157: Chapter 157 War is just a game

Umbrella Corporation Headquarters, Situation Room.

On a massive curved screen, dozens of real-time feeds were split into independent windows, each representing a perspective of death. Some came from the cameras on Hunk's squad's helmets, shaking violently; others came from the biological sensors of the "Walkers," the footage eerily stable, looking down at the chaotic battlefield from an inhuman height. In thermal imaging mode, panicked life forms appeared like flickering red torches.

Sarah stood before the massive command console, her back straight like an emotionless statue.

In her pupils, countless streams of green data cascaded like waterfalls. The super-brain granted by the Ouroboros Virus allowed her to effortlessly process this massive flow of information simultaneously and filter out the optimal attack paths.

"Walker One, eliminate peripheral Automated Sentry Guns three and four. Walker Two, tear through the eastern wire fence and create a breach."

Her voice was transmitted precisely into the receivers of every combat unit.

"Alpha Squads One, Two, and Three, enter through the breach. Three o'clock direction, target Barracks One, complete clearing within thirty seconds."

"Alpha Squads Four and Five, follow Hunk and prepare to breach the main building."

Her commands were concise and efficient, transforming a bloody raid into a calculable and executable program.

Not far behind her, Chen Feng seemed completely out of place.

Holding a steaming cup of freshly ground coffee, he was buried lazily in a soft leather sofa with his legs crossed, leisurely watching the scenes of bloody slaughter on the screen as if watching a big-budget war movie.

The smoke, explosions, and moments of human bodies being torn apart seemed to be nothing more than pleasing special effects in his eyes.

He looked at Sarah's perfect and cold profile and sighed softly to the air:

"Isn't this just like the real-time strategy games we used to play?"

He took a sip of coffee, smacked his lips, and continued, "It's just that our units... are a bit more realistic. No need to marquee-select and A-move; they come with built-in target acquisition and optimal solutions. It saves a lot of trouble."

Sarah didn't look back, nor did she even blink.

Her entire mind was immersed in this feast of slaughter she had personally directed. Chen Feng's small talk was nothing more than white noise in the background to her.

She simply raised her hand and tapped lightly on the virtual keyboard.

"Hunk, the 3D defensive structural map of the main building has been sent to your tactical terminal. You have three minutes to clear the building."

...

Gaza District, Middle East, Forward Command of Israel's 7th Armored Brigade.

"Da da da da da—!"

Piercing alarms and the roar of heavy machine guns echoed throughout the base as dense tongues of fire wove a web of death, attempting to stop the monsters rushing in.

Hunk's figure was like a phantom, flashing through the hail of bullets. The ten "soldiers" behind him ignored the oncoming fire and charged straight toward the fortifications at the entrance of the main building.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

The two "soldiers" in the lead were jerked backward as if by invisible giant hands. Their body armor was as fragile as paper before the machine gun bullets, and in an instant, a dozen bloody holes were blasted through them.

They didn't even let out a groan as their tall bodies toppled backward under the massive kinetic energy.

But strangely, the trajectory of their fall was perfectly aligned to block Hunk's path, using their bullet-riddled bodies to shield their commander from all subsequent fire.

Hunk didn't even spare a glance at the two corpses. He grabbed the tactical vest of one still-twitching "soldier" with one hand, used this 180-pound "shield" to cover his front, and charged forward with great strides.

Bullets hit the "meat shield" with a series of dull thuds, sending flesh and blood flying.

Hiding behind sandbag barriers, the SDF soldiers watched in horror as that devil charged toward them while holding their comrade's corpse, frantically pulling their triggers until their chambers clicked empty.

Too close.

Hunk had barely fired a single shot.

He charged into the fortification with his "meat shield," his MP5 submachine gun letting out a short burst only at the moment he passed a machine gunner who was changing magazines.

Pfft.

A blood flower bloomed between the machine gunner's eyebrows.

Most of the time, he was like a reaper moving through a crowded throng; every time he passed an enemy, it was accompanied by a crisp, teeth-gritting sound of bone snapping.

His left hand still held that tattered "meat shield," while his right hand was like the most precise scalpel, weaving through the soldiers who had fallen into chaos and fear.

Lifting, twisting, or smashing.

"Crack!"

A soldier trying to draw a combat knife to resist felt his jaw being lightly supported by a cold, large hand. Immediately, an irresistible force followed, and his head was twisted to a bizarre angle behind him. The world spun in his eyes before finally fading into darkness.

"Snap!"

Another soldier had just raised his rifle when his wrist was caught by Hunk and snapped backward. A shrill scream was about to escape his lips when Hunk slammed his gun butt into the man's Adam's apple, cutting it short.

In less than ten seconds, all seven soldiers behind the barrier had fallen. Without exception, their necks were broken.

The entire process was seamless, filled with the aesthetics of violence, forming a stark and terrifying contrast to those B.O.W.s that only knew how to tear enemies apart with brute force.

Hunk casually tossed aside the nearly disintegrated "meat shield" and kicked open the heavy iron doors of the main building.

Inside, a dozen SDF soldiers were in a state of total confusion, clearly having not yet reacted to the shock of the breach.

"Enemy attack! At the door!"

An officer was the first to react, raising his gun to fire.

But he was met by the synchronized muzzles of the eight "soldiers" behind Hunk.

"Da da da da da—!"

There were no warnings and no tactical evasions—only the purest, densest concentrated fire.

The narrow corridor instantly turned into a living hell, with shell casings clattering across the floor.

An SDF officer hiding behind a corner barrier trembled as he picked up his radio, about to desperately call for rear artillery support to level the place.

"Calling command... ugh!"

Before he could finish his sentence, a large hand wearing a black tactical glove gripped his throat like a steel vise, lifting him entirely off the ground from behind the barrier.

The suffocating sensation of his feet leaving the ground made him struggle desperately, his hands clawing wildly at the arm, but he couldn't budge it an inch.

His eyes widened in terror as they met a pair of goggles emitting an ominous red glow in the darkness.

There was no emotion in those eyes—cold, hollow, as if looking at a dead object.

"Crack—"

Amidst the officer's ultimate terror, he clearly heard the sound of his own cervical vertebrae shattering.

The world before his eyes faded into darkness.