Beasts of the Tropics (11)
The unidentified enemies were still swelling in numbers even now. But to my eyes, the difference in forces was manageable enough to take on. In this environment where visibility was limited and senses disrupted, our sightlines were narrower than outside, yet the Golden Age's Eye still pierced a three-hundred-meter radius, granting me and my crew a massive tactical edge. And as a sniper myself, I was an asymmetrical force capable of punching through hundreds of leaves for a clean shot.
Just as a single sniper could pin down an entire division, my sniper rounds were the means to broadly slow the enemy's advance.
Plip, plip. Suddenly, the tropical downpour hissed down—shwaaaa. Thick raindrops battered the broad leaves of the deciduous trees and palms, creating a deafening racket. The sun was peeking at the horizon, so it was a short burst at most twenty minutes long.
Knowing I wouldn't fall back, Kyung-tae spoke up before contact, addressing my position first.
"Hyungnim, you and noona should climb that tree over there for spotting, sniping, and overall situation control. That'd be best. I'll handle the detailed commands."
Spotting meant confirming enemy positions and relaying them to friendlies. Typically paired with a sniper, the spotter calculated wind direction and strength, target distance, bullet drop, and so on. But my version of spotting was literal enemy detection—a ground-based early warning system.
Higher ground was always better for sniping or spotting. So the spot Kyung-tae pointed to was that very awakened tree where the tiger had hidden.
"What do you think?"
He asked again, and I nodded lightly.
"Got it. Watch yourself—no injuries."
"Yep."
"If anyone gets hurt, bring 'em back right away. Losing even one is a huge loss."
"Understood."
Just as the man-eating tiger had climbed a mana-infused tree to conceal its mana field, I too could hide my presence and cast limited magic at restrained power. For instance, disguising it as the tree's reflexive water giant incantation, or using Life from a blind spot in the canopy.
I hauled the ammo crate the porters had carried up to the canopy's center. Amid the thick branches splaying out in all directions, the hollow where the beast had lain offered ample space for two.
The interpreter Krut stayed with Kyung-tae nearby. By now, the gap between us and the enemy had narrowed to under a hundred meters. I could've targeted their vanguard and pulled the trigger anytime.
But if I did, I'd end up the only one firing for minutes, leaving me exposed. Enemies spotting my shots would crawl the remaining dozens of meters like grubs to reach our lines.
Thus, my first shot could wait until engagement began. Ideally, I'd down their drones the moment the impatient foes closed in—but the pounding rain made flight impossible, turning it into foul weather.
We watched their obvious approach for a moment. Our forward herders only barely spotted the vanguard when the gap shrank to under thirty meters.
"Tembak sesuka hati!"
Kakakakang! The first gunshot finally echoed. Amid the harsh rain, metallic clamor reverberated. Then came the horizontal hail of armor-piercing rounds slicing through the waterfall-like deluge.
The herders' main arms were worn Italian BM59 autos smuggled from the military. Stock-scarred wooden butts screamed end-of-life, but at dozens of meters, accuracy didn't matter. As long as they could hose awakened beasts or ability users with rapid fire, it was enough.
Kwaang! Raindrops near the muzzle shivered from the shockwave. The next instant, my target's forehead exploded in crimson.
The 0.7-inch Nitro Express was overkill for humans, delivering that much shock to witnesses. Each round pulverized half a head in brutal violence. Before the stunned surroundings could react, I ended another life in a burst.
Pale terror spread from every shattered skull. That fear was my ace right now. Evenly popping heads across the front slashed their effective firepower.
Turtled enemies now poked only muzzles from cover, spraying blindly.
Kwang! At the end of my sightline, fingers squeezing triple-tap from atop cover snapped off. The rifle spewing our way shattered into parts. The fingerless fool froze blankly for seconds, then clutched his bloody hand, wailing spit and tears.
I snipped every exposed finger that entered my view, turning their fire even more defensive and erratic. Like scholars and thugs had swapped places.
Vietnam all over again.
In Vietnam's jungles, it took the U.S. an average of 25,000 live rounds to kill one Viet Cong. But snipers needed just 1.3. 25,000 to 1.3. The gap between these foes and me was far wider.
Occasional bold ones relied on ultra-high-molecular polyethylene shields, but even full-body plates couldn't cover every angle. Kyung-tae and his crew mopped them up with focused fire—no need for my heavy rounds.
"Jangan mundur, maju terus! Ke muka! Ke muka!"
An officer-grade by gear shoved his muzzle at terrified underlings, threatening them forward. Close enough to hear his screams, but obstacles blocked clean headshots. Never seen a solid outfit treat grunts like that.
While steadily picking other targets, I waited. The instant a helmet edge peeked, I fired.
Kwaang! Sparks flew. The supersonic heavy slug's punch spun his head even grazing the helmet corner. Unbraced, he staggered—exposing more skull. I rammed the follow-up.
Kang! A ring and more sharp metallic sparks. The full-coverage helmet, thick enough for AP from a DMR, dented like hammer-struck, forcing ominous nosebleeds from its owner. Skull-jolted, he lost balance, crawling beast-like on all fours.
Click. The chamber ejected a casing amid gunsmoke. Rechambered, I double-tapped his torso.
Each blunt nose tore flesh and cracked bone. The beast shrieked in agony. His above-average awakened armor only amplified the pain. Perfect for exemplary cruelty.
Dirt erupted roughly. Desperately crawling to cover, he flinched at the ground-busting shot ahead, sobbing and reversing course.
Panic-stricken, the beast reached for his sheltered minions.
"Tolong! Tolong!"
Help, right? I burst his outstretched hand. Another scream. Blood washed by rain revealed jagged bone. The dangling pinky seemed ready to drop.
Huddled underlings ignored their caged superior, eyes wide in fear. Hot tropical rain made armor torment—even for awakened. His protected head and torso only, limbs exposed. Easy killshot, but I had no intent to end him.
Final shot severed his right Achilles. Then I ignored the beast.
Scream like a living speaker, why don't you.
His rank's voice would burden the chain of command with survival instincts. Via radio, Kyung-tae got steady updates from me. Judging spare manpower, he pulled from defense to bolster reserves. Foes had untapped reserves too—for their decisive charge, we needed counterpunchers.
Meanwhile, some enemies focused solely on non-combat tasks since fighting started.
Pak! An ability user's hurled stone snapped a thick awakened tree's side branch. The tree gathered mist and shook nearby puddles in response—the thrower low-crawled to slap on a bright blue marker. No nails; waterproof adhesive to avoid further agitation. Eye-catching size bore today's date. Color signaled magic type.
Pathfinding.
They were marking ingress routes for their assault team. Safe trees, max speed, breakthrough maximized.
Enemy reserves, playing cautious, entered as rain tapered.
Leading: a heavy-armored combat elephant with a Soviet ZPU-4 quad AA gun on its back.
Paaauuuu! The plated beast's roar shook the drenched forest. No joke—nearby leaves quivered, water droplets pattering down. Fresh from the womb heavier than geared humans, each step rumbled like mini-quakes.
Trained on the markers, it uprooted a markerless palm and hurled it, crashing the field. Even my forewarned crew paused at the visual shock. 21st-century war elephant.
Who could've imagined pre-magic?
The gunner atop bellowed with his mount.
"Allahu Akbarrrrrr!"
Kwakwakwakwa! The quad spat fire, noise skyrocketing beyond prior levels. That old AA gun's barrage could've suppressed us wide.
But.
Kakakakak! My and Suyeon's snipes, plus Kyung-tae's near-miraculous burst, crumpled all four feed ports—instant ammo cutoff. Penalty for dragging an unshielded AA gun into knife-range jungle.
Mooks half-exposed in momentum shriveled as heads popped in sequence.
The elephant gunner kicked the hopper in frustration, trying to fix the feed.
"Sial! Sial! Rongsokan sial ini!"
Even so, its circuit screamed reinforcement coefficient over 10—a living weapon of destruction. Small-caliber rifles bounced off bare hide; armored, even my Nitro barely scratched.
Raging gunner yanked Kevlar reins, signaling. Veins pumped with stimulants, the elephant flared—stomping, ears pinned, trunk curled high.
Teacher's aristocratic hunt memories flashed: charge incoming.