The moment Ethan Müller realized the Americans had switched to depleted uranium ammunition, a knot formed in his stomach.
As a veteran special forces instructor and field commander, he knew exactly what those rounds were designed to do.
Depleted uranium penetrators, forged from uranium-238, had been developed specifically to defeat armored targets. Upon impact, they generated temperatures approaching six thousand degrees Celsius, burning through armor before unleashing devastating heat inside the target.
They also carried radioactive contamination.
Even if the initial wound failed to kill, prolonged exposure often finished the job.
Because of their controversial nature, the U.S. military had deliberately avoided using them until now.
But Brigadier General Talbot had personally authorized the use of maximum available firepower.
The restrictions were gone.
Heavy M2 machine guns began hammering the Tyrants with streams of depleted uranium rounds.
For the first time...
The monsters bled.
Fortunately, Howard Wytest’s obsessive preparations were paying off.
Their armor wasn’t improvised steel plating.
It had been fabricated from genuine main battle tank armor.
Combined with the Tyrants’ mutated bodies, it prevented catastrophic damage.
The depleted uranium rounds punched through the outer armor, but by then much of their momentum had been spent. They barely pierced the Tyrants’ chitin-like skin before lodging inside muscles as dense as forged steel.
The wounds alone weren’t life-threatening.
The searing heat was another matter.
So was the agonizing sting left behind by the radioactive material.
The squad radio filled with pained roars.
Cold sweat trickled down Ethan’s back.
He had no idea how long the Tyrants could endure this punishment.
He knew only one thing.
They were the foundation of the entire operation.
If they fell...
Everything collapsed.
Without them, he, the hacker, and the remaining Hydra operatives wouldn’t survive a minute against four American companies.
Even if he somehow escaped...
What then?
Howard Wytest had invested enormous resources into creating the Tyrant Squad.
He had spent a fortune.
Called in favors decades in the making.
Activated deeply buried Hydra assets inside the U.S. military.
If Ethan returned empty-handed after getting every Tyrant killed...
Howard would probably execute him personally.
A darker thought crept into his mind.
Then don’t go back.
Run.
Disappear.
Immediately afterward, he rejected the idea.
Where could he possibly hide?
The U.S. military would hunt him.
Hydra would brand him a traitor.
S.H.I.E.L.D. would almost certainly begin its own investigation.
There would be nowhere left on Earth to disappear.
The only remaining option would be surrender.
Perhaps...
If he testified against Hydra, he could become a protected witness and survive.
The possibility lingered for only a heartbeat.
Then Ethan froze.
Disgust twisted his expression.
Smack.
Smack.
He slapped himself across the face twice.
"What the hell am I thinking?"
His voice shook with fury.
"I am Ethan Müller."
"A Hydra soldier."
"I gave my life to Hydra long ago."
"How could I even consider desertion..."
"...or betraying Hydra?"
Shame burned hotter than fear.
If the mission failed...
Then he would die fighting.
He tightened his grip around his rifle, fully prepared to charge into the battle himself.
Then the battlefield changed.
Instead of retreating...
The wounded Tyrants became even more violent.
Some stood in the open, unleashing both M60 machine guns without pause.
Others ripped every high-explosive grenade from their belts and hurled them toward the American lines in rapid succession.
One Tyrant emerged carrying an entire crate of heavy mortar shells.
He tucked the ammunition box under one arm.
With the other, he struck each shell against his armor to arm it before casually throwing it by hand.
Every impact blossomed into another explosion.
The agonized screams filling the radio slowly transformed.
Into laughter.
Wild.
Savage.
Completely unhinged.
Earlier in the battle, ordinary American ammunition had been so ineffective that many Tyrants barely registered they were under attack.
Viewing the battlefield entirely through digital displays inside their sealed helmets only heightened the strange sense of detachment.
The fight had felt unreal.
Now...
Pain had returned.
And with it...
Something buried deep inside their blood awakened.
The Abyssal Lord’s blood flowing through their veins ignited.
The Tyrants descended into a berserk frenzy.
Reason all but vanished.
Only slaughter remained.
Their boiling rage demanded blood.
Enemy blood.
Enemy suffering.
Only then did the agony inside them ease.
Even stripped of most rational thought, their predatory instincts remained terrifyingly sharp.
Almost every Tyrant instinctively prioritized the greatest threats first.
The heavy machine guns firing depleted uranium ammunition became their primary targets.
The American advance, which had only just begun making progress, ground to a halt once more.
Then it was driven backward under a storm of overwhelming return fire.
The frontline commander felt a crushing sense of frustration.
Victory had seemed within reach.
The enemy looked exhausted.
Then, without warning...
The monster had entered its second phase with a full health bar.
"Anti-tank launchers!"
The commander finally snapped.
"If they can kill tanks..."
"They can kill those things."
He had deliberately avoided using rockets earlier.
Partly because he hadn’t believed they were necessary.
More importantly...
They were fighting inside their own military base.
Right outside the entrance to the Special Storage Facility.
A single misplaced rocket could detonate ammunition, destroy irreplaceable artifacts, or devastate the warehouse itself.
But those concerns no longer mattered.
Four soldiers rushed forward carrying rocket launchers.
Before one could fire, machine-gun rounds tore him apart.
The remaining three squeezed their triggers.
Three rockets streaked toward the Tyrants.
Every American soldier watched.
Every Hydra operative held their breath.
Then...
The impossible happened.
Each Tyrant shifted aside at precisely the right instant.
All three rockets missed.
Silence swept across the battlefield.
The Tyrants weren’t especially agile.
Their swollen muscles and enormous armor made them appear cumbersome, and they performed poorly in drills requiring rapid changes of direction.
But that had never meant they were slow to react.
No ordinary human dodged anti-tank rockets on instinct.
The frontline commander slowly lowered his binoculars.
His voice became unusually calm as he picked up the field telephone.
"General..."
"I need reinforcements."
"Our opponents are not ordinary humans."
"They’ve been playing with us."
"They deliberately concealed their true capabilities."
"They’ve only been buying time."
He swallowed.
"I request immediate support."
"Afterward..."
"I’m willing to face a court-martial for this operation if necessary."
At that exact moment...
A voice burst through Ethan’s headset.
The words he had been praying to hear.
"Commander!"
"I found it!"
"I found the Obelisk!"
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter