Reverse Subversion: The Soldiers' Feigned Death Struggle (Part 1)
Jeracle side—
From the start, I, who am not human, have no intention whatsoever of enjoying human holidays.
Instead, I plan to exploit the psychology of these fools who dare challenge me, possessing only human intelligence and flesh.
"Ansoloc White."
"Yes, Minister."
"From now on, I'm going to lock the ID on every weapon issued to militaries worldwide for three hours. Of course, the Russian nationalists will attack using weapons made with the Mantra of the Strange Zombies, but being corrupted solely by that Mantra's influence means they've invested their own wills entirely into the greater scheme."
"How is that possible?"
"The Strange Zombies' goal is to trigger an eternal recurrence rotation using the massive flow of Mantra—a kind of comatose state that plunges everything into utter void, drawing on the nihilistic energy within their hive mind."
"Like the eternal recurrence in Friedrich Nietzsche's passive nihilism."
"Exactly. To them, that's paradise. One might even say Ivan Reofle Petrovsky's ideology resembles it— not that the ruling doctrine matters, just domination itself."
"Brainless idiots who can't even think for themselves will blindly follow any fanaticism spewed at them; it's their fate. Such ideological hypnosis boils down to obsession with material abundance, flagrantly violating the imperative to face the horrific truths of the future with courage, accept them boldly, overcome them, and forge one's will through. They started as failures who trained in what they were good at mentally or thought for themselves, only to flop entirely—cowards hiding in material comforts."
"Precisely. Their desires serve to overpower reason. Their innate slyness only looks good because there are so many of them. The common threads in great figures prove ordinary people's thinking levels have always fluctuated predictably. And that's why, during this Christmas period, they won't attack outright but launch a major reconnaissance instead. With ID locks rendering weapons unusable, they can't risk full war—so grasping their overall flow by mimicking civilian panic gives ample pretext for a surprise assault, given we can't ignore their movements entirely."
"Then what should I do?"
"The key is New Year's celebrations follow soon after Christmas. Publicize repelling their offensive spectacularly, breeding complacency. At worst, dismiss remnants as stragglers or mock their poor situational awareness."
"I see."
"So, lead them yourself to lure the enemy in deep, dispel all suspicion, foster baseless overconfidence, and make them target New Year's thoroughly. They'll regret skimping on real forces for mere recon, assuming our mental defenses are lax despite material ones. Naturally, oblivious to our surveillance, they'll fancy they've gleaned vital intel and prepare meticulously for a New Year's push."
"All while utterly unaware they're being watched every step."
"Yes. And for perfect deception, I'll soon devise with Joint Chiefs Chairman Ernest Robe, Army Chief of Staff Kenneth McNairy, Navy Chief of Staff Quincy Ivory, and Air Force Chief of Staff Macbeth Bradley a plan to assault the immaterial realm hiding antimatter bombs—and execute it."
"Even if they detect that, isolate their consciousnesses into the immaterial realm successfully, and defend perfectly, they're not truly strong."
"Right. Prepare now. They'll strike at the event's peak, when security seems tightest—exploiting the perceived gap."
"Indeed. A flaw at the strictest moment feels authentic, too tempting to ignore even if suspected as a trap. And realizing it's no immediate trap will inflate their egos automatically."
I sent Ansoloc White off like that.
Three hours later, conference room.
"Good of you all to come. Now, let's discuss recovering those dangerous antimatter bombs en masse."
"Yes, Minister."
As discussions began, Russian nationalist infiltrators slipped nearby as predicted.
I telepathed Ansoloc White.
'How's the situation with those bastards?'
'Minister, they've penetrated deep. We've intentionally focused defenses on civilians, but is this really okay?'
'Of course. The operation's point is to plant hubris in them. It'll even prompt their commanders to curb overambition, citing trap risks.'
'Ah, right. Still, succeeding in deep infiltration alone warrants major propaganda, no? What if camp morale drops, demanding excessive explanations?'
'Make the meeting content harmless enough for them to overhear. And eliminate every straggler without fail.'
'Understood.'
Ansoloc side—
Considering the Minister's superhuman abilities and intellect, it's just worry.
But the risk of them propagandizing even a shred of infiltration evidence looms large, fueling endless Russian nationalist agitation.
'At least they know not to rush in fighting now. Can't have stray bullets hitting our high commanders.'
My rifle, as you know, fires high-frequency guided rounds controllable via my psionic currents.
At 13mm caliber, linked with my powers, it channels emotions, reason, and mental force through conduction, convection, and radiation—manipulating Ether flows and Phlogiston's mass— but only with precise emotional control and extreme bodily flexibility.
Without my designated psionic currents, it won't fire at all.
I telepathed my subordinates.
'Russian nationalists have infiltrated empty barracks around the conference room, exploiting our civilian-focused defenses. Report positions.'
'Still searching, sir. Thanks to your prior warnings, we're tailing each group with cloaking tech, guard drones—no issues.'
'Good. No engagements yet, and all enemies visible?'
'Yes.'
'Then let a few escape—optimal. Engage. If first guided shots fail, report instantly; I'll inform the Minister. Follow with drone strikes. Suicide runs authorized if needed.'
'Understood.'
Engagement erupted immediately.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tang!
Shoooooooom!
Kwaaaang!
Thankfully, no decoys this time.
Had there been, they'd have flown inert; I aimed precisely, boosting spin like rifling—results were enhanced power, perfect explosions.
"Gaaaaaaaah!!!!"
Tat-tat-tat-tang!
I unleashed relentless directed fire.
"Kaaaak!!! Fight back!!"
Click.
Click.
"Huh?!"
"The... gun won't fire!!!"
Click.
Click.
Click.
Thud-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
"Uwaaaaaak!!!!"
Thanks to the Minister's ID lock, Russian nationalists couldn't fire a shot.
Overwhelmed by our firepower and drones, they died one-shot without spotting our cloaks.
But outnumbered as we were, even with overwhelming advantage, rounding them up instantly was impossible—determined flight made pursuit tough.
'Track retreating enemies. Press hard, mimicking desperate intel hunts—no time for doubts or rearming. Attack to annihilate. Fire maximally to feign random escapes.'
'Yes, Commander!!!'