketed the city, cutting off
most communication with the outside world. Moving through the ruined streets
was a death sentence, thanks to constant artillery fire and lingering pockets
of chemical agents—likely a mix of the now-ineffective Red Mist variants and
newer, more potent compounds.
The only way to send messages out
was through cloaked runners they to slip past sensors and patrols under the
cover of darkness. These messages, however, were slow and unreliable.
The council meeting was tense. Supplies were running dangerously low, and
contact with their scattered forces was sporadic. News of the coalition’s
landing at least offered a glimmer of hope, but they were spread too thin to
capitalize on it.
Nigel cleared his throat, the weight of the situation heavy on him. “We
need to establish a direct link with the coalition. I propose a small,
high-speed team breaks through to Madaran.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Nigel, despite the recent
losses, was their best chance. He had the skills, the experience, and the sheer
audacity to attempt such a risky maneuver.
On the coalition side, the Hornets, including Nara, received a priority
transmission. Using a secure quantum entanglement communicator—a pre-Collapse
relic capable of instantaneous, untappable communication—they received precise
intel on Nigel’s location: a small village near Gol Pasha.
Nara felt a surge of excitement. She might see him within hours. She
compulsively checked her gear—her silenced ballistic pistol, her thermal vision
goggles, and the micro-drone she carried for reconnaissance—making sure
everything was in perfect working order.
The team held a quick briefing, finalized their equipment checks, and
boarded a sleek, tiltrotor aircraft. The aircraft took off smoothly, then
transitioned to forward flight, quickly covering the distance to their drop
zone. They landed a few kilometers from the village in a secluded valley, then
switched to all-terrain hover bikes—silent and fast, ideal for navigating the
rough terrain. The landscape was surprisingly beautiful, a stark contrast to
the war-torn cities; colorful wildflowers lined the paths that wound through
rolling hills and valleys.
As they approached the village, they deployed several micro-drones to scout
ahead, establishing observation points and scanning for Red Nation activity. As
dusk began to settle, they moved in, splitting into smaller teams for better
stealth. Nara led her team towards the villa indicated by the intel. It was now
6 PM, and the adrenaline was starting to flow. She double-checked her equipment
one last time, making sure everything was ready for what lay ahead.
By 10 PM, they still hadn’t found Nigel. The team regrouped, trying to
figure out what to do next. Nara felt a wave of anxiety. Had the intel been
wrong? Was this the wrong place? She looked at her team, hoping they had some
answers.
Chapter 114
Dilemma
The sun had barely set when Nara’s team gathered in the shadows of
a derelict building, strategizing for their next move. The air was thick with
tension as they decided to reach out to potential informants within the nearby
village. Just then, a ranger and a tourist guide from Lar National Park
signaled them with Morse code using a flashlight from the rooftop of a hotel.
“Must be our informant,” 622 said, his voice low and firm. “Move
out.”
The team cautiously entered the hotel and made their way to the
top, where the ranger awaited them on the balcony.
“I can help you find Nigel,” the ranger said, urgency lacing his
voice. “But you need to assist us first. Red Nation soldiers have taken most of
the villagers hostage, including my wife, at the town center. You must free
them!”
622’s brows knitted together, frustration evident. “We don’t have
time for that. Just tell me where Nigel is, and the coalition forces will
liberate this village.”
“You don’t understand!” the ranger insisted, desperation creeping
in. “The Red Army wants to slow down the coalition by taking hostages. You have
to help us!”
Nara noticed 622’s grip tighten on his dagger, anger flaring in his
eyes. She realized he was torn; while he wanted to rescue Nigel, the ranger
made a valid point.
“Alright,” he relented, his tone shifting. “Where and how many?”
The ranger sighed in relief. “Just a few blocks from here. There
are about 22 of them, armed with rifles, and one jeep parked at the town
center.”
“Great. We’re just five, including one bait,” 622 said, glancing
at Nara. “Ranger, you’ll be the bait. The rest of us will flank the building.”
The ranger nodded, quickly arming himself. Nara felt a rush of
adrenaline as they devised a plan. The stakes were high, but the urgency of
their mission pushed aside any doubt.
Once outside, they took positions, with the ranger drawing
attention to himself near the town center. The rest of the team concealed
themselves, ready to block any escape routes.
“On my mark, we breach the door,” 622 instructed, and together,
they began their ascent.
After taking down a few guards, they breached the rooftop door and
descended the staircase. The sounds of chaos filled the air as they approached
the hall where the hostages were kept.
“Bring the lights out,” 622 commanded, and the team outside cut
the power, plunging the building into darkness. “Kill anyone carrying a gun.”
A flurry of gunfire erupted as they cleared the room, adrenaline
pumping through Nara’s veins. She felt a surge of relief when the last armed
soldier fell, but the tension remained thick in the air.
Suddenly, a female voice broke through the chaos. “They took my
sister! She’s in the bathroom! You have to help her!”
Nara’s heart sank at the urgency in the woman’s voice. “622, there
are still hostages in the bathroom!” she exclaimed, glancing at him.
“Alright, let’s do this,” he replied, drawing a flashbang. Nara’s
stomach churned at the risky move, but she trusted 622’s judgment.
Without hesitation, 622 kicked the bathroom door open and tossed
in the flashbang, which detonated with a blinding flash and deafening bang.
“Go!” he shouted as he rushed in, but a soldier was waiting,
wrapping his arms around 622 in a chokehold. Nara’s instincts kicked in; she
aimed her weapon at the soldier and fired before he could tighten his grip.
The soldier dropped, and the blood splattered across 622’s
uniform. A girl emerged from the bathtub, wide-eyed and terrified. Nara rushed
to her, attempting to offer comfort.
“Don’t be afraid! We’re here to rescue you!” Nara said, her voice
soothing.
622, wiping blood from his face, added, “You’re safe now.”
The girl, still shaken, ignored Nara’s outstretched arms and
instead hugged 622 tightly. He was taken aback but wrapped his arms around her,
offering silent comfort. He didn’t understand why she chose him, but he didn’t
mind.
At 04:00, the situation was under control. The ranger informed the
team about Nigel’s location, a remote villa nearby.
622 waved goodbye to the grateful girl, who tried to hug him
again, but he pulled away, donning his balaclava. “We’ve got to move,” he said.
By 06:00, the team adjusted their plans for the assault on the
villa, using diversionary tactics to create an opportunity to advance.
When they launched the assault at 08:00, the air was thick with
tension. They took down Red Nation guards strategically, minimizing civilian
casualties as they pressed forward.
After an intense firefight, they found Nigel’s hiding place but
discovered he was injured and unconscious.
“It looks like they were in a last stand. If we had gone sooner,
we might have saved everyone,” 622 said, frustration evident. “At least the VIP
is still breathing.”
By 12:00, they secured the villa and provided medical aid to
Nigel, preparing for extraction. Red Nation reinforcements were closing in,
forcing them to retreat quickly.
At 14:00, they fought their way back to the extraction point,
covering each other and protecting Nigel.
When the helicopter arrived at 16:00, they embarked under heavy
fire, taking off just as the Red Nation forces drew near.
Back at base, Nara looked at 622, who sat silently, staring at his
untouched meal. She took a seat across from him, the weight of the mission
hanging in the air.
“What if we had forced the ranger to locate Nigel sooner?” 622
mused, his eyes distant. “We might have saved more lives.”
Nara considered this, a frown creasing her forehead. “If we had,
we could have avoided all of this chaos. It’s a good thought, but we did what
we could.”
In the days that followed, the coalition forces marched through
Mandaran, moving to link up with the Emerald League in Tehran. However, 622’s
absence was palpable, and unease settled over Nara’s team.
Then, out of nowhere, a dirt motorcycle zipped past their Humvee,
and the team’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was 622, back in action. Relief
washed over them as they waved at him, their spirits lifting.
After a few kilometers, the convoy stopped in a quiet area, a
perfect spot for a debrief. 622 seemed troubled, his brow furrowed as he spoke.
“I pray to Allah that we have no
regrets. We saved lives yesterday, which is a good deed. But it will haunt us
if we let the villagers be massacred.”
Nara nodded, understanding the weight of
his words. They had fought bravely, but the shadows of war loomed large, reminding
them of the lives still at stake.
meanwhile in tehran. At serpent division.
During the planning stages of the next course of action, Major Yu, Captain
Patrick, and Adam were discussing the plans for the next move. The crew of
tanker, who are now without the guidance from the leader, are watching a puppet
show near the refugee camp with a group of children. It is a small event to
entertain the children but this small group of soldiers watching it seems to
enjoy it as well..
The puppet show is telling the story of the
brave and intelligent young woman "Malak", who was being tested by a
mischievous jinn. As the story goes on, the girl outsmarts the jinn in various
tasks and the jinn, desperate to win her affection, played a cruel trick on
her.
The Jinn, frustrated by Malak's constant
rejections, decides to play a cruel trick. He transforms himself into an old
peddler, carrying a basket overflowing with gold coins. He approaches Malak,
pretending to be lost and seeking help. He offers her a single gold coin as a
reward for guiding him home. Malak, known for her kindness, agrees to help.
As they walk, the Jinn, still disguised,
keeps dropping more and more gold coins, pretending clumsiness. Malak, despite
the temptation, doesn't pick up any of the coins. Finally, reaching the Jinn's
supposed home, the Jinn reveals himself, expecting Malak to be dazzled by the
scattered wealth.
But Malak, with a mischievous glint in her
eyes, points out that the Jinn dropped exactly 100 coins, the same number as
the steps they took to reach his house. She accuses him of testing her honesty,
not needing help at all. Faced with her sharp deduction and unwavering
integrity, the Jinn is forced to concede defeat, his trick backfiring
spectacularly.”
The soldiers, who were watching the puppet
show, seem to be unsure about the true meaning of the story. One of the
soldiers asked, "What meaning of this story?" in a puzzled tone, as
if the moral of the story is still unclear to them. The puppet is continuing to
perform its act in front of the children and the soldiers, but the soldiers
seem to have difficulty understanding the true meaning of the story. However,
their enjoyment of the puppet show still remains even despite the confusion of
the story being unclear to them.
Patrick, who was wandering on a mountain at
the north of Tehran when he was not joining the raid, happened to come across a
village where he found a vet treating a wild animal. This was an unexpected
sighting as the vet was not only treating the wild animal but also providing
much needed care to it,
Patrick, curious about the current
situation of the vet and his work, asked, "Who pays you while doing
this?" The vet who is an old man replied, "No one." Patrick was
surprised by this answer, as this meant that the vet is doing this purely out
of his kindness and good will, without being paid or funded by anyone else.
Patrick, still unsure about the vet
financial situation, asked, "where did you get those med at first place
then?" The vet, who is an old man, replied, "Before the war, I used
to have a pet shop at the south of Tehran. After the bombardment, all is gone,
so here I am. I am surviving by using my medicine spare and skill to treat
those poor creatures that got caught between the crossfire of the war."
Patrick, being curious about the vet's
situation and why he is not just waiting until after the war so that he could
use his spare medicine and skill to make business again, asked the question,
"why not wait until after the war is over and then use your spare medicine
for making business again later?" The vet, who is an old man, just laughed
at the Patrick's question and went back to treating a small bird with broken
wings. The vet, though being amused by Patrick's question, remained focus on
his work and dedicated to the treatment and healing of the wounded animals.
Chapter 115 Search for Old World
As the war approached its final
phase, a sense of inevitability hung in the air. The Blue Nation found itself
at the center of an unexpected alliance between the True Horde and the Purple
Nation, a coalition that set its sights on a bold mission: a commando unit was
dispatched to strike Toronto, one of the capital cities of the Free Nation.
Navigating through
the remnants of what was once Washington, D.C.—now transformed into a seashore
due to rising sea levels—Jozen's submarine moved with precision, evading
detection by the Red Nation. The vessel glided silently through the submerged
city, passing the George Washington statue, a haunting relic now shrouded
beneath the waves.
At last, they arrived at their destination:
Toronto, where the Mammoth Base awaited, a notorious black site that held
secrets crucial to the unfolding conflict. The recent raid on a Wraith base in
Afghanistan hinted at a possible cure for the Red Mist.
then
their submarine is expertly park on one once warehouse in underwater. soon the
diver get out from the submarine. commandos then arrive are dock area at night.
the
free nation are in martial law, they are still recovering from the revolution.
the street is empty. the drone patroling the street. with jammer and cover of
night commados the bypassing the guard drone.
They reached the heavily guarded building.
The attack began. Explosions they’d planted earlier rocked the bridges
connecting Toronto to the mainland. When Free Nation reinforcements scrambled
to aid Mammoth Base, the commandos detonated the charges, sending trucks and
tanks tumbling into the icy water.
“quick!
we must hijack their sam! the free world aircraft will arrive soon” one
commando instruct while they fight room to room in office.
bora
then plant the breacher on the door “ready!” then followed by explosion by
breacher. the door is turn into a smoke. the commandos with the accurate shot
kill anyone on the control room. li who among them show the sick kungfu move
amid the chaos. by taking down one guard.
Inside the control room, monitors displayed a global map, showing incoming
aircraft. One commando swiftly connected a cable to a terminal, beginning the
hack of the SAM system. A progress bar appeared on the screen, slowly filling.
“Come on, baby…” he muttered. The others kept watch, weapons trained on the
door. After a tense few moments, the hack completed. The SAM sites across the
region sprang to life, targeting the incoming aircraft. The blips on the
monitor vanished one by one.
A small cheer went up. “Yeah!” Li and Bora exchanged a quick high five.
one
commandos lower his mask and speak “we not done yet. lets go” bora and li then
turn into serious again. then the commandos go to the underground area.
They entered a
round hall surrounded by pillars, with a symbol of two tusks etched into the center floor
in
there they greet by the magog soldiers. a mutantned super soldier. magog
himself positioned him in center with armed with gattling gun.
the
commandos is pinned down, the pillar and wall start to crumbling from the
bullets.
“damn..
we cant bypassing them. this is the only way to go to lab!” li then draw his
last flashbang granade while taking cover under relentless fire.
“no not
yet.. “ bora gesture her hand “wait when he reload his big ass gun” li then
nod.
the
commandos is one by one is start take a hit by the relentless fire. the magog
gatling gun start piercing the wall. give commandos little protection on the
room. until the magog gun turn into a red. by overheating. then its jam. then
li loop his last flashbang,
the a
loud sound can be heared. then all commandos start rising from their cover. and
charge. but the supersoldier somewhat not effected by the flashbang. they start
open fire too. the fight turn into a chaotic brutal gun fight in the room,
magog
then quickly draw his pistol after his gun overheat. then he meet by li who
charge him. then they to fight in hand to hand combat, magog and li mag turn
into empty.
Magog, despite his massive size, moved with an incredible speed
that caught everyone off guard. He was a hulking beast of a soldier, but he
danced around the chaos like a predator, his movements fluid and precise. Li,
on the other hand, was smaller and more agile, a martial artist trained to take
down opponents with finesse. But as he faced off against Magog, he felt the
pressure mounting, the weight of the situation closing in on him.
Bora
crouched behind a pillar, her heart racing as she watched the two combatants
clash. She gripped her gun tightly, her finger itching to pull the trigger. But
the intensity of the fight made it hard for her to aim. Every time she thought
she had a clear shot, Magog would move, his speed making him a difficult
target. She hesitated, torn between the need to help and the fear of hitting
Li.
Bora, taking cover behind a shattered pillar, tried to find an opening. The
fight was too close, too chaotic. Then, a stray shot from one of her own team
hit Li. He staggered, falling to the ground. “Li!” Bora cried out. Magog roared
in triumph.
The commandos, fueled by rage and desperation, unleashed a concentrated
barrage of fire on Magog. The super-soldier finally collapsed, his body
slumping onto his overheated Gatling gun. The room fell silent.
The remaining commandos, grim-faced, moved towards a single elevator. Bora
lingered for a moment, a pang of guilt hitting her. If I’d shot sooner…
She shook her head and followed the others.
meanwhile
bora. bit self blame. she think if she can shot magog more early. li must be
still alive at this moment. The
thought weighed heavily on her heart as they descended into the underground
area.
As they entered the
pristine lab, the atmosphere shifted. They passed transparent glass rooms, each
one housing grotesque humanoid bodies lying unconscious on beds. Some had skin
that resembled wood, while others glowed with strange gems embedded in their
flesh
“they
grow a fucking gem from the human” one commandos eyes widened while his hand
lean on the transparant wall.
bora
then notice if each room is not maintained by human. but by a machine. a giant
robotic arms is take care each creature in the room. until the commandos reach
the center of lab. which a terminal full with keyboard and monitor. used to
monitor each creature experiment
one
commando then browse the lab terminal. then a ruan mei face as ai on screen she
guide commando team to explore the document and research like a tour leader,
when its in loading screen. a white nation symbol can be seen. the commandos
shared a glance. noticing if the the tech is diffentely from originally the
white nation.
then
in there they see a Eva project. a project to observe the 4,8 billion earth
evolution. in monitor they see a various amouba creature. to a jelly fish. musroom.
to a even dinosaur dragon.
the
sight was eye opening even for battle harden commandos in room.
“they
trying to force evolution human kind... “ one of commando look at monitor
bora
narrow her eyes. “not just that. “she then browse files on the terminal
“showing the fungi species who on the list. among them there is a the same
fungi species who cause outbreak at ww3”
“i
will damned..” bora said, seeing the revelation. the commandos just stood
there. noticing the world end in past just because this group of scientist who
centuries later being overseer by the ai. The monitor
continued to display the evolutionary timeline of the Eva project,
The commandos had witnessed the birth of
life, As they
traced the evolution of these creatures, a chilling realization dawned upon
them: humanity itself was merely another experiment, another pawn in a cosmic
game. The war, once a battle between nations, now seemed a petty squabble
compared to the existential threat, a
creature is in begining of time is struggle to survive. eating each other to
just see the other day. a earth rotation.
and to see a other year.
a earth circling the sun. a giant hot ball stuff. 4.8 billon year later. god
created human kind. various war broke between human. just mimicking the countless
creatures before them. but unlike the animal who fight for food. human fight
not just for food. but for idea.. and other abstract things
The commandos returned to the submarine,
their minds heavy with the weight of the truth. They had succeeded in their
mission, finding the cure for the Red Mist, but the knowledge they had gained
would forever haunt them.
black site. sometimes the
realities is scarier than fiction, The search for
answers, the struggle against overwhelming odds, these were battles fought on
many fronts, from the depths of the ocean to the arid deserts of Central Asia.
Chapter 116
Battle of Ashgabat
As April dawned in 2406, the coalition forces, bolstered by the
intel gathered from the Mammoth Base, successfully linked up with the Emerald
League, preparing for a counterattack against the Red Army.
and the coalition now start find
a cure for red mist problem. and reduce the damage, its not from fancy chemical
or high tech. but from soil,
soil is teeming with
million of different micro organisms that produce lots of potentially
therapeutic compounds, including new antibiotic
so we dont need to like
kill every animal because we fear their saliva. we just need wash our body and
rub it with a dirt, with that Gazz is save from purge. after
the council found the solution.
In the arid expanses of the
Dasht-e Kavir desert, Nara's team was tasked with intercepting retreating Red
Army forces rumored to be carrying valuable loot through the small village of
Bar Andaz-e Sar-e Namak.
“Captain Tetsuya
reporting for duty, ma’am,” Tetsuya saluted, despite his leg still bandaged.
Major Yu blinked,
momentarily speechless. She was taken aback by the salute, feeling a mix of
pride and awkwardness. “I’m glad to see you’re able to join us,” she replied,
smiling despite herself.
With the team
gathered, they set off towards their objective, trudging through the searing
heat of midday. The sun beat down mercilessly, and the sound of artillery and
airstrikes echoed in the distance.
“Nothing like a
stroll in the desert to warm the soul,” Patrick quipped, wiping sweat from his
brow.
“Just keep your eyes
peeled,” Yu reminded him, her tone serious. “We need to be ready for anything.”
After several tense
hours, they spotted the enemy convoy in the distance, creeping closer with
every cautious step. The team held their breath, knowing that one misstep could
reveal their presence.
As they approached,
the Red Army soldiers began to notice them, gunfire erupting as some vehicles
attempted to escape. “Stay calm!” Yu commanded, her voice steady. “We need to
cut off their retreat!”
Under her leadership,
the serpent team swiftly engaged, utilizing shrapnel and explosives to disable
the enemy vehicles. Nara’s heart raced as adrenaline surged through her. They
were winning—the enemy was faltering, and soon the soldiers began to surrender,
hands raised in defeat.
“Take them alive!”
Major Yu ordered, cutting through the cheers of her men. “We need information.”
Captain Adam, one of
the more hot-headed members of the team, grumbled, “But ma’am, after everything
they’ve done to us, they don’t deserve to live.”
Yu remained stoic,
still focused on the mission. “We need to know where their reinforcements are
coming from. This isn’t about revenge; it’s about strategy.”
After a quick
interrogation, the convoy driver revealed that they were merely conscript
soldiers from Central Asia, forced into service. Nara felt a pang of sympathy.
“They’re just kids, like us,” she murmured, realizing the complexity of the war.
As the coalition
forces prepared to push toward Ashgabat, they launched a large-scale offensive,
caught off guard by the Red Army’s weak defenses. The operation began at 04:00
with artillery bombardments, followed by ground forces storming the city at dawn.
The fighting was
fierce. By 12:00, the coalition struggled against the elite “Free
Revolutionary” division, suffering heavy losses.
“Keep pushing!” Nara
shouted, her voice barely audible over the chaos surrounding them. “they not
free revolutionary. they are the ODF!. oil defender force!”
At 02:00 on the
second day, as the coalition encircled the Citadel, 622 flashed a question at
Nara amidst the din of gunfire. “Are any of your friends from the arena still
alive?”
Startled by the
question, Nara met his calm gaze, feeling the weight of his inquiry. “Most of
them are still my friends,” she replied, her heart racing. “We stay in touch.
Why do you ask?”
“What’s it like
fighting your own friends?” 622 pressed, his tone serious.
Nara hesitated, the
intensity of the moment crashing over her. “Fighting friends is… complicated,”
she admitted. “It’s hard to see them on the other side. That’s why I usually go
solo. Companionship brings attachment, worry, and feelings I’d rather avoid.”
622 nodded,
understanding her unspoken fears. “Just remember, in war, it’s not always black
and white. Sometimes you have to fight for what’s right.”
As the battle raged
on, Nara felt her resolve strengthen. They were in this together, and despite
the chaos, they would fight for each other and for the future they all believed
in.
By early April, the coalition
forces had successfully linked up with the Emerald League, setting the stage
for a coordinated counterattack against the Red Army and their “Free
Revolutionary”
the alam mud launcer, and white
nation camuflage tech is prove to effective to repel red army tanks. they now
are had chance
The sun beat down mercilessly as Nara and her
team prepared to intercept retreating Red Army forces rumored to be
transporting valuable loot through the small village of Bar Andaz-e Sar-e
Namak.
News of the coalition
encircling Ashgabat spread like wildfire, drawing global attention. The Red
Army, feeling the pressure, unleashed their “Magog” supersoldiers—terrifying
figures that turned the tide of battle.
“Do your friends
include them too, Nara?” 622 asked, his voice steady amid the chaos.
Nara blinked, her
mind racing. “No, they’re definitely not my friends. They’re the enemy,” she
replied firmly. “We have to stop them from reaching Zion.”
“What if one day we
find ourselves fighting each other because of politics?” 622 pressed, his gaze
unwavering.
Nara met his eyes,
the weight of his question sinking in. “If that ever happens, yes, I would have
to break our friendship. It would be painful, but in war, you fight the enemy,
no matter how difficult.”
622 chuckled lightly,
reloading his magazine. Nara felt a flush of annoyance; she couldn’t tell if he
found her response amusing or serious.
As the battle raged on, the Holy People Council
unleashed their own supersoldiers, known as the “Sacred Band.” A fierce
confrontation erupted in the north of Ashgabat, setting the stage for an epic
clash between the Magog and Sacred Band forces.
With the coalition
forces launching a final assault on the Ancient Palace—Zion’s presumed last
stand—alam winter campaign is block zion retreat route in north, and coalition
is already surrounded the region. if they win this battle. war will end soon.
but if not, the red army in north american reinforment will arive and bring
more death and destruction for all both side.
the fighting grew
increasingly intense. They faced fierce resistance from Zion's elite
bodyguards, who not only fought with skill but were armed with chemical bullets
that could send anyone into a berserker rage.
“This is our time,
Nara,” 622 said, his voice steady. “We’ll go through the sewers and attack
Zion’s bunker beneath the palace.”
As they maneuvered
through the tunnels, the coalition forces broke through the wall, finding
themselves surrounded by treasures and traps. Gold coins and priceless
artifacts glittered in the dim light, but danger lurked in every corner.
then they fight in
palace hall. when amazon pretorian guard is wait for them. the fight is fierce.
both side armed to the teeths, and both are elite of their resprective nation.
but they had a number. which now not in red army side. The team fought room by
room, inching closer to their objective as the resistance grew fiercer. Just
when it seemed they might break through,
until a flame erupt
on the hall. then a man with exosuit armed with flame thrower, burn a anything
on his path. until nara who covering on pillar shot his google. the man then
return attack on nara position. and she dodge it at last moment.
the man then
recognize nara movement. and open his helmet a bit. its was a Fredrick,
the same gladiator nara fight in grid arena. “we meet again little girl. now i
had chance to burn you into a toast!”
nara smirk. “hah!. i dont had time for you” she start
open fire again. but Fredrick exosuit harmless on nara bullet. nara then keep
dodging and run a circle. hoping flanking him and attack on his vurnurable
position. until the radio on her ear bark a command “get out of there. we are
overwhelmed by enemy. air strike will commence soon!”
“what the fuck.we are still inside!” nara reply
“its cant be helped. its not from our side. but from
blue nation”
nara then peek at Fredrick among the pillars, she
observe
. she must fast
defeat Fredrick for good. she then took a bat on the museum
display. its belong to legendary player. which nara cant speel its name. nara
will plan to just use her brute force. but then when she trying charge fredrick. a missile from ceiling
hit him on direct hit. his exosuit and flesh turn into a red splat. an
explosion rocked the corridor, sending Nara tumbling into a quieter, isolated
part of the palace
Disoriented but
determined, she found herself face to face with two armored guards. Her heart
raced as she realized her SMG wouldn’t be enough against them.
Despite sustaining a
few hits, Nara pressed on, trying to disarm one of the guards. She shot
frantically at his helmet until, with a lucky shot, the glass shattered, and he
dropped dead.
With one guard down,
she turned her weapon on the other, who, seeing her superhuman ability, dropped
his gun and raised his hands. He pointed silently to a door, and Nara had no
choice but to follow his direction.
After opening the door, nara saw an
unexpected sight for her. Sitting at the desk, facing her was none other than
the Zion himself. Her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of him. they are face
with each other again, but in a much different situation than before. Zion is
just sipping on his tea.
zion is now sipping on his tea while facing
nara at his desk. his face remains calm and he seems unconcerned about the
tense situation outside his bunker. he is the leader and enemy of nara and now
they are sitting facing each other on different situation. nara is surprise by
the sight of him. she was not expecting this. zion just keep sip his tea while
maintaining his calmness and showing no emotion whatsoever.
zion suddenly narrow his eyes at nara,
recognizing that she was one of his ex bodyguard who now become a rebel and
join his enemy. he seems to be sizing her up.
zion and nara continues to stare at each
other in this intense and tense situation. both of them knows who the other is
and the current situation is indeed a delicate one. it seems that neither of
them is giving in easily and there is an air of tension that is palpable
between them.
Chapter 117 End of all war
Keith stood in the command office, the atmosphere
tense. The room was dimly lit, with flickering screens casting shadows on the
faces of the high-ranking officers present: Trickster and Kassandra. Outside,
the distant sounds of conflict served as a reminder of the chaos beyond their
walls. Meanwhile, the other Wardogs, including Juggernaut and Weaver, were
engaged in a endless battle in the south.
“Zion’s forces are trapped in the northern Emerald
League,” Keith stated, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “The True Horde
has cut off their route. That means no soldiers, no food, and no munitions. We
must initiate an airlift to maintain our supply chain.”
He leaned over the map spread across the table,
tracing the lines of their dwindling resources with his finger. “If we’re going
to make this work, we need to convert our Boomerang bombers into airlift
transports. We can’t afford to neglect the European front; we need to support
Juggernaut and Wraith to break through.”
As he spoke, Keith glanced at Kassandra and
Trickster, who exchanged looks, avoiding his gaze. Frustration bubbled within
him. “You...” he started, his voice low, but the anger simmered just beneath
the surface as he regarded them. Their silence spoke volumes.
Trickster intertwined his fingers, a nervous smirk
playing on his lips. “The circumstances in the field aren’t in our favor.
Perhaps it’s time for our forces to... rest.”
Kassandra nodded, her expression unreadable.
“We’ll send medals with the next airlift to our soldiers,” she added, her tone
casual.
Keith’s face flushed with indignation. The weight of
their words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Without another
word, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door clicking shut behind
him.
Once he was gone, Kassandra and
Trickster exchanged glances, their sinister grins revealing a shared
understanding of the precarious situation they were navigating.
Kassandra simply nodded, her expression still unreadable. It’s
unfortunate, but necessary.then
she start take a spoon of avocado on nearby bowl
Elsewhere in the bunker, a crackling radio broadcast cut through the tense
silence. Nara and Zion, locked in their own silent standoff, both turned their
attention to the distorted voice. "...supply lines cut... heavy losses
reported... situation critical..."
Nara’s eyes narrowed. She glanced at Zion, who remained infuriatingly calm,
sipping his tea as if the world wasn't falling apart. The juxtaposition of his
calm demeanor against the news felt surreal. The air was tense, but he remained
composed, waiting for Nara to make a move.
Suddenly, a massive
explosion rattled the bunker, sending a tremor through the ground that made
Zion’s teacup quiver. He continued to sip his tea, seemingly unfazed by the
chaos outside, while Nara watched him in silence, lost in thought.
Just then, a team of
coalition spec ops burst into the room, guns trained on Zion, creating an
instant standoff. “Get down! Hands in the air!” 622 shouted, urgency in his
voice.
Zion complied, slowly
raising his hands, his expression still calm. He was a picture of serenity
amidst the storm, though the concern in his eyes flickered like a candle in the
wind.
But in an instant,
the situation escalated. Zion drew a his fire axe and swiftly dispatched the
first spec ops member who tried to handcuff him. The speed and agility he
displayed were shocking, leaving the other team members scrambling to react.
The others reacted instantly, but
Zion was already using the fallen body as a shield, firing the downed soldier's
own weapon. It was a brutal, efficient dance of death.
Nara stood frozen,
her heart racing as she witnessed the brutal efficiency of her former employer.
It was like watching a nightmare unfold in real time.
As the last of the
spec ops collapsed, Nara felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. “This can’t be
happening,” she whispered, her mind racing. Zion, ever composed, resumed
sipping his tea as if nothing had occurred, the stark contrast of his calmness
against the chaos around him pushing her to the edge.
In that moment, a
memory flared to life—her grandfather, Hejaz, lying on his deathbed, entrusting
her with the promise to bring Zion's head back. The weight of her duty settled
heavily on her chest. Adrenaline surged through her veins, igniting a fierce
determination.
With a primal scream,
Nara charged at Zion, her eyes blazing with fury. “You’ll pay for what you’ve
done!” she yelled, swinging her bat with all her might. The first hit struck
Zion’s shoulder, and he stumbled back, caught off guard by her ferocity.
Zion attempted to
defend himself, raising his axe, but Nara was relentless. “You think you can
just sip tea while everything crumbles around you?” she spat, her bat a
whirlwind of destruction as she rained down blow after blow.
Zion's composure
began to crack, his defenses faltering under the onslaught. He tried to parry
her swings, but each strike sent shockwaves through his body, knocking him off
balance. Nara’s rage fueled her strength, transforming her into an unstoppable
force.
The close-quarters
combat erupted into a brutal ballet of violence. Nara poured every ounce of her
fury into her strikes, and Zion, weakened by the relentless assault, struggled
to raise his arms to defend himself.
As the fight reached
its climax, the sound of the battle outside faded into the background. Nara's
focus was singular; she was determined to see this through. Each swing of her
bat felt like a cathartic release, each connection a step closer to fulfilling
her promise.
Finally, Zion,
battered and bloodied, collapsed under the weight of her unyielding assault.
The silence in the room was
deafening, broken only by Nara’s ragged breathing. Outside, the echoes of
gunfire and explosions gradually subsided, replaced by the shouts of soldiers
securing the bunker. A young soldier, no older than twenty, hesitantly
approached, his face pale. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “Is…
is he…?” Nara simply nodded, unable to speak. The soldier’s eyes widened, a
mixture of disbelief and relief washing over him. He turned and stumbled back
towards the doorway, shouting, “He’s down! Zion’s down!” The cry was taken up
by others, spreading like wildfire through the bunker, a ragged cheer erupting
from weary throats. But in Nara’s ears, it sounded hollow. She looked down at
Zion’s lifeless form, a strange emptiness settling in her chest. The weight of
Hejaz’s promise, finally fulfilled, felt strangely light, almost meaningless
The news of his death
would ripple through the coalition forces, a turning point in the battle for
Ashgabat., the coalition forces erupted in celebration, their morale soaring as
they recognized the significance of this victory. Though the battle raged on,
the death of Zion was a beacon of hope for them, signaling a shift in the tides
of war.
Outside, the fighting had died down. The
air was thick with smoke and the smell of gunpowder. Coalition soldiers were
moving through the bunker, checking for survivors. The news spread quickly:
Zion was dead. A cheer went up, but it was a weary cheer, the sound of men who
had seen too much. The death of a leader, though a strategic victory, often
leaves a void that is difficult to fill. While some celebrated victory and
others mourned their losses, life continued, demanding new beginnings.
at early may 2406
As the remnants of the Red Army
began to surrender or flee Ashgabat, sporadic skirmishes erupted across the
city. The Coalition forces secured control, declaring victory on May 2nd, but
the aftermath revealed widespread devastation and immense loss—both military
and civilian. The Battle of Ashgabat marked a pivotal turning point in the war,
weakening Zion's grip on power. While the Coalition celebrated their
hard-fought victory, the road ahead remained fraught with challenges.
Kassandra, now the
leader of the Red Nation following Zion's death, faced a grim reality. As the
Coalition forces advanced, her orders became desperate. With the threat of
extinction looming, she authorized the use of nuclear weapons, a last resort to
intimidate the Coalition and stave off further incursions into Red territory.
The tension escalated as both sides awaited the other's response, the air thick
with uncertainty.
Meanwhile, the Red
Nation fell into chaos. Another rebellion broke out, resulting in Kassandra’s
death, plunging the nation into civil war. The Coalition forces, divided in
their response, grappled with the humanitarian crisis while other nations
seized the opportunity to expand their territories. The world was in turmoil,
and the specter of war loomed larger than ever.
In the midst of this
upheaval, Nigel, the war hero of the Emerald League, proposed a world
conference. After long discussions filled with passionate debates, world
leaders reached a consensus: they would halt expansion into Red Nation
territory and focus on rebuilding instead. It was a collective realization that
continued fighting would only lead to more destruction.
meanwhile at xian palace chamber, Alam held Baihu
close as they lay on the bed, their eyes locked onto the tiny miracle between
them—their daughter. The soothing sounds of her coos filled the room like a gentle
melody, and fatigue washed over Baihu like a warm tide lapping at the shore.
“They say a mother’s love splits after having a
child,” Alam remarked, his playful tone contrasting the gravity of his words.
Baihu chuckled softly, shaking her head. “That’s
nonsense. My love for you has only grown. You’ve been my rock through
everything.”
He kissed her forehead, warmth radiating from his
touch. “I hope so. You both are my world.”
A fire ignited within Baihu at his words, filling her
with a boundless love that expanded with every heartbeat.
Suddenly, Alam’s expression shifted, seriousness
creeping in. “I’m afraid of dying now.”
The weight of his confession caught Baihu off guard.
“Why? Are you worried about leaving us?”
“Yes. I’m a soldier. I’ve always been reckless, but
now… I want to be here for you both.”
Baihu nodded, understanding the gravity of their new
reality. “We have a baby now; we have to think about our responsibilities. We
can’t be reckless anymore. We have to protect her.”
Their hands clasped together, a silent reassurance
that they were in this together. The weight of shared responsibility settled
around them like a comforting blanket.
“Is this how all parents feel?” Alam asked, his brow
furrowed.
“Absolutely. It’s overwhelming but beautiful. We must
keep her safe, nurture her, and ensure she grows up happy and healthy,” Baihu
replied, her voice steady.
“No more wandering?” Alam asked, a playful glint in
his eye.
Baihu smiled, shaking her head. “Not for a while. Rosa
is my priority now. She deserves all my time and love.”
“Let’s give her a better childhood than we had,” he
suggested, his words striking a deep chord within her.
“Exactly. She deserves a life free from worry. Let’s
give her the love we craved as children.”
“I’m feeling emotional now,” Alam admitted, feigning a
dramatic sigh.
Baihu raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “What’s wrong? Am
I being too overbearing?”
“I’m sorry for how I was before. I was a bad man back
then.”
Baihu shook her head firmly. “That’s in the past. I
love you for who you are now. Just be the caring husband and father you’ve
become. And I’ll keep showering you both with affection.”
Their lips met in a soft kiss, igniting a deeper bond
between them. Outside, the world faded away; it was just the two of
them—imperfect people embracing their new roles as perfect parents, ready to
build a beautiful life for Rosa.
Quiet Moment at Xian Palace, The sun hung
low over Xian Palace, casting long shadows that danced across the stone
courtyard. Alam leaned against an ancient wall, a playful glint in his eyes as
he turned to Baihu, who sat nearby, curiosity etched on her face.
“Hey, can I ask you a random question?” he ventured.
Baihu looked up, a smile breaking across her face.
“Hello there, darling. You look much healthier after last night’s… activities.
What’s your question?”
“Do you think world conquest is worth it?” Alam asked,
his tone unexpectedly serious.
Baihu's eyes widened in surprise, her fingers pausing
mid-air. “That’s certainly random. I’m torn between giving you a serious answer
or a humorous one. But let’s go with honesty. World conquest isn’t easy, but
for someone with ambition and power, maybe it’s worth it,” she mused.
Alam pinched her cheek playfully, a mischievous grin
creeping onto his face. “You’re so cute when you’re serious.”
Baihu laughed, her mirth ringing like music in the
quiet courtyard. “Oh, you’re just being cheeky because you feel good after our
fun last night! Well, I’m refreshed and ready for more fun, too!” She pulled
him closer, wrapping her arms around him, fingers tangling in his hair,
igniting a spark of intimacy in the air.
“Why didn’t you conquer Hongkong in the past?” Alam
asked, intrigued.
“Well, conquering Hongkong didn’t seem worth the
effort. I prefer trade; it’s lucrative without the chaos of war. Besides, being
a pirate, my freedom is paramount. Why trade that for a throne?” Baihu replied,
continuing to caress his hair, the gentle motion soothing.
“So you’d rather let others rule?” Alam queried, his
brow furrowed.
“Exactly! I enjoy my freedom far too much to be
shackled by politics. Pirates thrive on adventure, not governance.”
Alam’s expression turned contemplative. “Do you think
I should give up my throne?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty.
Baihu considered it carefully. “That’s a big decision. Are you tired of the
responsibility? If it feels like a burden, stepping down might be wise. But
remember, if you leave, who will take care of your people?”
Alam sighed, the burden of leadership evident in his
eyes. “I’ve been wild for four years now. I’m thinking of reducing my role to
Marshal and finding a puppet to rule in my place.”
Baihu raised an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting
strategy, but be careful. Handing the throne to someone you don’t trust can
lead to disaster. Choose wisely, dear.”
“I want a good leader—someone balanced, surrounded by
loyal bodyguards,” Alam replied, nodding thoughtfully.
“You’re not a bad person for wanting to step down. You
want to find someone competent to lead, and that’s honorable. You’re doing this
for your people, not just for yourself,” Baihu said, her voice reassuring.
He smiled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I
guess it’s about perspective. And honestly, I want to spend more time with you
and my soldiers.”
“So, you’re admitting you want to be a little selfish?
I can respect that,” she teased, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Life is
fleeting, and we must cherish those we love. If you want to spend more time
with me and your comrades, then do it! I’d love to have more of you.”
“I’m just afraid I’ll lose myself in the throne. All I
see are numbers and politics, strangers wanting something from me,” Alam
confessed,
Baihu’s expression softened. “It’s natural to fear
losing yourself. If the throne has become a prison, perhaps it’s time to let
someone else carry that weight. You might discover freedom and joy again.”
She leaned closer, the warmth of her presence
enveloping him.
“Yes…” he whispered, capturing her lips in a deep
kiss, longing and relief intertwining in the moment.
As they pulled away, Alam’s gaze shifted to the news
flickering on a nearby screen. The announcement of the end of World War IV
flashed across the screen, and his brows furrowed in contemplation.
“So, the Red Hair is dead by his ex-bodyguard?
Classic. Just like Roman emperors and Ottoman sultans. The red nations are in
disarray… Victory is imminent,” he mused, his mind racing as he glanced at the
map of America displayed prominently.
“World conquest? Tempting…” His
eyes sparkled with the possibilities ahead, the thrill of ambition igniting a
fire deep within him once more.
The words, though spoken elsewhere, resonated with
Weaver, a bitter irony twisting in his gut. Tempting for him,
perhaps. Not for those left behind. The news had spread like
wildfire: Zion was dead. His army, fractured and leaderless, was collapsing.
Even now, Weaver could hear the distant cheers of the Coalition, their morale
surging with every surrendering Red soldier. But the worst blow wasn’t the
enemy’s victory; it was the betrayal. His own men, men he had fought beside,
were now laying down their arms, some even turning them against their former
comrades.
“tonight the news was confirmed,
in a way, its dispels all doubt.. all that is left for us is to die an
honourable death, It felt like only yesterday they were preparing for war.. now we must get used to the thought of total
annihilation “
Weaver, then continue fight endless foe. he got
bullet, and crossbow arrow on his chest. he then tear his military jacket.
checking his wound. his semi composite skin implant save him again. but not for
too long.
until he heard on radio on dead soldier in corner of
crumbling room. “juggernout , khan of khaganate surrender!” weaver look at sky
First they came for the Tribals
and I didn't speak up
because I wasn't a Tribals
Then they came for the Streetkids
and I didn't speak up
because I wasn't a Streetkids
Then they came for the Wanderers
and I didn't speak up
because I wasn't a Wanderers
Then they came for Emerald league
and I didn't speak up
because I wasn't a Emerald league
Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up for me
He aimed at the approaching another wave traitors come from ruins, his
finger tightening on the trigger. He would take as many of them with him as he
could.
But before he could fire, the ground erupted. A blinding flash engulfed
him, followed by the thunderous roar of artillery. He
saw their faces, contorted with a mix of fear and determination. They were
coming for him. And then, the world went white.
Chapter 118
Yellow Epilogue
The screen flickered to life, and Veronica appeared, her iconic grin
lighting up the room.
"Welcome to Witty World News! Buckle up, folks—this is going to be a
wild ride!"
As she launched into the latest headlines, the chaos of the world unfolded
with a delightful absurdity. The end of World War IV had arrived, but not
without the kind of drama that would leave even Shakespeare scratching his
head.
“In Ashgabat, the Red Nation's infamous leader, Zion, met his end—not in a
blaze of glory, but at the hands of his former bodyguard, Nara. Apparently, a
family grudge and a baseball bat were involved. Who knew betrayal could come
with a side of sports?”
The room in coalition command center erupted in mixed laughter and
disbelief. The absurdity of it all was almost comforting.
The room erupted in a mix of laughter and disbelief. The sheer absurdity
was almost comforting, a familiar refrain in the ongoing sitcom that was human
history. Because, let's face it, history tends to repeat itself like a bad
sitcom that just won’t get canceled. Each culture develops its own unique
worldview, a peculiar blend of hatred and tolerance, leading to predictable
cycles of unexpected unions and equally predictable wars.
Speaking of predictable, the Red Nation, now under the leadership of
Kassandra following Zion's untimely demise (baseball bat, remember?), found
itself in a rather sticky situation. With Coalition forces nipping at their
heels, Kassandra, in a move of pure soap-opera desperation, authorized the use
of nuclear weapons. A classic "if I can't have it, no one can"
scenario. The world held its breath, waiting for the inevitable fireworks.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans. In a plot twist worthy of a
telenovela, Kassandra's reign was cut short. Not by Coalition forces, mind you,
but by the Minister, her favorite avocado bowl is poisoned.
Minister, in a truly bizarre display of post-coup leisure, was found
casually playing with Kassandra's hat atop her now-empty office chair. One can
only imagine the jaunty angle he'd achieved.
This moment of levity, however, was short lived as the Lord from Red Summer
promptly dispatched the Minister. The maid, witness to this tragicomic
spectacle, looked around the office, a single tear rolling down her cheek for
the late Panji. Then, with a sigh and a heavy, almost knowing smile, she turned
to the Lord and embraced him. The Red Nation was now a swirling vortex of
political intrigue, but at least one tyrant was gone—replaced by another,
naturally.
Bartoleme and Corvo walked into the office, surveying the scene.
Bartoleme tipped his hat to the room in general. "Well, that's that
then. Rise and fall. Pity our friend Panji didn't live to see the end of
it."
Corvo nodded, glancing at the bloodstains. "Yeah. Guess the end of the
tunnel was a train for him."
At the depths of the Pacific, at his metropolis city, Jozen chuckled, the
absurdity of it all washing over him like a warm tide.
“The world today is truly wild. Conflicts are still brewing, but at least
they’re settling their scores with dance-offs instead of gunfire. Maybe there’s
hope after all.”
he then rub his hand together and lean on his chair. while in other
monitor. his pirate ally keep raiding the coastals city on america
At the Hornet tent, Nara winced, the bandages on her body a reminder of her
recent battles. Her grudge against Zion had finally been settled, but the
aftermath was far from peaceful.
Nara look at her bandange“So, it’s not over yet. We’re still in the thick
of it, and I have to ensure these factions can find common ground. The drama
isn’t finished.”
Laila raised her glass, a genuine smile on her face. Her troops echoed the
sentiment, a mix of cheers and relieved sighs.
“This is fantastic news! Decades of conflict are finally coming to an end.
Let’s celebrate, friends!”
In a quiet clearing in Medina, Hejaz folded the newspaper, a deep frown
creasing his brow.
““We’ve Won the war,” he murmured” , but why is the conflict still
simmering? Why can’t we find true peace?” the weight of the world settling on
his shoulders.
Inside the Serpent Team’s tent, the flickering light of the monitor cast
long shadows. The air was thick with the smell of stale rations and unwashed
uniforms. They watched the news, the broadcast replaying the footage of the
chaotic aftermath in Ashgabat.
A team member whistled softly. “Can you believe this? Zion’s death, and now
the Coalition and the Emerald League are at each other's throats. It’s like
reality TV but with higher stakes.”
Yu stared at the screen, "We made it through the chaos. Now, it's time
to heal and help others find their way back to peace.".
Patrick simply watched, his face grim. Tetsuya, however, raised an eyebrow,
a flicker of something almost like amusement in his eyes. He glanced towards
the Strider tanks in the workshop visible through the tent flap.
"Well," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Guess
I'll have to find a new job. Maybe tank racing. That could be fun."
In the underground bunker beneath the war-torn palace of Tehran, Nigel
slumped back in his chair, the news report playing silently on the screen. The
image of the bat, now a macabre artifact, was burned into his mind.
“A baseball bat? Really? This is how the world ends—by sporting equipment?
Absurd.” He rubbed his forehead,
Crips leaned forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. He didn't say
anything, but his gaze was fixed on the screen, a silent acknowledgment of the
strange turn of events.
the news reach Kaveh retreat place,, he turn into deep frown. war is over.
but his career is over, perhaps. its time for redemption for sure
in outskirt of ruins of Tehran, Sarah, her strong arms still, carefully
lowered a precarious stack of salvaged furniture, giggling children perched
precariously on top. The nearby crowd clapped and cheered, a brief moment of
joy in the midst of the devastation. Sarah chuckled, glancing at a news report
on the makeshift public monitor
“So, the war is winding down, but the drama is just heating up. I just hope
we can navigate this transition without another blow-up.”
She looked out at the faces of the refugees, a deep weariness settling in
her eyes. "I just hope we can get through this without more blood
spilled."
Bora sat on a rocky outcrop overlooking the vast steppe. The wind whipped
around her, carrying the faint scent of smoke from distant fires. She watched
the horizon, her expression grim. A news report crackled from a small radio
beside her.
She let out a short, harsh laugh, more bitter than amused. “Looks like
we’ve got more war coming our way," she muttered, kicking at the dirt with
her boot. She sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “im tired”
Light sat in the serene courtyard of the Shangri-La Citadel, surrounded by
meditating monks. The news report played on a small screen discreetly placed
among the prayer wheels. His face was serene, but a sinister smile creeping
across his face as he absorbed the news.
“Zion’s death at the hands of his bodyguard—it’s almost poetic. A
modern-day Brutus, but with a twist. Instead of a dagger, we have a head in a
jar. How delightful.” He chuckled softly, a hint of genuine amusement in his
voice.
At the Xian Palace, the Wanderer Group and Crescent Alliance forces
gathered around the news screens. The reports were fragmented, chaotic:
Kassandra's death, internal power struggles within the Red Nation, scattered
fighting continuing in various regions.
Fang's eyes widened. "This is insane! The war's supposed to be over,
but it's just… different chaos now. A new leader every other hour, infighting
everywhere—it's a mess!"
Yang, his one good eye fixed on the screen, adjusted the eyepatch covering
the other. "We need to watch this closely. This mess is going to spill
over, I can feel it."
Zao, however, barely seemed to register the news. His gaze was locked on a
separate screen displaying a map of his homeland. The eastern wastelands were
marked with radiation zones, reports of mutated creatures, and scattered
pockets of resistance. The war might be over for the rest of the world, but for
him, it was far from finished. He knew the suffering there would continue.
The mood in the room was a volatile mix. Some officers watched the news
with unreadable expressions, their faces like masks. The fragile alliance
between the True Horde Confederacy and the Crescent Alliance, forged by the
common enemy of the Red Nation, now felt precarious. The shared purpose that
had bound them together was gone.
A nervous laugh broke the tension. A junior officer from the Crescent
Alliance, his face pale, turned to others. "So… after Zion's death… are we
going to kill each other?"
Ali offered a tight, humorless grin. "Wouldn't surprise me."
Near the back of the room, an older general Jax stared at the screen, his
eyes glistening. He looked almost on the verge of tears, not from grief for
Zion, but from the realization of what might come next. Zhang stood quietly,
his faces as impassive as stone mountains,
In the Carpathian Mountains, home of wanderers, Carmelita watched the news
unfold, her brow furrowed in concern.
Carmelita touched the edge of her black veil, her dark red eyes fixed on
the screen “The Red Nation is in disarray, but at least the nuclear threat is
off the table. Thank goodness for small mercies.”
In central Africa, a circular hall with a gleaming golden floor. Shakanya
and her general stood in the center of the room, their voices echoing slightly
in the vast space.
Shakanya looked around the empty hall, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"So, World War IV is over," she said. "Everyone's celebrating
peace." She intertwined her fingers, the smile fading.
Her general met her gaze. "And preparing for the next one," he
finished. "The Yellow and Blue Nations… they’re like two scorpions in a
bottle."
Shakanya nodded. "We need to be ready."
At Pulau Kesenangan in the Nusantara Union, Banyan leaned back on his
tiger-skin couch, the humid air thick with the scent of spices and blooming
jasmine. The distant sound of gamelan music drifted in from the gardens. He
swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the light catch the intricate
carvings on the rim.
Banyan chuckled softly. "Our world thrives on drama and
conflict," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Like a
stage play that never ends. It’s fascinating how peace is always short-lived.”
He took a sip of his drink, his eyes distant. "And then… the curtain rises
again."
Back in Madagascar, the Holy See sat in his office, the view from the
highest building in the nation stretching out before him. He flicked off the news,
the endless cycle of violence starting to give him a headache. He sighed,
reaching for his boba. "Double tapioca," he mumbled to his assistant,
who wordlessly handed him the drink. "At least some things stay
consistent."
At the Loving Peace concert, Cecilia finished her performance, the crowd
cheering wildly. "The world is better when we embrace love, not
hate!" she'd declared, her voice ringing with forced optimism
Backstage, her manager showed her the news on his phone. Her smile faltered
“So many lives lost! I can’t tolerate this! We must do something!”
Razor read the news, a long sigh escaping his lips. "The war's
over," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. " Sure, “ He
rubbed his tired eyes. “there will be problems ahead, but at least people can
start to rebuild their lives.”
Razor then look at other CAD team. who gather around near hospital garden,
they like treated Vance like some sort of grandma, “well” razor shrug. then
flip his laptop and walk toward them
meanwhile Duc and its comrade sitting on trench then startled on Iron Hill
gate stronghold open. revealing wraith himself step out from building.
“its time to take out the trash” wraith said while open his arms
At the Red Nation base in Canada, Trickster’s brow furrowed at the shifting
dynamics.
“This is getting complicated. The tensions are still high, and I can feel
the storm brewing.”
later Duc and last remnant of Bastard brigade storm to the command center
in canada, kill anyone in sight
Wraith then arrive with pistol in his hand “yes, goodbye trickster”
Trickster then raise his hand “no wait.. project is started!” then loud
bang heard
Nara stood against the backdrop of the Triple Towers at Arizona, where
anarchists roamed the streets, gleefully dismantling propaganda monitors like
kids on a sugar high. She revved up Panji's bike, ready to ride into the
sunset, no longer just a mindless mercenary but a vigilante with a heart.
In a world that had once been a mighty empire, she was determined to carve
her own path, proving that even in chaos, one could find purpose—and maybe a
little bit of fun along the way. After all, who needs a crown when you can have
a motorcycle and a cause?
Life on the trash island had changed. The sky gods had stopped sending
their strange gifts. No more bodies washing ashore, no more random crates of
supplies. But Low Tide's tribe was resilient. They had a new generation now, a
baby born on the island, a sign of their continued existence.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a dark shape broke the
surface of the water: a submarine, escorted by a pirate ship. Low Tide gathered
his people, spears and makeshift firearms raised in defense.
A figure emerged from the submarine, hands held high. The pirates followed,
their expressions surprisingly friendly. They told stories of a world torn by
war, of cities reduced to rubble, of leaders rising and falling.
Low Tide listened, his brow furrowed, especially when they spoke of Jozen,
once revered as a god, now revealed as a man – a flawed, powerful man, shown in
a recording the pirates had. The idea of his gods being just men… it was
unsettling.
"Why are you here?" Low Tide asked, his voice steady.
"We're done with it," one of the pirates said. "The
fighting, the chaos… it's never going to end. Another cold war. ww1, ww2. word
war tokyo drift?, we done with that, We just wanted… peace. Somewhere far
away."
Low Tide nodded slowly. He understood the need for peace. He allowed them
to stay. Among them was a woman named Bora. Their eyes met, a silent connection
forming.
Later, after they were married, after she had become part of his tribe,
Bora told him her own story. She spoke of the war, of the Red Nation, of a man
named Zion obsessed with conquest, a man who wanted to unite the world through
force. She even showed him a symbol, a mark on her skin – proof that she had
once been a double agent, part of the Amazon Praetorian Guard.
Low Tide listened, mostly confused. He didn't understand the empires stuff
and especially world domination. world is too big for one person.
things He understood is just fishing, hunting, protecting his tribe. just
be a human being. But he looked at Bora, at the woman he had chosen, and he
accepted her, past and all.
Meanwhile in north baltic, Olga Varvara looked up from her work, her eyes
lighting up with genuine warmth as Alam walked into the room. Finally. He's
back. Looking a bit worse for wear, as usual. "Ah, hey Alam, good to see
you again! How have you been? Did you just get back from the frontline?"
Alam nodded, a weary smile touching his lips. "Yeah..."
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind in a silent
gesture of affection. Always with the grand gestures. He knows I appreciate
them. Though… perhaps a bit less clinging today.
Olga responded with a gentle smile, slowly turning to face him and
returning the embrace. "Hmmmm... It's been such a long time... I missed
you..." A long time indeed. Too long. The world felt… less interesting
without him around to stir things up.
Alam's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Yes... Long time no see...
Hey, I have some news... I have a daughter now."
"Ahaha... So you have a daughter now, huh? That's certainly good
news... May I know who's the lucky mother of your daughter?"
Alam's smile was tinged with pride. "The Baihu... Yes, the general I
was fond of in the past."
Olga's laughter was warm and hearty. Baihu, eh? That fiery little thing.
Good for him. She'll keep him on his toes. Though… a daughter. That's…
unexpected.. "Ahhh, that's some good news right there! So, you have a
daughter now, huh? Congratulations, Matey! And I see, the mom is none other
than that Baihu general you've been fond of in the past, right?"
Alam nodded, his expression softening. "Yes... Please sit on the couch
so I can lay my head on your lap and rest."
Olga's response was playful yet accommodating. "Ahaha... Sure,
Matey... I'll let you rest on my lap and I'll pat you gently as you slowly
rest... I'll even feed you a bit of food that I've got here on this
table..."
Alam settled comfortably, a contented hum escaping his lips. "Good
enough... “Alam lying on her lap“ hmhm...”
Olga began to gently stroke his hair and back, her gaze loving and tender.
He feels… different. Not just tired. There's something else there. A weight.
Responsibility, perhaps? It suits him.
Alam's question broke the comfortable silence. "Hey... Do you still
wage war in the west? When do you decide to stop?"
Olga's answer was thoughtful, her tone serious. "Oh, the waging war in
the west, you ask? Well, it still continues for now, but we're already planning
to stop it soon. The reason why we're still waging the war is to secure our
dominance in the west so that we can have a stronger grip on the entire Blue
Nation territory”
She tapped a crimson-tipped finger against her lips, the polished nail
catching the light.
“But soon, we'll have a meeting with the other alliance leaders to discuss
the end of this war. So, I believe it will not last long. Why the question, by
the way? Are you not happy with our current approach to the war?"
Alam's response was earnest. "Yeah... We destroyed the Red Nation...
They are crippled and no longer pose a threat to the world... We don't have any
justification to continue."
Olga nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly. We have already achieved our
goal, which is to defeat and cripple the Red Nation. There is no need for us to
continue our war now that we have accomplished that."
Alam chuckled softly. "Good... Hehe... Unless..."
Olga's curiosity was piqued. "Unless...?? Unless what?"
Alam's question was laced with a hint of challenge. "Unless you want
world conquest."
Olga's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and contemplation.
"Hmmmm... World conquest, huh? That's interesting... I'll consider that
for sure... But for now, I think I'd prefer taking over the West first before
doing anything else."
Alam's tone was inquisitive. "Why? Aren't you satisfied with your
territory?"
"Hmm... You could say that... That's because of my old habits that I
still like to do wars and battles... I will never stop making new territory as
long as I could and won't be tired of doing that either... I believe that the
whole world was meant to be my territory... That will always be my goal."
Alam's question was pointed. "I see... Does that include my
nation?"
"Hmmm... Well, I must say, I do have my eyes on you and your nation.
You guys are a very appealing target to my eyes... A very interesting target
indeed... So, do I have my eyes set on your nation, you ask? Yes, you could say
that I do have that very thing in mind, my dear... That is indeed the
case..."
Alam's observation was tinged with a hint of resignation. "I see...
That kind of mindset is what makes the world never truly peaceful."
Olga's laughter was soft, almost rueful. "Yeah... you're right... I
have that kind of mindset that will always make sure that peace and order never
exist in any nation... That's just who I am... I'm the one who makes things
messy and chaotic... I'm the one who creates disorder... I'm the one who likes
to see people suffer... That's just who I am... I'm the one who causes chaos
and suffering... I'm the one who likes to conquer and destroy... I'm the one
who likes war and battle... I'm the one who likes suffering... That's just who
I am... And nothing can change that."
Alam, with a playful grin, pinched her nose lightly. "Hehe... “Alam
pinches her nose.
Olga retaliated with a playful pout, pinching his nose back and giving it a
gentle flick. "Hey!"
Alam's pout"Nyahh..."
Olga's curiosity was piqued once more. What's he thinking? What's he
planning? He's never this… docile. "Huh? What is it, Matey?" She
slowly looked back at him with a curious expression on her face.
Alam a pondering of the future. "Nothing... Hmm... We just never find
peace in this world, isn't it?"
Olga's response was a sobering reality check. "Yes... we just never
find peace in this world... This is a world of chaos and war... And we'll never
find peace until the whole world is under my rule... Until then, we'll never
get the peace that you're seeking... That's reality... I'm sorry if I'm being
too honest with you here, but it's the truth anyway."
Alam's chuckle was soft, almost resigned. "Hehe... “Alam pinches her
nose harder.
Olga's laughter was light, a moment of playfulness amidst their heavy
discussion. "Hey!" She quickly pinched his nose back, a playful smile
on her face.
Alam's question was a contemplation of the aftermath. "What happens
after you die, just after conquering the world... Do you expect the world to
bow to a dead person?"
Olga's answer was thoughtful, Perhaps. A god-queen in Valhalla, ruling
over the living from beyond the veil. Now that would be a legacy.
"Hmm... What would happen after I died and conquered the whole world and
bow to a dead person? To be honest, I'm not really sure... that's something
that we'll have to wait and see... What do you think about it, eh, Matey? Do
you think we'll all bow to a dead person?"
Alam's belief was in a different kind of peace. "No... The world will
achieve ultimate peace if they found common understanding and
tolerance..."
Olga's agreement was heartfelt, a shared vision of a better world.
"Yeah... That's the best idea, isn't it? To have common understanding and
tolerance... That's the only way to achieve true peace in the world... But I
don't think that will happen, with how things are going now and how the world
is now... But I agree with your view, Matey... That's the best way to achieve
peace in the world... By having mutual understanding and tolerance... That's
the only way for lasting peace in the world."
"It will happen... I can smell it in the corner... “Alam wiggled his
eyebrows playfully.
Olga's laughter was warm, a mirroring of his playful gesture. "Oh? I
can see it too... It's near! And I can smell it too!” She slowly and playfully
mimicked his expression and wiggled her eyebrows with a playful smile on her
face.
Alam's hum contentment "Hmhm... Good... At least in your dream and
mind..."
Olga's response was a soft acknowledgment of their shared vision.
"Huhu... Yeah, at least in my dream and mind... That's a good starting
point, isn't it?"
Alam's eyes closed, a sense of peace washing over him. "Yes... “
Olga continued to gently pat him, a silent guardian as he slowly drifted off
to sleep. Sleep well, little matey. You'll need the rest
end
