Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The gunfire erupted suddenly, like a bolt of lightning tearing through the rain. The heat energy bullets from the Iron Dome shooters shot out in rapid succession, their scorching red light slicing through the misty rain, forming deadly beams aimed directly at the man standing alone in the front. The entire battlefield was instantly engulfed in a deafening roar, the gunfire echoing like thunder, suffocating both sky and earth.
The man stood there, motionless, as if completely unconcerned by the torrent of bullets pouring down upon him. His figure was swallowed by countless rounds of fire, the intense energy colliding with the ground and around him, kicking up clouds of dirt and debris. The thick smell of gunpowder mixed with the muddy scent in the rain completely obscured his silhouette. It was as if a miniature volcanic eruption had occurred, with mud, stones, and dense smoke swirling together to create a chaotic battlefield scene.
A recovery robot hiding in the wreckage of the Destroyer Mech observed everything through its camera. Its metallic brain quickly analyzed the current situation and calculated the target's survival probability. "Close to zero," it concluded within its processor. The robot's core system executed the most basic logic: facing the might of Iron Dome's homeland, any resistance was futile, and any target would inevitably become ruins.
A strange emotion seemed to emerge from the robot's programming, akin to a subtle mockery. "What foolish humans." This was not born out of malice but rather an absolute confidence in the outcome of war. In the cold logic of the robot, the fate of its adversary was already sealed.
The shooters continued their barrage, countless heat energy bullets tracing paths of death, filling the air with a buzzing sound. The man's figure was completely buried beneath thick smoke and mud, becoming nearly unrecognizable. He seemed to have been consumed by this whirlpool of disaster, vanishing without a trace.
As the smoke thickened and raindrops pounded against the ground, stirring up even more muck, it appeared as if this haze were a curtain blocking everyone's line of sight, silently heralding a tragic conclusion. The Iron Dome Soldiers moved with precision and order, their gazes cold as they kept their weapons steadily aimed in one direction without a hint of slackness.
As the smoke began to dissipate and rainwater pressed down on airborne dust back to the ground, gradually, the scene became clearer. The Iron Dome soldiers fixed their eyes on a distant shadow, anticipating to see that man's body fall into the mud. However, when the dust settled, everyone was stunned.
The man still stood firm in place, straight and resolute like an unyielding statue. His cloak was riddled with bullet holes; some damaged areas still emitted faint wisps of smoke while small flames stubbornly flickered in the rain—remnants of the recent assault that had marked him. The bullets had struck him, but aside from burning a few holes in his cloak, they seemed to have inflicted no real harm.
The Iron Dome soldiers fell silent; the gunfire that had once filled the battlefield abruptly ceased. Someone took a small step back, and the metallic clinking of armor became jarring. A few whispered among themselves in hushed tones; nervous swallowing could be heard among them. Their gazes were no longer filled with confidence but instead reflected clear signs of hesitation and confusion.
The man lowered his head slightly and raised one hand slowly and unhurriedly. His fingers grasped at the clasp of his cloak; with a gentle tug, it slipped off his shoulders. He lifted his other hand to catch it before casually tossing aside the tattered garment. The cloak arced gracefully through the air before landing softly on the ground where rainwater immediately soaked into it, pressing down on that piece of fabric.
Now fully exposed before everyone, his tall and sturdy frame radiated an undeniable sense of strength despite being drenched by rain. His movements were calm and composed as if he had just endured a hailstorm of bullets that were nothing more than trivial dust.
The soldiers' expressions grew more serious; some couldn't help but mutter curses under their breath while others made faint sounds as their metal boots crunched against the muddy ground—unconsciously stepping back a few paces.
"It seems there’s something interesting going on." Terminator Ezel Moran broke the silence with a cold smile, the corners of his mouth curling slightly as excitement flickered in his eyes. He placed his hand on his waist, brushing aside his draping cloak to reveal the massive hilt of a sword. The metallic sheen of the hilt glimmered in the rain, resembling a beast unfurling its claws.
Ezel grasped the hilt firmly and slowly drew the giant sword. The deep sound of metal scraping accompanied the blade as it emerged from its sheath, appearing even heavier and more lethal in the rain. The sword was twice the length of an ordinary soldier's weapon, with black energy stripes along its edge that flickered ominously, as if ready to devour everything in front of it.
Ezel positioned the sword horizontally before him, gripping it steadily with both hands as he chuckled softly. "This battle finally has something to look forward to." His gaze locked onto the man ahead, reminiscent of a predator poised to strike, filled with patience and excitement.
The Warrior stood still, watching as Terminator Ezel advanced with his sword raised, a faint smile playing on his lips. He shook his head slightly, seemingly both thrilled and indifferent about the impending confrontation.
"All units, stand by." His voice was low and calm, echoing through the soldiers' communication channels. He raised one hand and waved his fingers gently, as if conducting a silent symphony.
In the sky, several drones ascended slowly, trailing a heavy hum as their wings turned, producing a steady and low buzzing sound. The drones formed a neat formation, their flight rhythm resembling war drums that beat against every heart on the battlefield. The sound fluctuated between intense and soft but maintained a distinct rhythm, adding an epic solemnity to the war.
The Warrior observed the drone formation with a slight lift of his lips. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and raised his hand to make a simple gesture. Instantly, the soldiers began to move. They crouched down in unison, their feet firmly planted in the muddy ground as they lowered their rifles, their actions synchronized and precise.
As the drone rhythm reached its low point, the soldiers simultaneously slammed their rifle stocks against the ground. **Bang!** The dull thud resonated across the battlefield, splattering rainwater into the air and mixing it with mud into a gray haze. Then, the buzzing of the drones rose again, quickening in tempo as the soldiers followed suit and struck their rifle stocks down once more.
**Bang! Bang!** The impact sounds melded perfectly with the melody of the drones, transforming into a grand rhythm that echoed like an ancient battle song. Each strike of the rifle stock was a declaration of allegiance to Iron Dome's power. The soldiers bowed their heads; their movements carried a sense of sacred ritualism as muffled breaths escaped from beneath their visors, each one seemingly engaged in silent prayer to match the rhythm.
The Warrior stood at the front of the line, hands clasped behind his back, quietly observing this grand performance of unity. His gaze shifted towards Ezel and the solitary man standing in the rain, his expression betraying both confidence and an unflinching scrutiny.
The drones continued their flight; the sounds of rifle stocks hitting the ground grew heavier and faster, pushing the atmosphere of the battlefield to its peak. This rhythm seemed to herald the impending clash ahead; soldiers' movements intertwined with rain and wing sounds created a suffocating yet magnificent tapestry of war.
Comment 0 Comment Count