CHAPTER 317: FIRE IN THE MOUNTAINS

"Ta ta ta ta ta!"

The sound of machine guns rattled like chains being torn apart, a relentless storm of noise.

Rifle fire cracked sharply, viciously, as the convoy’s trucks shuddered under the downpour of bullets, sparks flying as metal screamed in agony.

Grenades erupted with earth-shaking sounds.

BOOM! BOOM!.

Sending shockwaves through the jagged terrain and thick clouds of dust that choked the air.

Amidst this chaos, Arthur moved like a phantom.

His coat whipped behind him, dark against the swirling haze. With both pistols roaring in his hands,sharp and precise,each shot claimed a life.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Suddenly, an enemy soldier leapt from behind a boulder, screaming with rifle raised high.

Arthur pivoted effortlessly; his left pistol flashed three times in quick succession.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The man dropped mid-stride, body skidding across gravel as blood sprayed behind him. Arthur didn’t slow down; his movements were smooth and deliberate,merciless.

Gunner’s voice thundered over the comms, cutting through the din of battle.

"Suppress the ridges! Don’t let them encircle us! Push forward!"

"Roger!" Mireille’s crisp tone responded as her rifle spat "ta-ta-ta-ta!" She swept a ledge clean, bodies tumbling into the abyss below.

Stone’s heavy gun shook the air with its roar: "Drrrrrraaaat!"

A line of enemy troops was ripped apart; stone and flesh exploded together on the ridge above.

Lyra vaulted from cover, blades gleaming as she closed in on two ambushers.

Their rifles cracked wildly but missed him entirely; he swayed past their rounds and pierced throats in one fluid motion,blood spraying gracefully before he vanished back into cover.

The air was thick with the stench of iron and gunpowder.

Arthur advanced steadily. He fired with cold rhythm; every bullet felt like an execution.

An enemy raised a shotgun,Arthur shot through the man’s wrist before placing another round between his eyes just before he could scream.

Another tried to flank him wielding a machete; Arthur sidestepped smoothly, seized his throat, and slammed a dagger up beneath his jaw before tossing aside the lifeless body without breaking stride.

His soldiers felt it,the oppressive aura surrounding him was cold and unshakable. Arthur wasn’t just fighting; he was farming death itself.

But then came more,the numbers kept climbing from cracks in cliffs and hidden caves within rock formations.

They poured out screaming in strange tongues, weapons of mismatched origin clutched tightly in their hands.

The ridges burned bright with muzzle flashes while tracer rounds streaked through smoke like fiery meteors illuminating the night sky.

"Contact Rear!"A soldier shouted, panic lacing his voice. "They’re flanking us!"

"Hold them!" Gunner bellowed, urgency cutting through the chaos. "Rear guard, lay down fire! Don’t let them through!"

The convoy was now encircled, trapped in a deadly embrace.

The trucks formed a semi-circle, their armored plating standing as makeshift walls against the onslaught.

In the center sat the archaeologists’ truck, a fortress of steel absorbing bullets that would have shredded lesser vehicles.

Inside, Professor Adrain gripped his seat with white-knuckled intensity, sweat trickling down his temples like tiny rivers.

Clara pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror as she peeked through a narrow window.

The scene outside twisted her stomach into knots: bodies sprawled across the road, blood pooling in gravelly puddles.

A headless corpse lay contorted grotesquely, steam rising from the stump of its neck into the cold air.

One of the younger archaeologists gagged, struggling to keep bile at bay. Another turned pale, fists trembling as they buried their face in their hands.

But no one dared scream; the cacophony outside,the relentless "ta-ta-ta-ta!" of gunfire and thunderous explosions,was terrifying enough.

Arthur’s men fought like machines on autopilot.

Ethan crouched beside the archaeologists’ truck, firing disciplined bursts with precision that could only come from experience.

"Stay down in there!" he barked without looking back. "Peek again and you’ll faint before the bullets hit you."

Even his usual humor couldn’t mask the grit in his tone; this was no ordinary fight.

---

Arthur slid behind a wrecked truck with fluid grace, reloading his pistols with smooth clicks that echoed like a heartbeat in chaos. His eyes were shards of ice,cold and calculating,assessing every shift on this battlefield.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two shots rang out through swirling dust; each bullet found its mark in an enemy skull atop a ridge. They toppled like broken dolls, rifles clattering uselessly down the slope.

Suddenly an enemy charged forward with a gleaming bayonet aimed directly at him. Arthur sidestepped effortlessly and parried with his pistol barrel before driving his dagger deep into the man’s ribs.

Before the scream could escape his lips, Arthur shoved him away and fired another round into another soldier’s chest.

Cold efficiency defined him,no wasted motion; every strike executed with an elegance akin to dance rehearsals perfected over time.

Another wave rushed toward the trucks amidst war cries echoing off stone walls.

Arthur advanced to meet them head-on; his pistols cracked...

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three enemies fell instantly while another swung an axe wildly at him.

Arthur ducked low and kicked sideways before delivering a clean shot that crushed bone and flesh alike,a mist of blood painting his cheek without altering his expression at all.

Around him, his Aura thickened, a palpable tension filled the air. Soldiers flanking him felt it,a chilling dominance that tightened their throats and quickened their pulses.

It wasn’t magic or some supernatural force; it was the undeniable weight of presence, the unmistakable mark of a man who had danced with death for far too long.

The attackers hesitated. Some faltered in their charge, their resolve crumbling at the sight of him.

Yet still, like an unrelenting tide, sheer numbers threatened to engulf the convoy below.

-------

High above, nestled among the jagged spines of Ayzion, another group observed intently.

Their armor gleamed heavier than most, weapons pristine and ready for battle; they stood poised and alert.

At their forefront was Ravik Thorne,a towering figure clad in black steel plating.

A crimson fang etched across his mask gave him an air of menace as his voice sliced through the wind like a whip.

"Damn it! Those bastards got here first."

Ravik led the Crimson Jackals, mercenaries whispered about in border towns as vultures feasting on death’s leftovers.

He clenched his fist tightly as he watched Arthur’s men dismantle their foes below. "That’s not our unit down there," he growled. "Someone else laid this ambush."

One lieutenant adjusted his scope and replied, "Whoever they are, they’re getting chewed up out there. Look at those suits and rifles,advanced gear! Definitely not just border troops."

Another sneered disdainfully, "That emblem, Aegis-7. High-grade exosuits! No wonder they’re holding strong; normal bullets barely scratch them!"

Ravik narrowed his eyes at Arthur as he cut through another soldier with chilling precision.

"That man... He’s no ordinary commander."

"What do we do now?" one lieutenant asked nervously.

Ravik growled lowly, "We wait. No sense jumping into a meat grinder. Let those fools below waste their lives,then we’ll pick up the pieces."

And they weren’t alone in this grim observation; other figures lurked on distant ridges,each cloaked under different banners and colors,silent factions with unknown names watching this slaughter unfold with calculating eyes. Ayzion was anything but empty.

---

Back to the chaos of the convoy...

"Ta-ta-ta-ta!" Mireille’s rifle spat fire as she swept through another cluster of enemies, sending them tumbling from cliffs like discarded toys.

Lyra tore through their flank; blades dripping with blood as he vanished into smoke only to reappear behind foes like a ghost from nightmares.

Stone’s machine gun roared relentlessly mowing down cover and flesh alike.

Ethan shouted over comms amidst the din of battle: "Rear line cleared! They’re folding!".

"Push forward!" Gunner shouted, his voice steady even amidst the chaos of gunfire. "Don’t let up!"

Arthur was already ahead, pistols blazing like twin comets.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sharp reports of his shots echoed through the air, each one punctuated by another enemy collapsing to the ground.

He moved with a fluid grace, as if the storm of violence surrounding him was merely another day at the office.

The attackers fell in waves, their cries piercing the air before being silenced by bullets and blades.

Blood painted the rocks in vivid splashes, turning the pristine snow into rivers of crimson. The smell,a heavy mix of iron and smoke,clung to everything like a shroud.

Yet Arthur’s men were not without their wounds; bullets thudded against their armor, pushing them back with brutal force.

Thud! Thud!

Bruises blossomed beneath their plating as ribs rattled from impacts.

Some gritted their teeth against the pain flashing across their faces, but none faltered. Their suits held firm; only the dull ache of battle slowed them down.

Inside the archaeologists’ truck, horror unfolded in real-time.

Clara pressed her hands over her mouth in disbelief as she witnessed a man’s skull explode under a hail of gunfire, brains splattering against the truck’s side like grotesque paint.

Professor Adrian,Josef Brandt and Dr. Ren slumped beside her, trembling uncontrollably as Professor Adrian notes slipped from his grasp.

Dr. Helena Moritz, Lukas and other young assistants huddled together, foreheads pressed to their knees, whispering desperate prayers amid the cacophony.

The urge to vomit clawed at their throats, but fear kept it at bay,none dared break their silence in this waking nightmare.

---

Minutes felt like hours as gunfire and screams reverberated through the valley.

Slowly but surely, the attackers’ numbers dwindled; their assault crumbled under Arthur’s relentless firepower and precision.

Arthur advanced last, stepping over fallen foes with an eerie calmness.

Smoke curled around him while blood splattered onto his boots,a grim reminder of what had just transpired.

His pistols lowered slowly as he watched the last ambusher fall to his knees, clutching at his throat where crimson bubbled forth.

Silence descended heavily upon the battlefield,a suffocating blanket after chaos had reigned supreme.

Bodies lay scattered across the ground,twisted and broken,with weapons strewn about like discarded toys after a fierce game.

The metallic scent of blood hung thickly in the air.

With a faint exhale that cut through the stillness, Arthur scanned the ridges above him with narrowed eyes; he knew this wasn’t over yet.

Too many eyes had witnessed today’s carnage,too many factions lurked within Ayzion’s shadows.

He holstered his pistols with quiet finality. His aura still pressed cold over the field, a silent declaration to any unseen watchers.

If they came, he would kill them too