159: Chapter 159 Devilish Acts

Hunk cut the communication without a hint of hesitation, as if he had just casually crushed an ant.

The prisoner slung over a "soldier's" shoulder, Ferris, felt like a sack of potatoes about to be transported to a slaughterhouse. Amidst the jolting, he could smell a mixture of gunpowder, engine oil, and a cold, metallic scent he couldn't quite comprehend coming from the "person" carrying him.

There was no smell of sweat, no rise and fall of breath, and not even a heartbeat.

The moment this thought surfaced, Ferris himself shuddered.

How could there be no heartbeat?

They had just emerged from the main building, and the oncoming heat wave nearly singed his eyebrows.

The entire forward command post of the Isreelia 7th Armored Brigade had completely turned into a burning hell. Armored vehicles and tanks had become massive torches; the skeletons of buildings twisted and wailed in the flames, and the air was thick with the stench of charred meat and the pungent smell of chemicals.

Ferris and the other rescued brothers were thrown onto the ground, all of them staring in a daze.

They had been locked in the basement and only heard the commotion outside, but seeing this apocalyptic scene with their own eyes brought an entirely different level of impact.

This... is this really something humans can do?

Just then, the man leading them raised his wrist, seemingly operating something.

"Boom—!!!!"

A roar more terrifying than all the previous explosions combined echoed simultaneously from two directions of the base.

The earth bucked violently as a visible white shockwave blasted outward in a ring, sending sand and gravel flying dozens of meters into the sky!

Ferris was slammed hard against the ground by the shockwave, his ears ringing so loudly he couldn't hear anything. He struggled to lift his head and saw two massive mushroom clouds rising in the distance where the ammunition and fuel depots had been.

In that single instant, the entire base was completely wiped off the map.

Violence—extreme violence.

Leaving no room, giving no chance.

These people... just where did they come from?

Before Ferris could recover from the shock, the man named Hunk issued a new command. His voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced everyone's ears like an ice pick.

"Clear the scene. Dispose of all bodies. Leave no identifiable traces."

As soon as the order was given, those "soldiers" who had acted like robots from the very beginning moved immediately.

Working in pairs, they began dragging the corpses of the SDF soldiers from the edge of the fire. Their movements were horrifyingly efficient, without the slightest hesitation or discomfort.

One "soldier" grabbed the ankle of a corpse that had been blown in half, dragging it like a bag of trash. Expressionless, he hauled it to a blazing armored vehicle and, with all his might, hurled the body into the fire.

"Sizzle—"

The sound of burning fat rang out, and the charred stench grew even thicker.

Another "soldier" stacked two corpses together and, using strength that didn't seem human, lifted them and threw them like a javelin into a massive crater formed by an explosion.

This scene caused Ferris and the others, who had just been rescued from hell, to feel a chill through their entire bodies, their teeth chattering.

They had seen the SDF's cruelty; that abuse and torture was an evil born of sadistic pleasure and human depravity.

But the behavior of these people before them was an entirely different kind of horror.

It was an emotionless, programmed coldness. It was as if they weren't handling people who were once alive, but rather a pile of industrial waste that had to be destroyed.

They had saved them, yet they were erasing every trace of the enemy's existence in a manner more ruthless than the enemy themselves.

Ferris suddenly understood.

The people who saved them weren't allies at all. They might not even be... human.

They were a group of devils from hell; it just so happened that their enemy was the same as his own.

Hunk paid no attention to the prisoners' psychological states; his task list didn't include an item for "soothing allies' emotions."

He counted the heads and ordered a "soldier" nearby, "You, and you four, stay here."

He pointed to four other "soldiers."

"Protect them and wait for Hamas's people to arrive for the handover. Once the handover is complete, return to the supply point on your own."

After speaking, he took a supply crate from a soldier. The crate was opened to reveal neatly arranged ruisu, healing factor, high-energy compressed food, and water purification tablets.

Having done all this, Hunk didn't even give Ferris and the others another glance. He turned and waved a hand to the remaining troops behind him.

"We're moving. Next target: Sector B-3, enemy radar station."

The sixty-plus "soldiers" and the three "Walkers" made no unnecessary noise as they vanished once more into the night-shrouded ruins.

They came suddenly and left decisively.

They left behind only soaring flames, a field of wreckage, five silent "soldiers," a crate of precious supplies, and a dozen or so shell-shocked prisoners.

The surroundings were deathly still, save for the crackling of the fire.

Ferris stared blankly in the direction the group of devils had disappeared, then looked at the five motionless "guards" beside him, feeling as if he were in a bizarre nightmare.

After an unknown amount of time, the roar of engines came from the distance.

Several beat-up pickup trucks drove over from the other side of the ruins. A group of Hamas members jumped out, led by Ethan.

"Ferris! My brother! You're alive!"

Seeing Ferris sitting on the ground, Ethan rushed over excitedly and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Allah be praised! We came as soon as we got the message! Are you... are you all okay?"

Held in the hug, Ferris's body was stiff; it took several seconds for him to come to his senses. He looked at the tearfully excited Ethan, then at the comrades surrounding them, cheering for their survival.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was too dry to make a sound.

He wanted to tell Ethan that they were saved.

But he also wanted to tell Ethan that they had seen something more terrifying than the SDF.

He wanted to describe the one-sided massacre just now, the corpses thrown into the fire like trash, and the eyes of the man who called himself "Reaper," which were so cold they didn't have a trace of humanity.

But when the words reached his lips, they turned into a raspy murmur.

"Ethan... we..."

"What about us? Brother, don't be afraid, it's all over!" Ethan patted his back, comforting him. "Our allies, messengers sent by Allah—they razed this place to the ground! It's a miracle! A miracle!"

A miracle?

Looking at the expression of ecstasy and worship on Ethan's face, Felix felt a bone-chilling cold well up in his heart.

No.

That wasn't a miracle.

That was the devil throwing a grand party in the mortal world.

And they, the survivors, were merely the scraps the devil had casually left behind.

He looked up at the five "soldiers" who still stood like statues. Their dark red visors flickered in the firelight like five silent tombstones.

Felix shuddered as he finally understood.

Starting tonight, this war was no longer just their war against the SDF.

All of them, along with their enemies, had become pieces on a chessboard.

And the hand moving the pieces belonged to that group of devils who had just vanished into the night.