Chapter 225
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: End of April (12)
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A warning popped up on the PDA. Rare Navy news. On the 21st, during engagement with the Melville group, cruiser Bunker Hill and destroyers Stockdale and Gridley reported heavy casualties. Maritime blockade disrupted for the time being. Possibility of new variant landing. Exercise caution.
They'd given the sea monsters permanent hearing damage with depth charges, but the lighter-than-expected losses were a relief. Credit to the intact chain of command.
Still, no room for complacency. A crewless ship was just an empty hull. Three warships' patrol radius was at least a hundred kilometers. With the Navy already pushed to exhaustion for ages, doubts lingered on filling the gap.
“Sir. How about switching out for a bit? Meal time's long overdue.”
Winter hesitated briefly before accepting Morales' suggestion.
Warming combat rations by the fire, 'Alejandro' asked.
“Major, you got a girlfriend or anything?”
“Nope.”
Winter managed an awkward smile. Whether Excel's influence or not, the soldiers' banter had stuck to the same topic since earlier. Less love stories, more tall tales of derring-do. Conversations where everyone knew the bravado but played along for fun.
“Aww, come on. Guy like you must get all the attention... Even if not serious, you know, that kinda thing. Major saying zero? Total BS.”
Harper backed Alejandro's deadpan tease.
“No smoke without fire. Could be famous guy's curse, but the endless rumors 'bout your ladies? Gotta be something to it.”
“There isn't. What rumors you even hearing?”
“Oh, wanna hear 'em?”
“...I'll pass.”
Their impish grins said it all—no need to guess. “Major's ladies.” Public knew Winter only from DoD-released combat logs, but apparently that fueled enough fantasies for the fun-seekers.
Alejandro wouldn't quit.
“Hey, heard reinforcements coming from Fort Roberts. If there's any sweet, fiery girls, hook a brother up? No tiger Wonder Woman or witch, though.”
Tiger Wonder Woman? Winter recalled the comic Luke Merrill, the civilian pilot, had shown him. For some reason, Yura's image had shaped up like that. Hearing the same vibe nickname in unexpected places. Hanbyeol probably matched her rep spot-on.
Schultz, who'd been listening quietly, cut in.
“Alejandro. Asking for good-girl intros while packing that? Straight-up nuisance.”
“What're you on about? What's wrong with mine?”
“Listen up. Dead serious. Your 'precious'? Worth less than this supply pen. This bad boy's MIL-STD certified—sixteen pages of specs. Reader's Digest source.”
“Eat shit. Say it to my face after seeing it. Whip it out right here?”
Silly banter. Schultz seemed keen to prove he wasn't sweating it.
Screams and howls chilled the air.
Soldiers, shaking off tension, snapped to combat ready. Winter alone excepted. He sat calmly eating. Chewing the biscuits everyone called tasteless, sipping the murky blue “grape” drink, then soothing the gawking troops.
“Noisy means safe. Quiet's way riskier.”
Real attacks hit without warning. This feint screamed no all-out rush. Schultz asked.
“Get what you're saying, sir, but what about the survivors?”
“Probably fine. Let's hear more.”
America's recent wars stayed far from total conflict. Vets grasped Winter's drift quick. Faces soured. Sure enough, the scream-laced curses and yells dragged on. Mind games to rattle nerves.
“Looks like we'll need stims. Permission, sir?”
Normally operator's call, but protocol demanded asking now. As Harper lowered his barrel to inquire, Winter added a caveat.
“Try shifts for even a quick shut-eye first. If no dice, then pop 'em.”
Soldiers looked baffled. But vets seized any sleep chance. Smooth op? Hunt wrapped before day's end. Snags? Days of hour naps max. Stims wouldn't cut it solo.
Winter finished eating and swapped with reluctant Morales. Climbed the ladder to the walltop, but forest canopy slashed visibility hard. Wider view of nearby clearing was it. With “Combat Sense” and “Crisis Detection,” difference was academic anyway. Unless some beast dodged with “Aura Block.”
Track-specialized Stalkers had limited “Aura Block” at best. Nonexistent baseline, and Winter's experience said even upgrades fell short of perfect.
Might run into those hounds here. Decent time since Allamida first meetup—reinforcement variants wouldn't shock.
‘They've prepped plenty, one way or t'other.’
Long absence? Special variant ratios at play. Mediocre punch for “specials.” Lighter per-head than Tricksters or Grumbles, sure, but no such things if pure waste.
Boom—another giant tree crashed. Grumble's roar followed. Trickster couldn't spoof that pattern, apparently. Card that could kill if played late-game hidden. Winter hopped down from the wall. Abandoned build left scaffolding hugging inner side in spots. Signs of planned add-ons.
Past midnight, the forest hushed.
Sleepless squad gripped weapons, wary of the quiet.
As tension bled to fatigue, Winter—eyes on starlit shadows darker than night—whispered into the radio.
“Incoming. Get ready.”
The dog, dozing trustingly, caught scent and bayed at the moon. Schultz lashed its leash to his ankle—visible even in chaos. Banked horses pawed anxiously. Whirr-whirr-whirr—sporadic minigun motors. Six barrels on front-facing mount spun brief bursts. No instant fire on trigger; needed spin-up lag to rpm.
Simple probe?
Doubt they'd blindly charge killzone. As Winter pondered, a heavy drag-scrape echoed. Huh? Head tilt, then rearward glance. Not mere roadblock? Sigh. Radio again.
“Rear's on me. Hold front till I say.”
[Rear? What the hell, sir?]
No need reply.
Thud! Thud! Tree trunks slamming walltop. Solo trunk? Dicey climb for balance-wrecked variants. Paired? Game-changer. Spot matched scaffold exact. Trickster'd reconned insides pre-Winter.
Grumble roar way too close.
“Fuck.”
Radio crackled static, Alejandro's voice deflated.
Assault kicked off omnidirectional.
Shadows vaulted the wall. Queeak! Kyaaak! Front swarmed with rotting hosts, sure. Density low, though. Poor payoff for focused fire, but ignoring? No dice. Winter set 3-sec timers on paired plastic bombs, hurled at separate scaffolds. KABOOM! Supports buckled—platforms canted, collapsed. Living dead rained down.
Snagged Mk.777 rocket launcher and rocket bundle from airdrop crate, Winter bolted clearing-center. First-risers from one side charged berserk. Winter knelt back-to-them. Aimed weight-crushed horde under scaffold.
Three, two, one. Ear-ringing ignition—rear threats backblasted to mist. Dozens of torsos he'd zeroed biodegraded in thunder. One gut-spewing upper arced in. Still groping spawn-hunger at Winter. Boot to face snapped neck. Momentum-sprayed blood slicked his stance.
Dropped down—headlong chargers stacked neat in line. No pack-leader tumblealong. Winter swapped to anti-materiel rifle. Rolled pinless grenade flankward, hosed front semi-auto frenzy. Bone-free shots punched precise. Disable shots, not kills.
Krwaaak!
Plague vanguard spewed crimson. Rib-dodging APHE pierced lung, airburst next target. Two-plus per round downed. Leftover crawlers? No rush-threat. Time-gained Winter reloaded launcher on grimed tube. Backblast survivor close—bruised mug groaning. Crunch—stomped cervical, crosshaired remnant scaffold. Fire.
Flash and gale erupted. Rust-eaten platform and corpses pinwheeled airborne.
“Eat this, you shits!”
Morales bellowed, slewing minigun cone. RRRRRRIP—seamless thunder. Six-barrel spin spewed 100 rounds-per. Cherry-red muzzles sparked fireworks in the dark.
“Overheat! Watch it—don't wanna cook when she blows!”
Ammo glut bred spray-'n-pray against horde weight.
Front-only directive? Nah. Entrance push light—solo gunner handled. Grenadier just bridged reload gaps.
Dachshund whimpered amid it. Shivering piss on Schultz's leg. Frenzied Schultz oblivious, knee-fired shots and swaps nonstop. Horses bugged, but steady Excel pinned 'em. Safer perch, but one boot-stomped variant corpse sprawled. Lone plagues? Weaker than herded heavies.
Five-man tally triple-digits in a blink.
Short stubby HGL painted night-forest smoke and gore. Huddled variants birthed blood-fog bursts. Shrapnel stippled pallid hides red polka—oozing warp-blood fast.
Winter's serial “Throws” arced plastics wall-over, detonating. Wouldn't snap thick logs outright, but axis-wobble topples? Check.
‘Why not breach the wall?’
Confirm-snipes rifle, coup-de-grace pistol, Winter puzzled assault's short fury. Bunker paranoid-thick, yeah—but Grumble time could crack. Normal-sized fissure'd do for regulars.
“Whoa! Foes pulling back!”
Grenadier Alejandro whooped radio.
“Brief lock on sly bastard! Chase and waste it now!”
Morales' voice shook thrill.
“Nope. Holding till go-time.”
Watch-checked, Winter nixed the sergeant's pitch.
Grumble-preserve max? This raid no decisive strike. Tricksters ain't sloppy—killpile's green recruits, subpar avg. More aces tucked; pyrrhic “win” perfect lure to forest depths. Trap bait.
“Could wrap this quick...”
Radio murmurs of regret. Faded fast. CO faith.
Winter ordered squad reset. They'd take the bait—per plan.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#KakaoTalk - Rifle Slinging
Tunguska: Mangaka, you 27th Division alum?
Mangaka buddy: Yup.
Tunguska: Y'all ever sling rifle combat-style, strap only on the stock hook?
Mangaka buddy: 5th Company did. I for kicks. Quick-sights way smoother.
Tunguska: Thought no Korean units did but Marines...
Office drone: Only stock-side sling? Meaning?
Tunguska: Not split front/back—bunch rearward. US style, 1-point sling. Muzzle+stock hooks = 2-point. Add body strap = 3-point.
Office drone: Huh...
Mangaka buddy: 1-point on muzzle hook? Total fail lololol
Tunguska: Works tho?
Tunguska: Speedrun suicide.
Mangaka buddy: DoD says no thanks.
#Q&A
Q. UnlimitedOne: @UnmannedTurret... turret... cake is a lie...eup eup Does Winter feeling gov muscle more than ever mean his existence props up the regime? Or like, Fort Roberts too—every bad news, Winter drops good-news cover...
A. Yep. Past grind paying off.
Q. Crysis2: @So natural I just clocked it. Post-control-persona self-acquisition, whatcha got next?
A. Good stuff incoming. Real good.
Q. Carpice: @Governor...Skynet next? Control-persona self-acq sounds legit lol Or nah?
A. Nah, what's next? Beats me.
Q. BlueCrystal: @“Disadvantage for soldiers”—get the bonfire bit for soldiers/dog, but fuzzy—explain pls?
A. Rumen: Disadvantage means noise/effort from dog care~
Q. LunarKarma: @MC in medium infantry gear—minigun one-hand spray? Low-rate barehanded ok? Curious.
A. Per lore, Centurion suit has joint locks. Winter or not, low-rate feasible.
Q. Ronap: @Sometimes wonder if Winter started in China/Europe etc.
A. Inertia hits startpoints like tech. Knowledge=power, gotta hide... Nah, that's Blood Raven yoinking my stash. Anyway, knowledge=power. China's nightmare difficulty esp.
Q. BlitZkrieG: @Author, forever together?
A. Nah. Wanna wrap quick. Next work? No clue.