Total Eradication

—!!

"…Hah."

Eardrum-shattering thunder and the thick stench of gunpowder blooming in the darkness. A tactical vest layered over a plate carrier stuffed with high-performance ballistic plates — and not one person in that gear, but two.

Still, it wasn't nearly enough to fully absorb the firepower from three grenades detonating simultaneously, head-on.

A shockwave that rattled the entire basement level three, fragments and stone chips that ricocheted off the walls. Even after punching through bodies and losing some velocity on impact, their lethality was immense.

I nearly got thrown back myself, but… I survived.

It might have looked like a hell of a gamble from the outside, but I'd been through similar situations a few times before. More than anything, I had too little info on the enemy.

So rather than leaving uncertain variables floating around during the engagement, I needed a method that would guarantee taking them out — even if it meant putting myself at risk.

From that perspective… it wasn't a completely unworkable move.

The two who'd thrown themselves in front of the grenades were already completely still.

I tossed the corpse I'd been holding and grabbed the gun slung across my chest, aiming toward the opposite entrance.

Keeping the muzzle trained, I answered the crackling comms.

"…Kiyo, you there? You alive? Please tell me you're not dead…"

"I'm fine, don't worry… If you're still nearby, check if any enemies are coming up the opposite entrance. As fast as you can."

"Oh, I was about to head up but they started shooting from that side… I'm lying flat at the basement 2 entrance, watching."

The screw of my focus had loosened for a moment, but it was already torqued tight again. The faintly glowing red dot of the sight kept tracking the opposite entryway.

Four seconds had passed since the grenade detonated. One by one, the preconditions and questions I needed to confirm to achieve the tactical objective rose back to the surface.

Remaining enemies: three. Position: the opposite staircase… can't be completely certain.

Grenades on hand: two. Neutralized targets: two — one machine gunner, the other appears to be a rifleman for now.

If they have a GRG or other equipment among their gear, they're likely the squad leader, but can't confirm at this point.

All things considered, the overall situation didn't seem to have changed much.

Risk assessment told me the scenario I absolutely had to avoid was the enemy slipping out to basement level 2. Given Harmony's solo firepower and skill, stopping that was impossible.

Before the enemy could pull themselves together and bug out, I had to move as fast as possible.

I gave a simple order.

"…I'm about to hit them from the rear. No matter what, stop them from getting out of that staircase."

"H-how do I do that…?"

"If anyone comes out, shoot them."

Something I'd learned through countless experiences: when a teammate lacks combat experience, you give them the simplest, most straightforward role and objective.

Just like the others did for me.

My job was done. Now it was time for CQB.

I checked my ammo, kept my aim steady, and carefully walked down the stairs. The weight of the trigger under my fingertip was palpable.

Absolute darkness wrapped around me completely. I checked each corner and hallway one by one, never dropping my vigilance toward the front.

Because while I was weathering the grenade blast, one of them might have slipped down to basement 3, set up a foothold, and fortified a defensive line.

In the middle of that, the comms crackled urgently.

—Ta-ta-tang!

"Eugene, they're shooting!"

I heard at least two distinct gunshots. She was talking but apparently also returning fire, so I didn't answer.

I maintained noise discipline. As I moved forward, the signs of presence and voices grew stronger.

A few times, the rear guard's flashlight swept the darkness, but the cover provided by a soda machine and a tipped-over trash can was as effective as ever.

In short, there were plenty of places to hide.

The engagement grew fiercer.

No matter how much Harmony sprayed bullets, the enemy wasn't stupid. They'd soon realize only one person was marking them.

I had to end this before they forced their way out of the staircase.

"…."

Noise and light are always enough to turn a person's attention the other way.

Fortunately, the firefight Harmony was putting up seemed to have drawn enough of the enemy's focus away from the possibility of a rear attack. I used that opening to reach the opposite descent route.

The distance to the enemy was barely six meters. But the tricky wall angle and the thick darkness concealed me well enough.

The rain of lead grew louder and more frequent.

Judging by the rising intensity and pitch of Harmony's voice screaming over the comms, the enemy was about to try breaking through to basement 2.

Not happening.

—Click!

The crisp sound of a pin being pulled was swallowed by the roar of gunfire before it could travel far.

About two seconds of cooking, then I hurled the grenade hard so it would bounce off the L-shaped wall of the entryway.

Most of it was hidden by the wall, so I couldn't see what kind of expression twisted onto those three faces waiting at the top of the stairs…

But one thing was certain: it wasn't a good one.

—!!

The earth-shaking blast was my start signal.

I pushed off the floor and surged forward like a spring. I leaped up the stairs in one bound — stairs covered in broken, shattered concrete fragments — and aimed my muzzle at the blurry shape in the smoke.

Selector switch: auto.

A thunderous roar shook the air.

—Tu-du-du-du-du!

"Aaaargh!"

It took barely two seconds for all thirty-one rounds to disappear.

The last ejected casing hit the ejector and flew out of the chamber. I started reloading the instant it did, and finished ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reloading by the time it hit the floor.

The slight recoil transmitted through the trigger and stock. The muzzle flash that blazed with enough force to blot out the red dot sight entirely.

All of it brought back old memories.

"The fuck, what the hell?!"

The enemy's voice, strained with fury, came through the gunpowder smoke. I ducked behind the wall at the same time. Dozens of lead rounds tore through the spot I'd been standing in a moment ago.

Looked like they weren't fully neutralized yet.

But my body remembered what to do. Instead of overthinking, I grabbed the last grenade, pulled the pin, and waited.

Then I let it go.

What did they think when they saw a grenade fly past the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ninety-degree wall and land right in front of them?

Not that I cared, of course.

—!

A now-familiar, heavy shockwave enveloped me from head to tail and radiated in every direction.

I swapped magazines. This time, I waited a bit longer.

Until the smoke cleared completely.

After a few moments, I peeked over the wall.

Two of them were completely dead. One was mere moments from dying, lying there quietly waiting for the end.

I couldn't tell if he lacked the strength to raise his gun, but the last survivor had his right hand pressed to his stomach, lying on the stairs, just staring at me.

Our eyes met.

"Seriously, man. How the hell do you wipe a full-gear squad of five in a minute? Like… whoa…"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"No, I mean, you're not even a pro… I've been playing this game for three years and I never imagined something like this could happen. Seriously…"

"…."

Bang.

I aimed between his eyes and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

I nudged the completely still body with my foot, rolling it over once on the spot.

Used the corpse to block the grenade that had rolled out.

A heavy tremor shook the entire staircase.

Fragments flew in all directions, striking the nanomachine barrier on my legs and tail before dissolving. I muttered quietly.

"Would've been better if you'd just thrown it yourself."

The right hand on his stomach, the grenade clutched inside it.

It might have been an effective way to take someone to the afterlife with you, but he'd moved his right hand too obviously… and more importantly, there were three things here to cover the grenade with.

I left the corpse, which had absorbed the full blast and been sent flying, and checked my remaining ammo out of habit.

I didn't have much left. Burning through two magazines on full-auto in seconds hurt a bit.

Still, considering it was the price for killing Polen, it was cheap. But at this point, without access to nearby ammo resupply points, every round was precious.

What should I do?

As I was mulling it over,

"Eugene, you okay!?"

"Yelling 'situation clear' that fast — pretty gutsy."

"Ah, well…."

Never mind.

We'd just been in a full-scale firefight, blown through several grenades, and now I was going to stress about this? I took a deep breath, savoring the thick gunpowder smoke that was finally spreading into the air. The smell of death filling my lungs was horribly familiar — but as always, I severed the associated emotions and treated it as nothing more than a duty.

Still, I couldn't help wondering how a guy who was at most a pointman had ended up leading an operation team after crossing over to this world. But I wasn't about to shirk the responsibility.

…Still, I suddenly miss Mr. Owens.

Meanwhile, as if she'd grown somewhat accustomed to it, the woman cautiously approached me after scanning the surroundings. Her face was full of questions.

But Harmony held them back for a moment and added carefully,

"…Should I keep watching the perimeter?"

"Yes."

It wasn't time to let our guard down yet.

I started searching the bodies. She kept watch on the entrance and began asking me things one by one.

"You got all five of them, right…?"

"Technically, you got two, I got three. No reinforcements, so don't worry."

"Ah…."

That didn't seem to be what she was actually trying to ask.

When I stayed silent, she spoke again.

"I don't really get what happened. Stuff was just… exploding from the opposite entrance, and there were screams, and gunshots, and ugh…."

"We'll debrief after we survive. I found something pretty good."

"Huh?"

With that, I carefully detached a grenade launcher that had miraculously survived the blast intact, along with four grenade pouches attached to its waist belt.

I activated the scanning function, ran my eyes over it, and transmitted the recognized weapon data to the team member through data pairing.

Harmony, who had been on watch, repeatedly shook her head as if she thought she was seeing things. I called her over.

"Wh-what is this?"

"A decent piece of equipment that'll solve our firepower shortage."

Milkor Mk.14 Mod.0 — a revolver-type six-shot grenade launcher.

Carefully attaching the pouches to her tactical rig, I added with a rare hint of a smile.

"Ready to become a pyromaniac?"