Mercenary’s War

Aurora Fox King.

Satan’s Evil Sheep.

Angel Mad Wolf.

Iron Madonna is a viper.

In terms of strength, each has its merits.

When it comes to madness, only the Angel Mad Wolf stands alone.

The wild madness, the arrogant madness, the unrestrained madness.

The proud Mad Wolf, the lonely Mad Wolf, the Mad Wolf driven insane by despair.

The world’s best and strongest mercenary groups each have their own characteristics, shaped by the leader’s personality. A successful mercenary group owes its success to a successful leader, and a successful leader inevitably possesses a unique charm.

Aurora Alexander, nicknamed the Arctic Fox, is cunning like a fox. Yet, Alexander and Aurora safely concluded their battles with a record of total victory and zero casualties. In their combat, they exhibit the craftiness of a fox, yet they are a truly formidable force, whether judged by their record or Aurora’s fighting style, Aurora reigns supreme in the mercenary circles.

Satan leads the Rams, a herbivore, but this herbivore is dangerous, hiding a devil’s soul beneath its harmless exterior. When the grazing ram opens the devil’s eyes, it heralds the enemy’s death.

Benevolence can be wicked, justice coexists with evil, and with a passionate heart and cold-blooded means, Satan’s Rams become Evil Sheep.

Hidden without a trace, invisible, people know only their name. The forces led by Iron Madonna are divided into multiple areas, each excelling in their specialties. Even when wounded, they can quickly regain strength; they endure through storms without falling, keeping a large and strong mercenary group always among the ranks of the strongest.

Always lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike with venom-filled fangs, this is Iron Madonna’s Hydra, a nine-headed serpent that keeps its vital spot hidden.

Angels are a group of madmen but also a collection of the purest soldiers.

The Angel Mercenary Corps are all Germans. This mercenary group isn’t the conscience of German soldiers but their military soul.

Now, the German army has become a flock of sheep, German soldiers have become sheep in a fold.

A Wolf King left the sheepfold to preserve his wolf nature, gathering a group of wolves who couldn’t remain in the sheepfold, thus forming the Angels.

The compatriots of the Angel Mercenary Corps are a pack of wolves raised as sheep; these people in the Angel Mercenary Corps are wolves who refuse to be sheep.

The wolves of the Angels move in packs, but compared to the sheepfold they left, they are exiled lone wolves.

Wolves: fierce, patient, united, loyal, cold-blooded.

Madness isn’t inherent to wolves, but Nate is a mad lone wolf.

Nate must be mad; without madness, there would be no Angels, and without madness, Angels wouldn’t be strong. For the dream within, madness is necessary.

For the dream, Nate led the Angel Mercenary Corps, changing much, sacrificing much, painstakingly striving in unfamiliar ways in Ukraine for their dream.

Now the dream is shattered.

Nate and his Angels are plunged into one last frenzy.

Mad Angels are the most dangerous Angels, and Mad Nate is the most dangerous Nate.

Entering extinction in the last frenzy.

Embrace a brilliant demise in the last frenzy.

Angels.

Mad Wolf!

"Affrigen!"

The voice was high-pitched and mournful, like a wounded, despairing lone wolf.

Nate let out a shout, ready to launch an attack toward the fourth row of buildings.

Two people have already fallen, and four more are wounded. The Russian Signal Flag is not an opponent to be trifled with but a formidable enemy that requires a resolve to perish together to be defeated.

Nate doesn’t know how much longer he can keep attacking; the casualties aren’t severe, relative to this opponent, a result of six casualties is much better than expected.

But ammunition is depleting too quickly; the consumption rate of bullets is bearable, but grenades for urban and indoor battles are vanishing fast, and the rocket launchers for breaching are almost exhausted.

After this charge, there will be no heavy firepower left for assault.

Nate raised his left arm, his expression firm yet relaxed, turned to glance at the subordinates about to charge, and shouted again: "Affrigen!"

"Kill those German bastards! Hooray!"

Nate heard a familiar yet distant memory of an angry shout; he paused for a moment, then lowered his left arm and led the charge again.

Smoke grenades were already thrown before charging, and shock grenades were deployed as they rushed forward.

In the pitch-black night, those without a night vision device cannot engage in what could be called a fair fight; visual advantage is crucial in determining the outcome of battle.

The KGB isn’t a pure combat unit; of course, they wouldn’t equip every individual with a night vision device – it’s unnecessary, and Russia lacks the financial resources. It was found in the previous battle only Signal Flag soldiers had a night vision device each.

And twenty Signal Flag soldiers have already died, a full twenty.

The person shouting "Hooray" sounded very sorrowful, and Nate thought they didn’t have a night vision device; otherwise, the shout should have been heroic rather than tragic.

Nate charged out, returning fire with his rifle towards the source of shots. He precisely and effectively took down an enemy shooting from behind a window and a person wearing militia uniform, wielding an AK, firing at the doorway.

Nate provided precise shooting and suppression, then set down his rifle, detached the last grenade from his chest, threw it towards the room with the most intense shooting, having reached the doorway by then.

With rifle bullets about to run out, Nate drew his pistol and charged into the house, his night vision displaying four people – two on the ground, one propping himself, trying to shoot at him, and another aiming a rifle at the doorway, shouting and firing wildly.

Shooting wildly, but aiming wrongly, Nate slid on his knees into the room, bullets whizzing over his head.

Firing, killing the enemy with the rifle, Nate aimed his pistol at the propped enemy, hitting him precisely in the face, but the enemy’s rifle, gripped single-handedly, fired its last, with a bullet bouncing off the ground and striking Nate’s helmet while another grazed his neck.

Nate clutched his neck, slowing the blood loss, then finished off two enemies on the ground, stood up, and rushed toward another door in the room.

Nate kicked open the door, hearing a cry.

Nate’s pistol didn’t fire; instead, he quickly used his left hand, holding his neck, to block his subordinate who followed him in, lifting their aimed weapon upwards.

The gun fired, but the bullet missed the people inside.

A woman, clutching two children in a corner, cried out in despair.

Nate gave a cold glance at the woman, then another cold look at the subordinate who fired, before coldly saying: "No killing!"

"Sorry, it wasn’t intentional."

Nate suddenly raised his left arm, and his subordinate ceased explanations, stowed his rifle, and turned away silently.

Looking at the trembling adult and children, Nate turned, closed the door behind him, holstered his pistol, swiftly replaced the rifle’s magazine, and charged outside.

Nate stopped, with only the rifle available for use, didn’t inquire about the casualty status, and shouted: "Affrigen!"

Assault, Angels supreme, Mad Wolf as king.

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