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Chapter 34: Catching a Turtle in a Jar, Only to Be Caught by the Turtle
The command center of the First Battalion, Third Brigade of the Silverwing Tempest Mechanized Infantry Division was eerily silent. Everyone stared dumbfounded at the central screen displaying footage transmitted from a reconnaissance satellite.
Two Porcupine multi-functional APCs were parked one behind the other at the entrance of the ravine. The cockpit of the lead APC had exploded into a massive inferno, and nearby lay a Sulru Empire soldier, sprawled lifelessly on the ground. Behind the wreckage, three hulking black figures surrounded the second APC, relentlessly attacking it. Their armor was as thick as that of a main battle tank, with chest plates as wide as water barrels and heads shaped like flattened ovals protruding above them. On their backs hung cumbersome ammunition boxes and cooling systems.
According to data analyzed from the satellite feed, these unknown soldiers stood 1.5 meters wide and 2.6 meters tall. They wielded grenade launchers capable of firing explosive rounds continuously—essentially mobile human turrets.
Grenades tore through the night sky, leaving deep craters in the APC's surface, while the vehicle’s 20mm autocannon retaliated with bursts of fire, sending shards of rock flying across the rugged terrain. The large-caliber bullets struck sparks against the enemy's powered armor, knocking one figure off its feet. But without so much as a groan, they rolled over and got back up, resuming their relentless assault.
"How... how is this even possible?!" someone muttered.
"What the hell are they wearing? It can withstand 20mm cannon fire!"
"Dear Lord, tell me this isn’t real—it’s all an illusion, just an illusion!"
"Who can explain where they came from?" Major Gracie Scott roared furiously.
Such soldiers, capable of going toe-to-toe with armored vehicles, were elite among elites in any nation—typically reserved for direct protection of heads of state. The cost of equipping such troops was astronomical; according to his knowledge, a single suit of powered armor capable of shrugging off 20mm autocannon fire could rival the price of seventeen or eighteen APCs.
Where did these elite forces come from? When did they arrive? How had they infiltrated his territory undetected?
Gracie Scott felt his head spinning. He’d initially thought there were only three enemy scouts—a platoon would have been more than enough to deal with them. Instead, he now realized he'd sent his men into a meat grinder. Second Lieutenant Raman’s platoon had already lost nine soldiers, and the last APC was teetering on the brink of destruction. In frustration, Scott slammed his fist onto the table, spilling most of the coffee from his cup.
"Report the situation to headquarters! First Company stays put; Second, Third, and Fourth Companies mobilize everything we’ve got—APCs, tanks, armed shuttles, anything usable. I want those bastards in the ravine captured! Captured!"
As Gracie’s voice trailed off, the battered APC on the screen met its final fate. A flash of light illuminated the scene as the rear door was breached, revealing Herbert’s face contorted in sheer terror.
Outside, three brutish figures showed no mercy. Each raised their K12 quad-barrel grenade launchers and unleashed a barrage into the cabin.
Dying wasn’t much different from losing one’s virginity—it hurt for a moment, then it was over.
By the time flames erupted from the APC’s rear, Second Lieutenant Raman and his remaining troops had arrived at the entrance of the ravine. Watching helplessly as the last APC’s rear door was torn open, Raman let out a hoarse cry.
Another new breed of soldier unlike anything he’d ever seen. When had the enemy developed such advanced military technology? As longstanding rivals, the Sulru Empire and Monya Empire had always kept tabs on each other’s military capabilities. Yet today, during what should have been a routine operation to hunt down enemy scouts, Raman found himself utterly bewildered.
“Herbert! Herbert!” His calls were met only with static.
Of the original twenty-five-man platoon, only eleven remained—and their retreat route had been cut off. It was clear: the enemy intended to annihilate them all.
A turtle-catching mission? Now it seemed like nothing more than a cruel joke. The turtle hadn’t been caught—it had turned around and bitten them instead.
Just as Raman prepared to send a distress signal, he spotted over a dozen shadows darting across the northern slope of the ravine. The alien creatures that had earlier attacked Rodman and the others descended from higher ground, appearing before them.
“As I expected,” Raman muttered bitterly. It really was a turtle trap—but they were the turtles!
The alien creatures didn’t give them time to react. Eighteen creatures formed an arc and surged toward Raman’s group. Without waiting for orders, Rodman, Artemy, and others opened fire simultaneously. Tongues of flame spat from their weapons, rows of bullets slicing through the air. Thanks to the open terrain and buffer zones, casualties appeared among the charging beasts. When one of the leading creatures collapsed under concentrated fire, Raman’s team felt a flicker of hope. These terrifying alien creatures, though covered in hard scales, weren’t invincible after all. With sufficient firepower, they could still be shredded.
“Come on, let’s show these crawling insects what grenades taste like!”
Artemy stepped onto a boulder jutting three feet above the ground, switching his assault rifle to grenade mode. Smirking coldly at the swarm of bugs over a hundred meters away, he prepared to pull the trigger. Suddenly, a gray blur the size of an arm streaked past, piercing straight through his powered armor and exiting his chest before vanishing into the night sky.
Blood gushed from both his chest and back as Artemy’s heavy body toppled from the rock, collapsing silently onto the ground.
At the same time, Raman heard two screams in quick succession over the comms. Two soldiers on his right flank, who had been furiously firing at the alien creatures, were suddenly engulfed in flashes of electricity. Moments later, chunks of flesh flew everywhere.
“Ambushed from both sides!” Raman gasped, instinctively turning around. Near the southern slope, amidst a field of shattered stones, two Reapers stood calmly, methodically picking off his men with Gauss rifles.
To the left of the Reapers stood three figures—the very infiltrators they had been tasked to capture.
But that wasn’t what shocked Raman the most. When a monstrous creature towering three meters high and seven meters long emerged beside Tang Fang, dwarfing even a main battle tank, the young lieutenant’s mind went blank. The heavens themselves seemed to collapse.
Damn it, what the hell is?! Alien creatures, giant beasts, unknown soldier types, Monya Empire troops—what kind of unholy combination is this? How are we supposed to fight this battle? How?!
In open terrain, close combat should have favored Raman’s team. But when Tang Fang appeared behind them alongside the Reapers and the Queen, their advantageous position instantly flipped into a desperate disadvantage.
One by one, soldiers fell. When Rodman finally collapsed with a pained groan, Raman knew his time had come. Though magnetic projectiles struck his chest, the fatal blow came from behind—an alien creature’s claws pierced through his reinforced steel vest, impaling his chest cavity completely.
And so ended Lieutenant Raman’s last stand.
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