: Death

Sergeant Latobis rubbed his fingers, struggling to smooth out the stiff nails and bones, and loaded his automatic gun with bullets again.

Then, the sergeant picked up the tattered weapon in his hand and leaned it against his face. It felt like stuffing a frozen iron pipe into his clothes, but he had no time to care.

.

He stood up, stepped on the ammunition box, and stuck his head and muzzle out of the trench. He didn't even need to aim, and he found his next target: because there were enemies that needed to be killed and sniped everywhere.

"Bang! Bang bang! Bang bang bang bang..."

Latobis pulled the trigger, firing sporadically at first, but soon turned into a continuous pour, because the scene in front of him made Latobis involuntarily feel fear, and he could only fire in his hands crazily.

Only those deadly steel projectiles can provide some relief.

The automatic gun kept spitting out tongues of fire, and the crazy recoil kept hitting the sergeant's face, making his teeth feel as painful as being pulled out. The worst-quality copper bullet cases fell to the ground with violent gunshots, scattering everywhere.

The trenches are full of them.

The sergeant's gun is not a very delicate and durable weapon. Every time it fires a bullet, it will be accompanied by the loudest and harshest sound. That is the sizzling sound of the radiator, ensuring that the gun is useless.

The inspected weapon will not blow out the barrel due to prolonged firing.

But Lathobis could no longer hear it. Even though the gun in his hand was trembling crazily to tell him how violent the sound was, he could no longer hear it. Blood was already flowing out of his ears, and the surrounding areas were full of blood.

It was a rumbling sound dozens or even hundreds of times louder.

This is a real trench, not the small trench where Latopis was stationed before. This trench is more than two meters deep, fixed with piles of sandbags, and surrounded by circles of barbed wire.

It criss-crosses with mines, like a spider lying on the ground.

More than five thousand soldiers are holding on in this huge war grave. They are holding the most backward guns and bombs in the empire. They either emerge from the sandbags and fire at any cost, or they are tossing back and forth on the muddy ground in the trenches.

, carrying ammunition, or going to support those places where the situation is worse. Under their feet are rickety drainage ditches and empty ammunition boxes.

In the center of the trench, there is an irregular artillery position and several machine gun bunkers made of concrete, which are constantly pouring out tongues of fire. They are the core of this trench that stretches for more than ten kilometers.

This is also the reason why these thousands of people can survive.

Latopis patted his ears, but still couldn't hear anything: the surroundings around him were too noisy, too noisy. There were thousands of guns firing at the same time, and dozens of artillery roaring together.

Thousands of soldiers or cannon fodder who are not soldiers are roaring at the top of their lungs, wailing, spitting, crying, struggling, vomiting...

This trench is resisting, just like the burning world. It roars and pays a price: because there is no time to clean up, lifeless corpses can be seen everywhere on the wet ground, some of which are only missing arms and legs.

Some lost their heads, and the sizzling blood flowed freely, dyeing the entire trench a foul-smelling, dark red.

After emptying the last bullet, Latobis retreated into the trench. His calves were weakening and shaking uncontrollably, just like his arms. He wanted to wipe away the sweat, but his hands couldn't.

I couldn't lift it up, so I could only let the sweat flow into my eyes, causing a numb and stinging pain.

But even so, Latobis still put his hand into the ammunition box on the side, numbly counting the bullets, and then installing them one by one. Everything was quiet and logical, and he couldn't even feel the movement of his arms.

He does these things as if he is just a bystander.

He wanted to take a deep breath, but instead he inhaled an indescribable stench: the smell of dead bodies, the urine of cowards, the smell of gunpowder, the smell of earth, and the indescribable smell of war in the air.

"Enemy attack!!"

I don't know who screamed, and as if he had been injected with the best adrenaline, Latopis almost jumped up and picked up his gun again.

——————

Latobis once thought that this trench was powerful and noisy enough. After all, what else could he ask for: there were more than 5,000 people here, with cannons, machine guns, and sufficient supplies. He even thought that he could

Stay here until you die of old age.

But it wasn't until the flames of war really started that Lathobis remembered something: before, in the world called Shana, they clearly had a larger army, more terrifying heavy artillery, and more complete fortifications, but they still

Defeated, defeated.

That's why.

Because they are against [nature].

And people, at least these people, can never defeat [nature].

Randan began to attack again, and Lathoubis could only hear a kind of horn blowing on the distant horizon, a horn that made people feel inexplicably depressed and frightened.

Then, there was the shock.

What kind of vibration was it? It was like a mountain running, and like thousands of bison running wildly together. Even the stones and bullet casings on the ground were jumping around because of this vibration, constantly

Makes a crackling sound.

Closer, closer.

"...Gulu..."

Latobis swallowed and raised his gun. Through the scope, he could vaguely see a black wave coming.

Ran Dan is here.

Ran Dan's attack is the mighty power of nature, a black wave, a collapsing mountain, and one after another terrible natural disaster that cannot be resisted.

The first thing that came was the scream, a terrifying howl that pierced the sky. It was a sound gathered by the wailing of countless humans and unknown other creatures, torturing everyone's eardrums over and over again: just

This is enough to destroy the weakest guys.

Then, Ran Dan's [Vanguard] appeared.

A ragged army appeared in the sight of all defenders. In other words, it was not an army at all, but an out-and-out slave army: stretching from one side of the sky to the other, there were all kinds of shabby clothes.

Some of them are human beings, some even wear the same uniform as Latopis, while the rest are grotesque aliens with three legs, five eyes, six arms or more.

The organs that come out to function.

But one thing is the same: the expressions on their faces, the numbness and despair, are enough to make even the bravest soldiers break into cold sweat unconsciously.

The Randan people don't know what technology they used, maybe it was some kind of witchcraft, or maybe it was some kind of poison. Anyway, those blasphemous aliens created something more terrifying than death.

"Fire!"

I don't know who gave the order, maybe it was the officer whom no one knew, or maybe it was just the random shouting of a panicked soldier, but the heavy rain of gunfire quickly drowned out the sound.

All the soldiers were firing, all the soldiers were screaming, and the constantly churning saliva evaporated in the hot air as the bullets flew by. Only in this way could their fear and anxiety be slightly relieved. In the center of the camp, those cannons couldn't wait to

The ground roared.

The barrage of steel was a ruthless crusher. Among the thousands of guns and cannons, those miserable cannon fodder were torn to pieces and completely bombed. The remaining unfortunate ones continued to move forward numbly until

Only when they reached the dense mines were they shattered to pieces.

Tens of thousands of cannon fodder were consumed in this way, and no one mourned their deaths. When Latobis filled the magazine again, there were only a few twisted flesh balls left in front of him:

The most unlucky ones actually escaped bullets and artillery fire and struggled to hit the barbed wire fence. Dozens, hundreds or even thousands of living people and aliens were jostling and crowding each other in the barbed wire fence. They were scarred.

Red or various colors of blood flowed out of the body, and it was glued together with the rotten meat that had been hung on the barbed wire, making people feel sick to their stomachs.

Finally, Latobis raised his gun, and countless people around him were doing the same. With another burst of fire and volleys, the last struggle gradually stopped.

Latobis even thought he had done a good deed: he allowed these guys to go to a quiet world while he suffered here.

But at this moment, he heard the barbed wire groan under its load: this carefully arranged death trap had withstood two rounds of impact, and now, like the mine array in front, it had met its end.

Almost at the same time, Latopis heard the sound of the horn again.

This time, it seemed particularly heavy.

Soon, another army appeared on the skyline.

Latopis loaded his magazine again. He thought it would be another battle like before, but when those opponents appeared in his field of vision, he was stunned.

This is also an army of slaves mixed with fish and dragons, but unlike the previous pathetic ones, what appears in front of Lathobis this time is: a terrifying alien creature three to five meters high, covered with scales; there are at least six of them.

The alien-shaped hand holds six guns and has a formidable fang; and there are some strange-shaped guys floating higher up, also holding guns. It doesn't look like much at first glance, but if you look closely...

…

His grandma can fly!

At this moment, when seeing tens of thousands of these monsters rushing toward his trenches, Latobis had only one thought.

——————

Ruined.

——————

The trenches were breached.

Thousands of monsters swarmed here, turning this defensive fortification into the purest hell.

There has been no sound from those artillery positions since those flying aliens rushed in, and there was only a creepy crunching sound.

The machine gun fortresses made of concrete and steel lasted the longest, until a group of particularly crazy guys emerged among the slaves. The flamethrowers in their hands were like the death god, turning the fortresses one after another into dispersions.

A fiery tomb with flames and howls.

Latopis ran wildly in the trench, still holding the gun tightly in his hand, like a mouse without direction and target, running in panic, behind him there were screams and screams that resounded through the sky.

The roar made him dare not look back.

He turned one corner after another and bumped into countless guys. As the crowd trampled on those guys who unfortunately fell, his military helmet was lost in the chaos, and the last pack of ammunition in his waist was lost.
To be continued...