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Chapter 109: A Gift from the Heavens
“Major, according to reports from the southern scouts, a small unidentified group is approaching the battlefield at high speed.” The communications officer emerged from the command vehicle, his voice tinged with urgency.
“Unidentified?” Stivie furrowed his brow. Who could they be? The Southern Sunaru Alliance? Impossible. Even if they’d used attack helicopters, there was no way they could have arrived so quickly—not with the First Legion’s 608th Armored Division standing in their way.
“Yes, sir,” the officer continued. “The scouts described them as wearing thick power armor, but it’s not the ‘Guardian Knight’ model. There are three distinct types.”
“Not Guardian Knights? And three different kinds?” Stivie’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Major, the forward units are asking whether to engage.”
Before Stivie could respond, Grant stepped forward, gripping the communications officer’s arm with barely contained excitement. “Are some of them bulky, carrying cooling towers on their backs—like walking bears? And others smaller, wielding oversized assault rifles?”
“What? You’ve seen them before?” The officer gaped at Grant, stunned.
“More than seen them—they saved our lives.” With that cryptic remark, Grant hurried off toward the south, leaving Walton, Monroe, and the others exchanging bewildered glances.
Little Sam, however, couldn’t contain his glee. Grinning ear to ear, he waved his fists triumphantly at the group before dashing after Grant.
Though still unclear about the situation, Stivie gathered enough from their exchange to bark an order at the communications officer. “Quickly! Inform the southern perimeter squad not to open fire. They’re friendly!”
“Uh… right.” The officer scratched the back of his head and ducked back into the command vehicle.
---
By the time Stivie finished issuing orders and arrived at the southern edge of the battlefield with Walton and the others, Grant was pacing anxiously, binoculars in hand.
Stivie took the high-powered scope from a nearby sentry and raised it to his eyes, scanning the horizon.
In the distance, over thirty figures advanced like rolling waves. Leading the charge were thirteen hulking warriors clad in heavy, cumbersome armor, their lumbering steps making them look like black bears trudging across the plains. Behind them marched thirteen leaner soldiers, each armed with massive assault rifles. Their sleek, obsidian helmets gleamed under the setting sun, casting faint halos around their heads.
Bringing up the rear were twelve ghostly figures equipped with flamethrowers and gas masks, their movements erratic and unpredictable, like wraiths drifting through the dusk.
“What… what kind of gear is this? And where did they come from?” Stivie muttered, swallowing hard.
Grant and the others remained silent, their gazes fixed on the approaching figures. Their expressions were a mix of awe, confusion, joy, and disbelief as the distant dots grew larger with every passing second.
“But Talosal only had nineteen people with him earlier. Why are there thirty-eight now?” Joey murmured, staring blankly at the armored procession.
“And look at that last squad—the ones with jetpacks!” Monroe exclaimed, his voice trembling. “Those rigs are exclusive to Doranx Republic special forces. They cost a fortune! When we parted ways, they only had two types of power armor and nineteen men. Now, just an hour later, they’ve doubled in number and added new models?”
Sam practically vibrated with excitement. Only Walton’s firm grip kept him from bolting out of cover prematurely.
As the initial shock began to subside, Stivie lowered the binoculars and exhaled deeply. Even if these newcomers were allies—and even if their equipment gave them unmatched combat prowess—one fact loomed large: the government forces outnumbered them nearly forty to one. Add in naval bombardment support, and the odds seemed insurmountable.
38 versus 1,500? No amount of optimism could sugarcoat those numbers.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Grant said, placing a reassuring hand on Stivie’s shoulder. “But trust me when I say this: these soldiers are unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. Take my unit, for example. Just five or six of those armored warriors could wipe us out without breaking a sweat.”
“What?” Stivie turned sharply, certain he’d misheard—or that Grant had lost his mind. “You’re serious?”
“I am.” Grant’s tone was unwavering. “The frontline heavies? Their defense makes the Empire’s ‘Guardian Knights’ look like toys. Heavy machine gun fire bounces off them like pebbles. As for offense…” He pointed toward the lead squad. “See those dark barrels on their forearms? Those aren’t decorative. They’re grenade launchers.”
“And the second row?” Stivie pressed, his skepticism giving way to curiosity.
“Ninety enemy drones armed with mini-missiles—turned into scrap metal by nine of those light-armored troopers. Two casualties on their side. That’s it.”
“And the flamethrower squad?”
Grant shook his head. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like them either. But think about it. Our boys struggle to climb buildings while snipers pick them off one by one. These guys? High ground, low ground—it doesn’t matter. To them, this ruined factory might as well be an open field.”
He paused, letting the implications sink in. “Imagine this: enemy snipers lying in wait, ready to mow down our troops. Then suddenly, a squadron of flying soldiers descends upon them. What do you think happens next?”
Grant’s words painted vivid images in Stivie’s mind. He envisioned panicked enemies scattering, snipers screaming in despair as chaos erupted on the battlefield.
It could work. It would work. This wasn’t just reinforcements—it was divine intervention. A razor-sharp blade cutting straight into the heart of the enemy lines.
“Quick! Grant, Kelson—come with me to meet them. By all that’s holy, we can’t afford to offend godsends like these!” Stivie’s face split into a wide grin, his teeth gleaming against his soot-streaked skin.
“Oh… oh!” Kelson, who had been daydreaming idly, snapped to attention and scrambled out of cover. He followed Stivie and Grant as they jogged toward the approaching friendly units, their hearts pounding with hope renewed.
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