Chapter 110: Northern Reconnaissance – Preparation (II)

Another day passed quietly. Hans sparred with Callum in the parking lot again.

Whistles motioned around the empty space. Their fists moved quicker than a fly’s buzz. Their kicks hit harder than a truck’s bump.

Each strike landed with a dull thud that traveled up to their bones.

At the last moment, Hans executed a punch aimed at Callum’s head. A soft palm blocked the attack, halting both of their momentum.

“How’s that?”

Hans pulled back his hand, flexing his fingers. The knuckles were red, skin hot from impact.

“Passable, Commander,” Callum commented flatly, standing straight.

“Passable in what standard?”

Hans’s mouth twitched.

“You won’t die from the first strike,” Callum added.

“I guess that’s better than before,” Hans sighed, popping his knuckles in exasperation. “Any reports from the colony?”

“Dmitri returned last night,” Callum replied. “Your second-in-command has more details to follow.”

Second-in-command, Hans was at a loss.

He was unsure if Callum didn’t want to speak Alexei’s name, or he simply didn’t know at all.

“Tell Dmitri to come over,” Hans turned around, headed towards the first apartment building. “Send in the convertible loot as well.”

“Understood.”

With that, Callum disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Hans yawned on his way back.

Up on the rooftops, the number of Missile Infantry had grown to sixteen.

Launchers rested diagonally against parapets. Spotters rotated shifts, scanning empty streets that no longer stirred.

The rest grabbed a fan for themselves under the heat. In their minds, they all wished for a large cold glass of pint and steak.

The umbrella shade gave them a short respite, but defending an area with limited action wasted their combat abilities.

One adjusted the sling of his launcher.

“When’s our departure?”

“Within a week,” replied by his mate. “Why? You’re bored?”

“Aren’t you also bored?”

One of them reached into their pockets. From within, a box of cards was pulled out.

“Let’s play another round. Whoever loses has to stand in the heat.”

“Shut it,” the fourth Missile Infantry hushed. “What if the squad leader sees us again?”

“Then you’ll stand there yourself.”

“Damn it!”

The last guy cursed, then silence followed. They all knew what came after their departure for the northern operation.

Cards were easier. And they had to spend more time before that boredom was given away.

…

Hans ignored the ruckus above. To him, peace was a luxury in these dire times. But he understood how these soldiers felt.

His teary eyes landed back on the parking lot. It was no longer a hollow echo of abandoned vehicles.

Steel and armor occupied the space now.

Six Guardian APCs idled near the entrance, their engines humming low and steady.

Behind them stood four Vanguard MBT Tanks. Their turrets aligned forward, as if they were already facing the northern direction.

Rows of Army Soldiers checked their magazines, chattering idly about random topics—a mix of crazy and boring ones.

Conscripts formed loose ranks further back, their uniforms slightly mismatched but their submachine guns clean of any dirt or grease.

Near the entrance of the first apartment building stood three Direct Action Special Forces units.

Their presence alone shifted the air around them.

Their gear was darker and heavier than the rest.

Their helmets were clipped to their belts rather than worn, as if even head protection was optional to them.

Hans walked into them slowly, feeling an aura no weaker than Callum’s.

Two males. One female.

The first male stood tall and broad-shouldered, his arms folded across his chest. A faint scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving his resting expression a permanent ferocity.

His gaze did not wander. It remained forward—calculating everything in front of him. His expression was nothing short of being patient, almost bored. If Callum was a hammer, this one felt like a wall.

Beside him stood the second male, leaner, his stance slightly angled rather than rigid. His gloves were already worn at the knuckles. He rolled his shoulders once as Hans approached, as if warming up for something only he could see. His eyes were sharper—restless and predatory. He looked like someone who preferred movement over static defense.

The female unit stood half a step behind the two, not in submission but more in observation. Her hair was tied tightly back, no strand out of place. Unlike the others, her weapon remained slung but unlocked. Her eyes studied Hans directly, neither deferential nor challenging.

She was measured and efficient.

If the first was a wall, and the second a blade, she was no different to a scalpel.

The three of them straightened as Hans stopped before them.

A synchronized salute.

The air between them felt compressed, as if three compressed springs were waiting for a signal from their trigger.

Hans looked at each of them briefly.

——

Name: Mikhail Von Bothmer

Unit: Direct Action Special Forces Unit

Tier: 0 (60% Synchronization Rate)

Axes: Somatic

Star Promotion: 0 – 0 / 12000

…

[ Traits ]

None

——

Name: Kross Reichen

Unit: Direct Action Special Forces Unit

Tier: 0 (60% Synchronization Rate)

Axes: Somatic

Star Promotion: 0 – 0 / 12000

…

[ Traits ]

None

——

Name: Matilda Forde

Unit: Direct Action Special Forces Unit

Tier: 0 (60% Synchronization Rate)

Axes: Somatic, Perception

Star Promotion: 0 – 0 / 12000

…

[ Traits ]

Eye of the Witness — her eyes can pierce through the veil, unveiling any secrets between barriers and deceits. Exhausts a large amount of energy per usage.

——

“You all look ready,” Hans said with a faint smile. “How’s our preparations?”

Mikhail answered first. His voice was low, steady.

“Southern perimeter has been secured. Rotations adjusted to Commander’s needs. No anomalies, not for now.”

Kross tilted his head slightly.

“APC and Vanguard crews briefed, Commander. Everyone is itching to move.”

Matilda spoke last.

“Route simulationshas been reviewed. Closest road with the least resistance is the western bypass road.”

Hans raised a brow.

“You assume escalation?”

Matilda met his eyes calmly. “I assume nothing stays simple, Commander.”

Kross smirked faintly. “If it does, we’ll make it complicated.”

Mikhail shot him a glance. “Shut it. Act in discipline.”

Hans let out a soft chuckle.

“At ease. I don’t mind honesty.”

He circled them once, slow.

“Tell me,” Hans said, stopping in front of Kross. “If I ordered you to advance alone into an unknown industrial yard with limited visibility, possible radiation pockets, and hostile presence, what would you do?”

Mikhail’s eyes sharpened. “Advance, Commander.”

Kross answered immediately after. “Ah, so brutish. I would secure the perimeter first, Commander.”

Matilda did not hesitate. “Assess the situation before stepping forward.”

Hans smiled slightly.

Three answers—all correct in their own way.

“Good,” Hans said quietly. “We will leave soon.”

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