102: Chapter 102 The God Descends! A Battlefield Hero Kneels for His Family!

Chapter 102: The Descent of a Deity! Battlefield Tough Guy Kneels for Family! Victor loosened his holster.

He was very clear-headed.

He had been fighting for twenty years, from the Stockholm Snow Wolf Special Forces to the private military contractor "Gray Wolf," having handled over three hundred missions.

Being able to survive until now relied on intuition.

At this moment, his intuition only told him one thing.

The person in front of him didn't need a gun to kill them.

"...Thank you."

His voice was raspy.

"We owe you our lives. No, several lives."

He looked at the eyes behind that mask.

"What do you want us to do?"

A mercenary's logic is very simple; there is no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

An existence capable of pulling four lives out of an explosion seven minutes before Conrad's men arrived could not be just a kind-hearted passerby.

Su Chen looked at the three of them.

Victor was kneeling in the broken bricks, clutching that family photo with the burnt corner.

Marco's fingers were covered in blood, two of his nails had been torn off, and they were still trembling.

Katarina stood the furthest away, her long silver-white hair draped over her shoulders, her gun barrel hanging down, looking completely stunned.

The three of them, the strongest trio of "Gray Wolf," were now no different from stray dogs.

The corners of Su Chen's mouth moved behind his mask.

"Follow me."

He turned and walked toward the three of them.

Victor's muscles tensed all over his body.

Marco's hand subconsciously reached for the pistol at his waist.

Katarina's index finger rested on the trigger guard.

It wasn't hostility; it was his body sounding an alarm.

Two steps.

One step.

Su Chen stood in the middle of the three.

Su Chen raised his hand.

There was no light, and no sound.

Victor only felt the ground beneath him vanish, the scenery around him twisted for a moment, then returned to normal.

There was a low buzzing sound in his ears, like something huge had turned.

Victor's knees felt the ground again.

It wasn't broken bricks.

It was charred earth, next to half a collapsed stone wall, and the air held a different concentration of gunpowder smoke.

The location had changed.

The angle of the light had changed.

The distant horizon was different.

"Teleportation?"

Katarina's pupils constricted, her voice kept very low.

Su Chen didn't stop.

He walked toward a stone wall in front of him that had been blown away until only half remained; it looked like the ruins of some monastery, with Latin inscriptions still faintly discernible.

Then he walked inside.

He passed through.

The wall rippled like water, swallowing the silhouette of his black trench coat.

The three of them exchanged a look.

Victor was the first to move.

His legs felt like they were filled with lead, but he didn't hesitate.

The moment he passed through the "wall."

The world was cut.

Beneath his feet were dark gray ancient stone bricks, rough and flat, with thin golden lines flowing between the cracks.

Overhead was a stagnant pale golden firmament; there was no sun or moon, and light fell evenly from every direction.

In front of him was a straight stone corridor, with stone walls smooth as mirrors on both sides.

The smell of the air had completely changed.

No gunpowder, no burnt smell, only an aura so heavy, quiet, and ancient that it chilled one's bones.

Victor's military boots stepped onto the stone bricks, the echo bouncing twice in the corridor.

He stopped moving.

Because the mural on the left side lit up.

A knight in silver-white holy armor held a blade of light high, holy light bursting from the cross patterns on the armor, tearing twisted, eerie creatures into shreds.

Victor stared at that painting.

He wasn't an archaeologist; he couldn't understand the era or distinguish the school of art.

But he understood combat.

The knight's sword-holding posture, center of gravity distribution, and foot placement in the mural all conformed to combat logic.

This was not artistic imagination.

It was that someone had really fought like this.

The second painting, a Daoist priest summoning heavenly thunder to split the sky.

The third painting, a priest raising a barrier to protect the populace.

The fourth painting, a heavy-armored warrior kneeling on one knee, holding up a broken shield to stand in front of everyone.

Marco also stopped.

He had been in the army for eight years; what military museums or war memorials hadn't he visited?

But no place had ever made him unable to catch his breath.

Now he felt a bit of tightness in his chest.

The last wall.

A ball of golden fire.

Beneath the flames, countless broken figures knelt on one knee.

No faces.

Nameless.

Katarina's feet couldn't move either.

She had lived for thirty-eight years, touched a gun for the first time at fourteen, killed someone for the first time at sixteen, and had never cried.

Now her eyes were a bit blurry.

She didn't recognize the people in the paintings, didn't know their names, and didn't know where they came from.

But something inside her chest was surging upward, blocking her throat, unable to be swallowed.

Perhaps regarding war, the three of them had other feelings.

They passed through the end of the stone corridor.

A circular altar.

Three stone steps.

An ancient tree stood withered in the center.

It had no leaves, only a charred trunk, with bark texture as deep as if carved by a knife.

But there was a very faint golden light flowing within the texture.

It was breathing.

The golden characters on the broken pillar burned quietly in the faint light.

"Civilization does not extinguish, Kindling burns forever."

Victor didn't know Chinese.

But when the golden light of those eight characters shone on his face, his body reacted before his brain did.

His spine straightened.

Then he saw the open space below the altar.

Four figures.

A blonde woman, Elena.

She was holding a seven-year-old girl, bowing her head and saying something.

A black-haired woman, Sofia.

In her arms, she was holding an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes.

"Daddy!"

Mia's scream exploded across the altar plaza.

The seven-year-old girl broke free from her mother's embrace, her short legs running pitter-patter on the stone bricks.

Victor crouched down.

His one-hundred-ninety-centimeter body folded down, his knees hitting the ancient stone bricks, his arms spread open.

Mia crashed into his arms.

With great force.

Her little fists pounded on his chest, her voice a mix of crying and laughing.

"Daddy, why did you only just come! I was so scared! Someone blew up the house! Then a big brother took us flying—"

Victor didn't hear the rest of what she said.

He just held her.

Held her very tightly.

He buried his face in his daughter's hair, smelling that scent belonging to a seven-year-old child, a mixture of sweat and cheap shampoo.

A man who hadn't shed a tear in twenty years had his shoulders trembling.

Marco had already rushed over.

Sofia was standing there holding little Marco, with dried tear stains still on her face.

Marco pulled his wife and child into his arms, his lips pressed against the infant's forehead, his rough palm pressing on the back of Sofia's head, pressing her into his chest.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The same sentence.

Gushing out from his throat, uncontrollable.

Katarina stood three steps away.

She had no family.

But Mia reached out her little hand from Victor's arms.

"Auntie Katarina!"

The voice was sweet enough to melt a warhead.

Katarina walked over.

She didn't know what her expression looked like.

She only knew that Mia's little hand hugged her neck, her cheek pressed against her jawline.

Warm.

Soft.

Alive.

Su Chen stood above the altar stone steps.

The withered branches of the ancient tree stretched out behind him, faint golden light falling on the shoulder line of his black trench coat.

The cracks in the mask cast intersecting shadows in the faint light.

He did not urge them.

He waited long enough.

Until Victor stood up, held his daughter in his arms, and turned to face the altar.

Until Marco let go of Sofia, wiped his face with his sleeve, and his gaze refocused.

Until Katarina put Mia down and straightened her back.

Three pairs of eyes looked at him simultaneously.

Su Chen spoke, his voice not loud.

"Do you want power?"

Victor looked up.

In those ice-blue eyes of his, there was no more fear, only something he himself couldn't describe.

"Power..."

He swallowed dryly.

Mia in his arms was curiously watching the golden sky overhead, her little finger pointing at the ancient tree, "Daddy, what a beautiful big tree."

Victor looked at his daughter, then looked at Su Chen.

"Power like yours?"

Su Chen only replied with five words.

"Power that can protect her."