Whether or not Meredith understood the reason behind it, the enemy's advance did not slow in the slightest. As the roar of engines approached, Karl issued his final command before engaging:
"Take them out."
The breach was complete—Karl's consciousness fully synced with his cybernetic systems.
Exhale.
As he released a slow breath, time dilated with the activation of his Sandivistan. To him, everything around slowed to a crawl.
In that suspended moment, Karl stepped out from behind the truck, Denshi SMG in hand. But he wasn't the only one moving.
Several attackers leapt from their armored vehicles, Mantis Blades deployed, charging toward him. Karl calmly raised the submachine gun.
Smart targeting chip synced. Targets locked.
With a gentle squeeze of the trigger, the Denshi spat a burst of rounds. In the slowed world, even the trails of the bullets shimmered clearly in the dust-filled air.
Then, Karl let the Denshi fall from his hand.
The bullets, already locked onto their targets, no longer required his input. Now, he needed something else—a blade.
He hurled a throwing knife.
Three attackers bore down on him, each with a cold, focused expression. Their Mantis Blades were already aimed at Karl's vitals—from the left, right, and center, their strikes targeted his kidneys and chest. It was a textbook pincer kill move.
By all logic, Karl should have stepped back. But—time was enough.
Their ferocious expressions remained frozen as the Sandivistan reached its final threshold.
Now, it was Karl's time to act.
"You were a move behind."
With perfect coordination, Karl intercepted the left and right blades, grabbed them mid-swing, and redirected the strikes into their wielders' own torsos. Neither had time to react before their blades pierced through their own chests.
Without missing a beat, Karl surged forward.
Time resumed its flow.
The third blade lunged straight for Karl's chest.
There was no time to dodge.
But at that very moment, the EMP throwing knife reached the back of the third attacker—and detonated.
Radius: four meters.
The distance was exact.
The electromagnetic pulse knocked out the attacker's systems in an instant. With that much chrome—Sandivistan and Mantis Blades—the overload was guaranteed to disable him completely.
"Rest easy."
Karl sidestepped the now-limp blade and reached out with an open hand. His palm clamped down on the attacker's helmet.
Then squeezed.
CRACK. SPLURT.
Two bodies collapsed behind him, pierced through by redirected blades. In his grip, bone shattered like glass.
Three down.
Click-clack.
The smart-guided bullets curved around the front of an armored vehicle and slipped through the shattered side window, embedding themselves into the driver's skull. As Karl lowered the limp body, the now-driverless vehicle veered off-course.
It screeched sideways and slammed into the side of the Arasaka heavy truck.
One down.
Out of five armored vehicles, four remained.
Dust and debris swirled from the impact. Karl adjusted his helmet and stepped into the haze.
Perfect cover—bullets, chaos, and billowing sand. It was all the concealment he needed.
Moving like a ghost through the battlefield, Karl felt nothing but focus.
Good thing he'd worn the combat suit. Otherwise, in this endless storm of fine desert silt, his clothes would have been stained beyond recognition.
Elsewhere, the Militech operatives and nomads had begun counterattacking. Faced with enemies charging into their lines, instinct and training took over. While several were torn apart by Mantis Blades, their return fire tore through some of the enemy armor.
Despite the casualties, the combined numbers of Militech and the nomads still slightly outmatched the attackers. In a close-quarters fight, that numerical edge was slowly turning the tide.
But the enemy commander was watching his soldiers' life signals vanish one by one. Beneath his helmet, his teeth ground together.
These weren't just any soldiers—they were his hand-picked elites. And now, they were getting chewed up by a ragtag group of transport guards and mercenaries.
Where the hell is that netrunner?
It was the hacker who ruined everything. If not for the breach, the ambush would've been clean. Now the plan was falling apart.
The commander hadn't joined the fight yet. His cybernetic eyes swept the battlefield, scanning for any sign of that netrunner—the one who cracked their comms like it was nothing.
Someone with that kind of capability had to be using a full rig. A tactical deck, ICEbreakers, the works. He wasn't jacked in through a standard port—this was full hardware.
He must be close. But where?
Then he spotted it.
A non-hostile armored vehicle, parked beside the Arasaka truck. Untouched. Probably avoided by their own snipers to protect the cargo.
Of course. He's in there. Lying down in the back with his equipment, jacked in.
The commander's Sandivistan activated. He dashed to the vehicle, lifted his right arm—
A modified Mantis Blade deployed—its surface lined with spinning serrated edges, more chainsaw than blade.
With a grim expression, he swung the weapon down.
The rotating edge sliced through the armored plate like butter, tearing a gash into the side.
He lunged, aiming to impale the hacker—
Empty.
No one inside.
Shit!
His pupils constricted.
Behind him, a soft footstep.
"One more down."
The barrel of Endless Night pressed against the back of his helmet.
BANG.
.
.
.
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