The Wolf, the Snake, and the Dog

[... Commander Absaik, the Southern Legion is stirring. From their recent movements, their next step will undoubtedly be to push south, taking Wolf State first, then Snake State!] [Although Wolf State and Snake State have submitted to us in name, the local factions are deeply entrenched, and many nobles form the core base of the Xilan Royal Court. If the Legion captures those two territories, not only will we be caught in a pincer attack, but Leopard State and Lowell State to the east will also be plunged into mortal peril!] [For the State of Bolo, and for you, Supreme Commander, I am willing to go personally to Wolf State and Snake State to resist the Legion.] [This journey is solely in service of the greater good. Your Excellency need not urge me to stay!] Inside the office of the Supreme Commander's headquarters. Sitting behind his desk, Absaik read the letter from start to finish. Suddenly, he cursed aloud and slammed the paper hard onto the desk. "Slippery bastard!" The letter had been written by Shahrukh—the Horse King, who had put on that two-man show with him in the palace hall that day. Since the State of Bolo had been founded jointly by the four kings, Absaik had appointed the other three—the Horse King, the Tiger King, and the Leopard King—as Grand Commissioners, while other minor kings who had sensibly switched allegiance later on were made commissioners. Yet not one of those three Grand Commissioners was worth a damn. Before the fighting even started, two had fled, while the third had sent his family to Golden Gallon Port and moved himself right next to an airfield. Still fuming, Absaik grumbled another curse. "... 'Solely in service of the greater good,' my ass! Hah, pretending to repair the road while sneaking across the bridge behind my back!" Only a ghost would believe the Legion was going south right now! Anyone with half a brain could see their next target had to be Ox State—specifically, Tiandu in Ox State! The Southern Legion was far from a monolith itself; there was bound to be fierce rivalry between its myriad commanders. According to frontline battle reports, Myriad Commander Otley of the northern line had already launched an assault from Sulak County toward Dog State. They were practically racing their own comrades to see who could advance faster. So why was it that on his own side, all he had around him were shirkers and opportunists playing cheap tricks? Absaik shook his head in helpless frustration. He could only sigh inwardly and resign himself to playing the tough guy until the bitter end. Truth be told, he hardly had the right to judge others. Was he not an opportunist himself? In the entire Heavenly King Army, the only genuinely simple, honest fool had probably been Yanush—and he was already dead and cold. The guards flanking the room exchanged uncertain glances, not knowing why the Supreme Commander was so furious, yet not daring to ask. Just then, another subordinate entered, saluted smartly, and reported, "... Sir, the Education Commissioner requests a meeting with you. He says he wants to discuss public education at the meeting." In no mood for such trivia, Absaik waved his hand dismissively. "I'm not going. No time! His budget's already been approved—tell him to figure it out himself. Doesn't he see what time it is? The Legion is about to march on Tiandu, and he expects me to care about his nonsense?" The subordinate hesitated, keeping his head lowered as he spoke. "But... what he wants to discuss with you is the budget." Hearing the word 'budget' only made Absaik more irritated. "Tell him that's all he gets! He should count himself lucky I haven't docked it. Take it or leave it!" Those intellectuals really lacked any sense of situational awareness. His grunts on the front lines didn't even have matching underwear, and this guy was whining about a shortage of desks and books. Didn't the man stop to think: if Absaik actually approved their funding, what would the soldiers think? No desks? No textbooks? Then sit on the dirt and read! Write on the ground! They should be thanking their lucky stars they hadn't been shoved into the trenches. Of course, Absaik only kept such thoughts to himself. He couldn't actually say that to the Education Commissioner. Those scholars had venomous tongues; if it came to a war of words, he might not even win. The subordinate nodded respectfully, turned, and hurried away. "Understood..." Before long, footsteps sounded from outside again. Just as the irritated Absaik was about to lose his temper, he saw the two Alliance representatives walking in. Instantly, like a magician changing props, his face shifted to a warm, genial expression. "What pleasant wind blows the two of you here?" Farsighted Eagle skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point. "It's about reinforcements... Our Death Corps has arrived at Golden Gallon Port. Including subsequent waves, there will be over ten thousand personnel in total. Since their operational theater is primarily in Ox State to conduct defensive counterattack missions, they'd like your side to assign several officers to assist them." Absaik was overjoyed and immediately replied, "That's easy enough! I'll assign a myriad commander to assist you right away!" Farsighted Eagle continued, "There's no need for someone of that rank. Ideally, it should be frontline or second-line officers who are thoroughly familiar with the local terrain and battlefield conditions. We will teach you some guerrilla warfare tactics... so try to pick a good number of people, around a hundred or so." With the State of Bolo's current military strength, holding the line purely through conventional trench warfare was practically impossible; their only option was guerrilla fighting. After discussing it on the forum, several corps commanders had decided to have Brother Edge teach them. Having an experienced mentor was far better than making them learn with their lives. Absaik agreed on the spot. "No problem! We have plenty of officers who pulled back from the front! I'll hand them over to you!" Though he agreed readily, he had his own calculations. Guerrilla warfare was bound to inflict heavy casualties, so he certainly wouldn't use his personal core troops. Most of the officers who had retreated from the front were Yudono's former subordinates. Since they had lost Lion City, they might as well redeem themselves through service. Farsighted Eagle didn't care where the assigned officers had been pulled back from, nor did he care about Absaik's petty schemes. To the Alliance, none of that mattered, as long as they had actual frontline experience. Compared to Yanush, who had said one thing to their faces and done another behind their backs while treating people like gullible fools, this fellow's cooperative attitude was quite satisfactory. It wasn't just the guys on the forum who wanted to lend a hand; Farsighted Eagle himself wanted to pull him along. If the State of Bolo could be stabilized, that would be four million square kilometers of wasteland they wouldn't have to worry about. Though penniless, devoid of technology, and lacking education, these people possessed the potential to become part of the force driving the wasteland into a new era. Just like the survivors of the South Sea Alliance. "... By the way, what had you so worked up just now?" "Ah! It's all because of poverty. Pardon my disgraceful display before you two." Absaik let out a long sigh and launched into his well-practiced lamentations of hardship, wearing a pained expression. "Wutuo left behind so little money. We had to issue IOUs just to buy uniforms for the troops, not to mention weapons, ammunition, and transport trucks for logistics. On top of that, the Agricultural Commissioner is hounding me for tractors and fertilizer, and the Industrial Commissioner wants steel converters and coal furnaces. Can I really refuse them? But the moment I emptied my pockets, the Education Commissioner came knocking about a shortage of textbooks... What can I do? I could print banknotes, but you guys won't accept them. I had no choice but to send him away." The moment Eagle heard him crying poor again, he shut his mouth tight. The pocket money he carried was nowhere near enough to plug that sinkhole. The Alliance wouldn't fund it either. It was an entirely different order of magnitude; perhaps only Ideal City could offer real aid. Old Stick cleared his throat and chimed in. "... Let's keep things straight. It's not that we refuse your paper money; it's the Golden Gallon Port Bank that doesn't accept it. That's their legal right, and we can't force them. As for you lot, wouldn't things be easier if you took fewer concubines?" Absaik gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "Hah, how much could a few concubines cost? Besides, that isn't spent from the national treasury. Whether saved or not, it wouldn't end up in public funds anyway—now that's keeping things straight. Furthermore, even if I marry fewer, can I stop my subordinates from doing it?" He had never been as lustful as Yanush, so much so that rumors circulated in the army claiming he was impotent, that his equipment had been ruined in battle. When he first heard that rumor, his nose had nearly turned crooked with rage, and he had wanted the internal affairs bureau to hunt down the culprit. Of course, he had only entertained the thought; he wasn't going to execute an entire household just because someone badmouthed him. Too many people cursed him, even within the military. If he killed everyone who spoke ill of him, he'd be left a general without an army. That said, the Alliance brother's remark gave him an idea. Absaik mused that in the future, anyone taking a second wife ought to pay a tax. A third or fourth should incur progressive multipliers. That would yield a sizable sum of revenue! After all, the people wealthy enough to take three or four wives weren't the rank-and-file grunts, but the old landowning nobility. When the day came that they could no longer afford extra wives, he would issue a decree banning the decadent custom altogether, which would significantly reduce resistance to future reforms. "Watch your mouth," Farsighted Eagle glared at Old Stick, who offered an apologetic grin and kept silent. Seeing Old Stick shut up, Eagle turned back to Absaik, speaking in a more measured tone. "Take things one step at a time; there's no need to rush. Once the Southern Legion is driven off, you'll have plenty of time to develop. Look at Laxi—he seized the opportunities presented by the end of the civil war in the Southern Sea and the Battle of the Torch, and Mammoth Country's economy took off immediately. We're currently building a space elevator; you'll have similar opportunities." Perhaps having spent so much time around Ah Guang, he had unwittingly picked up the art of painting grand visions. Absaik swallowed the bait eagerly, nodding his head like a pestle with a delighted expression. "I stand enlightened! I will engrave your words upon my heart, sir!" Seeing his obedient demeanor, Eagle smiled and waved his hand. "You flatter me, you flatter me." Since he wasn't the Administrator and flattery brought him no benefits, he didn't bother with excessive modesty. With business concluded, and fearing the man might ask for money, Eagle pulled Old Stick along and made a swift exit. His worries were entirely unfounded. Having interacted for so long, Absaik already knew Eagle had no money to offer, which was why he hadn't brought it up in the first place. He had merely complained out of habit, wanting to show that he was unlike the foolish, extravagant Wutuo. The moment the Alliance representatives left, his expression snapped back to its usual arrogant, imposing posture. Just then, another knock sounded, and the subordinate who had just left re-entered. Absaik frowned with impatience. "Don't bother me about the Education Commissioner. The Alliance representatives just walked out the door; tell him to ask the Alliance for money." The subordinate whispered, "But... Mr. Kabaha is already outside the door." Absaik waved dismissively. "I won't see him." Noticing the subordinate lingering, he snapped, "What else?" The young officer nodded immediately. "The president of the Family Association also requests an audience." The Family Association... Absaik furrowed his brow, recalling that the man was named Zayed. Quite a coincidence. The veterans of the Heavenly King Army hailed from West Sail Port, and so did the Family Association; they could be considered products of the same origin. Only, the Family Association had lacked their good fortune, kicking an iron plate. Not only had their uprising failed, but they had also been purged by the Legion's regular forces, with rumors that over a thousand people were executed. Yet precisely because of that incident, Golden Gallon Port's *Survivor Daily* had expressed considerable sympathy for their plight, even dedicating an entire feature to the Family Association and its president. In that article, Zayed had explicitly stated that he was an admirer of Absaik, claiming that it was witnessing the reformists' noble deeds that inspired him to leave Dawn City and return home to do something for his suffering fellow survivors. Regrettably, his talents were limited, bringing hardship upon those who followed him. It was as high a compliment as one could offer, yet humble to a fault, placing himself firmly a notch below Absaik. He had yielded the crown of success to the true victor while willingly donning the label of the 'failure.' That was what had caught Absaik's attention—this man was clever. And very likely the same kind of clever as himself. To project an image of open-mindedness and magnanimity, as well as to curry favor with the populace of Golden Gallon Port, Absaik had adopted a welcoming posture. After meeting Laxi of Mammoth Country, he had granted an audience to this 'admirer' of his. It had been a purely courtesy meeting. And after meeting him, Absaik had confirmed his suspicions—the man was indeed cut from the same cloth, an opportunistic schemer skilled at exploiting circumstances. Such a person worshipped no one, held no genuine convictions, and wouldn't even believe the words coming out of his own mouth, let alone revere Absaik. As for why Absaik was so certain, it was because he was precisely that kind of person himself, surrounded by people of identical nature. The so-called admiration was nothing more than sycophantic flattery. And that was precisely the kind of person he despised most. After all, what people detested most was not dissenters or outright opponents, but those who 'looked like them without truly being them.' Much like an instinctive aversion toward one's own clone. Once he realized that, Absaik lost all interest, casting him aside after using him, merely instructing internal affairs to keep an eye on him without further follow-up. He could afford to ignore those who cursed him. Many of them missed the mark entirely with their insults, merely showcasing their own foolishness. Yet he found it difficult not to feel wary of this man. This did not contradict his disregard for the fellow. After all, the man was too weak. So weak that neither he nor his 'family' could even be considered a significant force. There was no need to stoop to dealing with an ant, which would only give the intellectuals something to gossip about. By contrast, the petty nobles who possessed knowledge were more deserving of his serious attention. "What does he want with me?" A trace of contempt involuntarily surfaced in Absaik's eyes. The subordinate answered truthfully, "He wants to enlist in the army." Absaik blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. "That fellow who doesn't have two ounces of muscle on his whole frame wants to join the army? Tell him to sign up at a recruiting station and pass the physical fitness test first!" "Yes, sir." Just as the subordinate was about to leave, Absaik remembered the Education Commissioner waiting outside and called him back. "Hold on." The subordinate turned back respectfully. "Commander, do you have further instructions?" Absaik considered for a moment, changing his mind. "I've changed my mind. Send him in." Those intellectuals—those petty nobles with a smattering of learning—had been getting far too full of themselves lately. Waving the banner of equality and discarding their worthless titles of baron and viscount, they acted as though they were the Alliance's favorite sons. One would think they were the ones who had conquered this realm! He needed to knock them down a peg, lest they forget who was running the show. Especially that Kabaha, who seemed to have forgotten who gave him the title of Education Commissioner in the first place. If the man pushed him too far, Absaik would replace him with a centurion in a heartbeat. Right now, he would rather receive an ant than grant Kabaha an audience. If the old man had any wits, he would understand the message. The subordinate looked surprised but asked no questions, offering a crisp military salute before turning to leave. Meanwhile, in the waiting lounge of the headquarters, an elderly man sat on a sofa, his brow furrowed and his beard quivering with fury. This was Kabaha, a former viscount of the old Xilan Empire. Renowned for his talent in composing songs and painting, he had earned the favor of Prince Dilip and been appointed director of the royal printing press. Later, during the Heavenly King's rebellion, he had been thrown into prison, only to be released when the reformist officers seized power. During his time behind bars, he had been exposed to the ideas of the Alliance and gradually understood the true causes behind the empire's decline. Upon his release, he had promptly answered the reformist officers' call, initially serving as a propaganda manager before eventually rising to the post of Education Commissioner. Unlike those who sought only to climb the social ladder, this man in his late fifties genuinely wished to do something for the survivors of Bolo Province, so that his descendants would not suffer as he had. Establishing schools was a promising path. Mr. Rat, who had penned the brilliant treatise *Red Soil*, had established a university in Mammoth City, allowing the youth of the State of Bolo to acquire real skills without having to travel all the way to Dawn City. Kabaha wanted to build a university in Tiandu as well—one even larger than the one in Mammoth Country. Yet the very people who had once supported him began beating around the bush the moment money had to be spent. "That Absaik is truly contemptible! Going back on his word, reneging on what he promised!" Sitting beside the old man, a young man with a warm smile placed a hand over the back of Kabaha's hand, comforting him in an earnest tone. "Elder, you shouldn't say that. Commander Absaik is a great hero now. In all fairness, your talent lies in education, while his lies in warfare; you excel in different fields. Both of you are pillars of the State of Bolo—how can you attack one another?" "A great hero! Hah! If even someone like that counts as a hero, then a bear might as well speak human tongue!" Kabaha continued to fume, looking ready to spit on the floor. "Others may fear speaking the truth, but with one foot already in the grave, I certainly won't coddle him!" Zayed chuckled. "Believe it or not, when I was in the Alliance, I actually saw a bear that could talk." "Fine! You've been to the Alliance; you're a man of the world! Then you judge!" Hearing that the young man had visited the Alliance, Kabaha grew animated, turning toward him to vent all his pent-up grievances. "He constantly cries no money, no money, yet look at all the desks and chairs in this headquarters! Did those cost nothing? And those officers—if they wasted less, if they took fewer concubines, how could we possibly lack even the desks for our children?!" "That... is indeed a problem," Zayed sighed, a trace of melancholy clouding his brow. "We are too poor; we truly ought to live more frugally." Those words struck straight at the old man's heart. Kabaha grew agitated, slapping the back of one hand against the palm of the other, his beard trembling with urgency. "Isn't that precisely the point! What good does hiding from me do? Will avoiding me solve the problem?" Zayed looked at him earnestly, wearing a heartfelt expression. "How much is the budget shortfall? I receive a modest stipend; perhaps I could save some to help you?" Kabaha was momentarily at a loss for words, then let out a sigh. "I appreciate your kind intentions, but as for your meager pay, you'd better keep it for yourself... This is not on the same order of magnitude." With that, looking concerned, he scolded in an earnest, grandfatherly tone, "You young people should focus on studying hard. Don't be like us old fogies, pinching every penny, reluctant to spend on this or that. Never skimp on what truly matters! We old bones are different; we are atoning for our past mistakes. I must see through what I ought to do before I can rest easy in the grave. You are the future of the State of Bolo." Running schools was not a one-time transaction, but a continuous expense. He knew deep down that Absaik couldn't produce the money, yet he still felt compelled to press him. After all, even with him constantly pushing, the officers had still managed to construct such an extravagant headquarters. If he didn't even raise his voice, wouldn't those fellows fly right into the heavens? There was already a palace in Tiandu! Thinking of this, Kabaha couldn't help but sigh again. If only there were still silver coins left in Wutuo's treasury. Compared to Wutuo's lavish spending, the money the officers spent on 'taking wives' was truly just pocket change. Perhaps Zayed's advice was right; perhaps he was indeed being overly impatient. Just then, footsteps came from outside the lounge, and a young officer walked in. Kabaha was about to stand up, but the officer didn't look at him. Instead, he turned toward the young man beside him. "Mr. Zayed, please follow me inside." Zayed cast a reluctant look at the old man, but sighed and stood up to follow. "... Elder, the Supreme Commander has summoned me. I'll take my leave first." Kabaha didn't look at him. His eyes were wide, glaring straight at the officer. Following Absaik's orders, the officer never spared him a single glance, ignoring his huffing and puffing as he led Zayed away... ... Inside the Supreme Commander's office. Absaik, seated behind the desk, laid down his pen and scrutinized the smiling young man before him. The smile was warm and amiable. Yet he could see the sharp blade hidden behind that harmless facade. Much like a viper lurking in the bushes. A true member of the Snake folk. Though he wasn't a racial supremacist, he couldn't help harboring such a thought. While he was sizing up his guest, Zayed did something entirely unexpected. "Greetings, Your Majesty the Supreme Commander!" With that, he raised his hands, preparing to kowtow. "What are you doing!" Absaik panicked, momentarily forgetting his appraisal as he hurried forward to support him. Zayed kept his head lowered, apologizing meekly. "Forgive me. I was simply overwhelmed with emotion upon seeing you, and forgot proper decorum for a moment..." Absaik sighed, speaking with solemn gravity. "I must admonish you. The empire has fallen. Now that the survivors of the State of Bolo have stood up, no one is permitted to kneel again." "You are entirely right, entirely right..." Zayed smiled sheepishly, wearing a simple, dull expression as if genuinely recognizing his fault. Observing this display, Absaik smiled on the surface, but inwardly his contempt only deepened. He even felt a touch of disdain. For the *Survivor Daily* to place such a man on equal footing with him was an insult! Absaik was indeed no saint, but in the entire Bolo Province, the only one worthy of being compared to him was Laxi. Not holding it against those journalists was his generosity, yet they had pushed their luck. A thought struck Absaik, and his foxy grin grew even broader. "... By the way, you mentioned wanting to enlist. That's easily arranged; I shall grant your wish." With that, Absaik returned to his desk, drew out paper and pen, and wrote out a letter of appointment. Finishing, he cleared his throat and declared in a solemn, dignified tone, "Effective immediately, I appoint you Supreme Commander of the Gray Wolf Army, to proceed to the Snake State war zone and prepare for battle against the Legion." Writing this commission almost made him laugh aloud, but he managed to stifle it. The Gray Wolf Army was currently nothing more than a band of outlaws. They answered neither the puppet Emperor Akbar nor the recruitment offers of the United Front, sulking in the ravines of Horse State while cradling Alaiyang's ashes, occasionally clashing with the border troops of Mammoth Country. That force wasn't even part of the State of Bolo's military. Once he had his hands free, he would mop them up; this appointment letter wasn't even worth scrap paper. Not to mention the vast distance between Horse State in the northeast and Snake State in the far south. If this fellow actually showed up with that paper, even if the remnants of the Gray Wolf Army didn't flay him alive, his 'Horse King,' Shahrukh, would play him to death. If he had any sense, he'd scurry off to Golden Gallon Port and stay there. Absaik beamed as he looked at the commission in his hands, firmly pressing his official seal onto it. Trying to play schemes against me? You're still too green! Sure enough, Zayed's face fell with visible difficulty. Yet watching Absaik hold out the document, he braced himself and reached out to take it. "... By your command!" "This mission is of paramount importance... Work hard, I have high hopes for you!" Absaik patted his shoulder, adopting the air of a seasoned superior, speaking with earnest gravity. "... Thank you for your mentorship, Commander. I will certainly not fail my mission." A bitter smile hung on Zayed's face. Absaik smiled, thoroughly pleased by the expression on the man's face, his foul mood lightening considerably. However, he failed to notice the cold sneer that flickered at the corner of Zayed's lips the moment the young man turned his back. Accepting the commission, Zayed walked out of the office with heavy steps, as if the slip of paper weighed a thousand jin. Yet the moment he stepped through the doorway, his stride turned light and swift, as though he had sprouted wings. Those perched high above saw only the light shining upon themselves, blind to the hunger burning in the eyes of ordinary people. Absaik was indeed a capable man; even without revealing any flaws, Zayed had still aroused his wariness. Unfortunately, perhaps buoyed by the confidence the Alliance provided, arrogance had ultimately clouded his vision. As he passed through the headquarters, Zayed offered a humble farewell to the elderly commissioner, subtly hinting at his new reassignment. Then, amid the old man's indignant protests and barrage of earnest advice, he reluctantly took his leave of the building. The young man waiting by the roadside spotted him and hurried over, falling in step behind him. "Sir, did Absaik make things difficult for you?" Zayed offered a faint smile. "That man has been frightened out of his wits by the blood splattered on him. He's nothing more than a petty thief who wants to take but lacks the nerve. If he truly possessed decisive ruthlessness, I would have gone to see Laxi instead of him." Sawa paused, pressing down on the flat cap atop his head, and asked in confusion, "Doesn't he count as decisively ruthless? Yanush was... by him..." Fearing internal affairs agents might be listening, he cut himself off. Zayed chuckled aloud. "Even someone like that can be called decisively ruthless? Then what was Yanush?" Looking at the bewildered Sawa, Zayed continued at an unhurried pace, "Take that old man named Kabaha. He dares point his finger at Absaik's nose and curse him. Do you think he'd dare make a peep in front of Yanush?" Not even a peep. Even drawing a breath too loudly could have cost him his head. Sawa asked, puzzled, "... But you said Mr. Kabaha is a good person." "He is." Casually buying a newspaper from a roadside stall, the aloof man spoke impassively. "Do you want to be a good person too?" Sawa shook his head at once, replying with bashful humility, "I am your man, sir." Zayed grinned and patted the back of the youth's head. "Time to set off." The two figures, one tall and one short, gradually faded into the distance along the narrow road. They hailed a rickshaw and headed toward the river port outside Tiandu's east gate. A dozen transport barges were docking. A column of soldiers wearing gas masks marched down the pier in disciplined formation, heading straight for the military base north of the city. They appeared to be racing against time, pausing for not a single instant, even if hell itself lay ahead. The crowd parted spontaneously. Whether hurried travelers carrying luggage, laborers hauling cargo, or boatmen, citizens, and villagers browsing nearby stalls, all turned reverent, even admiring gazes toward those figures— Those noble idealists. Standing in the crowd, Sawa murmured with sudden envy, "... If only we had people sworn to die for us like that." Also watching those tall figures, Zayed replied in a quiet voice, "We will." *** At the same time, on the front line of Lion State. A wrecked armored train lay overturned in the wilderness northwest of Ridepur County. Its heavily armored cars were crumpled together, sunk deep into the soil. The 902mm heavy cannon had fared even worse, smashed concave by a single railgun shell. Leaning against a wrecked Chimera armored vehicle, Lao Na panted heavily. He glanced down at the LD-47 assault rifle in his hands, then looked toward the steel torrent approaching in the distance. This thing won't be of much use now... With a bitter chuckle, he looked over at the prisoner sitting tightly bound on the ground nearby. The black hood covering the Wilante soldier's head had fallen off, and the terrified face was staring right at him. Without sending him to meet his marshal, Irena merely barked at him, "Scram." Having killed so many, one or two hardly made a difference. Besides, executing prisoners wasn't very honorable. The Wilante soldier stared at him in disbelief, looking as though he couldn't trust his own ears. Irena offered no explanation, simply raising the rifle to aim at him. "Bang!" He mimicked the gunshot with his mouth, grinning as he watched the fellow tumble backward into the mud in fright. Scrambling up from the mire, the Wilante soldier didn't dare look back, stumbling away in a frantic run. When that fellow made it back, perhaps he would regale his comrades with a tale of cheating death. Then again, maybe he would ponder what on earth he had come here for in the first place... There were no living souls left here. Irena took a ragged breath, looked at the blood pouring from his thigh, and pressed the communicator to send a final voice transmission to the brothers of the Burning Corps. "This is the Skeleton Corps... Our mission has been completed with distinction. Not only their armored train, but the three divisions that tried to stop us have been crippled—though we're in the same boat." "Pity about the equipment. We've torched it with thermite, so no need for you guys to bother." "Oh, right. If you run into the Bolo Eleventh Myriad fighting guerrilla-style, remember to pull them out of here... The battle on this end is over." After a brief silence, a flat, emotionless reply came through the crackle of static. Fang Chang: "Copy that. See you in three days." "Fuck! Can't you... let me die a bit more tragically?" Cursing under his breath, Lao Na cut the comms and turned toward the western night sky. The pitch-black curtain of night was suddenly illuminated by streaks of glittering tracers. Just as he had anticipated. The Legion had been completely infuriated. They didn't even intend to leave intact corpses, opting directly for execution by artillery. Of course, it wasn't out of the question that they were simply terrified... "Hahaha! This life was worth it... Spit! I've still got another!" Lao Na let out a hearty laugh, firing a burst from his rifle toward the sky. Then he watched the boiling white phosphorus rain down from the heavens, swallowing him along with the battered position behind him. If the Legion thought fire alone could wipe them out, they were being far too naive. It was only three days. He would be back!