Chapter 111
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Premonition, San Ardo Oil Field (2)
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The mutants employed basic ambushes and cover. Even beast-level intelligence in a pack was a headache for those facing them. Because the cover objects were filled with oil. Not only facility damage, but fire hazards as well.
That meant more opportunities for the heavy infantry to shine. Even if they themselves didn't like it.
Winter led Yura's squad into the second facility.
The interior had no lighting whatsoever, save for sunlight streaming through windows and vents. Winter raised his visor. Immediately, a strong volatile smell hit him. Crude oil was leaking from somewhere in the facility.
‘It’d be hard to set it off with gunfire... but you never know.’
There was also the stench of rotting flesh. More than one, at this rate. Winter lowered and locked his visor, then signaled a warning to the rear with hand signs. Caution on shooting, and multiple expected enemies. The squad members spread out to positions where they could cover each other, establishing fields of fire clear of pipes or equipment.
The first enemy came unexpectedly from the front. A lean body packed with muscle. On the verge of becoming an enhanced variant. A brief standoff. The non-human jerked its head repeatedly, chattering its teeth. As if testing their response.
[Captain!]
Someone's shouted warning. Winter swung the crowbar overhead. At the peak, something snagged. Blood poured down. He followed through, and the variant caught on the pry bar was smashed heavily aside. It had dropped from the pipes. Belatedly, tatatang! Stray gunfire. Covering fire.
‘One draws attention, while another pounces?’
The one that had drawn their gaze charged. Winter charged too. As the distance closed to zero, they collided shoulder-first. Thud! A jolt that shook his entire body. Winter was testing the heavy infantry combat style, and the result was as expected. The variant was flung back unilaterally. Winter pursued for three steps and brought the crowbar down.
Clang! Between decayed thighs, concrete shattered, sparks flying noisily. It stuck.
‘Too slow.’
If his body weren't so heavy. Winter released both his regret and the crowbar, advancing. He grabbed the hair of the variant flipping over. Yanking hard, not just hair but scalp peeled off. Due to inflammation? The blood-slicked skull was exposed. From the impact, the variant collapsed at the boy's feet. Not what he intended. Winter raised his fist.
Boom! A crack in the skull visible to the naked eye. Boom! Good to hit the fractured spot again. Boom! The variant foamed at the mouth, clinging to the boy's waist. Boom! A monster straining to bite and topple a human. Boom! Its weight made it impossible. Boom! On the verge of the bones caving in. Boom!
The last one sounded different. Winter blocked a crowbar swung from behind with his wrist. Striking the inner side of the incoming blade. Before it could slip free, he seized it with his other hand. A ensuing test of strength. The ghoul gripping the handle bared its teeth.
Multiple variants climbed over the pipes. The squad members fired aimed shots from pre-secured positions. But one person was pounced on. Head crushed first, toppled, unable to bear its own weight plus the variant's.
[Aaagh!]
A scream like a death rattle.
‘If only they stayed a bit calmer.’
Not as urgent as the scream suggested. Ordinary variants couldn't dismantle the protective suits. Winter shoved off the two clinging to him first.
The ghoul that had snatched the crowbar was the problem. A beta ghoul at that. Immense strength. The one gripping his waist could no longer exert force, but its mere attachment hindered Winter. Hard to use his lower body and core.
A dogfight. The beast using a tool did so clumsily. Block full swings, and that was it. One hand sufficed for parrying. Trusting the durability he'd experienced so far, ignoring minor battering, Winter seized the ghoul's face.
It thrashed its head wildly, making it difficult. It savagely bit at the pushing hand. True to enhanced kind, the pressure was considerable. Bites left scratches each time.
No need to rush. Defense was solid. Winter kept trying. Then finally, squelch! Thumb pierced an eye. Blood flowed from the sunken eyelid.
“Kwaaaack! Grrr! Kkakaak!”
The ghoul barked like a mad dog. A sound fitting such a brawl.
The second eye was easy. Almost groping, he inserted pinky and below into the existing hole to anchor, shifting thumb to the remaining eye. Slick bone under fingertips. Thumb pressure once more. Fail. Again, fail. Third time, success.
The blinded ghoul was no longer a threat. He drew his greatsword, driving it deep into the eye socket. It stuck oddly, hard to pull free. Blood-slicked hand slipped too. Winter throttled the remaining variant's neck with his left arm. Then hammered down repeatedly with his right fist. Monotonous like hammering an anvil. Fist hard like a hammer. The ballistic material's weight and rigidity made it a weapon in itself.
Crack! Finally, the breaking sound. The grip on his waist vanished.
Yura's squad was wrapping up combat too. As squad leader, Yura remained the calmest.
Winter thought: Stress training works. Training to distinguish and shoot target types while cursed at and shoved. Closest to real combat among shooting drills. Only Yura had received one-on-one instruction from Winter.
She was armed with a shotgun capable of full-auto. Right before Winter's eyes, she fired twenty rounds straight, sweeping the variants. Precisely ranged shots. Walls and floors shattered wildly, but no equipment was touched.
Winter assisted with pistol fire. Faster and simpler than the machine gun. Bang, bang! The sliding rack spat short casings with a clack. Recoil barely felt. Thanks to the suit's weight again.
“Everyone okay? Report status.”
Winter's words. Sobbing hitches flowed over the radio net. Fewer than half responded properly. He posted those at alert, consoling the rest one by one. Not their fault. All rookies. Lacking combat experience. Heavy infantry roles were normally for veterans.
Yet orders from Blockade Command deployed refugee-origin regular troops.
The role of Fort Roberts garrison in Operation Clear Liberation wasn't just supply lines.
[Captain, you okay?]
Yura's voice, concerned for her small leader. But she was far from okay. Trembling unmasked by the thick suit. Her aiming muzzle unsteady.
Winter gave them a brief rest. At least they needed to aim.
Resumed search shortly after. Fortunately, only one ambush. Remaining facility sections were littered with oily footprints but otherwise silent.
Similar processes repeated thereafter. Securing the oil field zone cost one casualty. A heavy infantryman who forgot to lock his visor had his face bitten. He sobbed and suicided.
Lt. Col. Capston called Winter.
“Good work. Looks like you threw yourself in again.”
He eyed Winter's suit caked in blood and flesh.
“How's operating that suit firsthand?”
The perfunctory praise led straight to this question. Eager for the boy officer's evaluation of the new protective suit. As field commander, the colonel had to file Centurion operation reports. Winter started with personal impressions.
“Great gear, solid defense, but it doesn't suit me.”
“Why?”
“If I'd worn this in Santa Maria, I'd probably be dead.”
Clear example, so the colonel nodded.
The suit dulled Winter's strengths. Fast precise shooting, high-speed movement in hazards, aggressive hit-and-run. Underpinning “Personal Firearms Proficiency” and “Movement” were heavily impacted by the suit's weight and bulk.
‘Maybe invest in “Close Combat’?’
Long delayed skill investment left Winter many options. But higher skill grades had fewer prior acquisitions. Thus scant Talent Advantage. Costs skyrocketed.
Winter shelved the thought. Col. Capston waited.
“The rest you probably guess...”
He prefaced, eyed the still impassive colonel, then continued.
“Useful in obstacle-heavy fights, otherwise not much point, I think. Few will trust defense to hold against overwhelming foes. Even with ten million in Operation Clear Liberation, most are rookies anyway.”
“Still, psychological effect's worth expecting. How reassuring to be perfectly safe from enemy attacks. As you say, mostly rookies.”
Winter countered negatively.
“Well... Grumbles kill regardless. Smart ones use tools too.”
Quick to tire, slow feet. Defense only blocks unarmed beta ghouls. If a Grumble appeared, Winter planned to ditch the suit first. Tricksters unknown. Suit insulated, but too slow to chase anyway.
‘Pre-recon confirmed no special variants.’
Heavy infantry deployed inside oil field, ample warning time from outer perimeter guards.
“In short.”
Col. Capston said.
“Useless for types like you, iffy for the unskilled. Viable environments limited to urban-like. Even then, needs heavy firepower support against Grumbles... Obvious, really.”
“Feasible?”
Winter fired multiple questions. Ten million too vast for ample support. Prep time too short. Shortages everywhere. Heavy infantry no exception. Even transport vehicles enough? Useless without.
“No idea. Higher-ups have plans.”
The colonel looked skyward. Dozens of transports streamed in. Air-dropping modular building materials. Winter recalled the journal.
‘Transports already short.’
Even contaminated zone resupply strained capacity. Showed Blockade Command's high regard for this oil field. But little stockpiling time. US military guzzled fuel. Daily production supply too tight. Even with other routes.
“Upcoming election influence, right?”
At Winter's question, Col. Capston frowned lightly.
“Inevitable thought, but don't say it elsewhere.”
Commander's role was quelling worries, not stoking them.
Anyway, over ten million troops. Numbers to bulldoze ordinary shortages. Unprecedented even across twenty-six prior worldviews.
Barring anomalies, failure hard to foresee. No earthquakes, surely.
Winter just worried about the process.