As they approached the location of their targets, the tension among the group intensified. The wasteland winds whispered tales of warning, cautioning against the dangers ahead. In addition to monsters and creatures, being near Camelot made the threat of the Dust Knights linger in their hearts.

Driven by their thirst for Powerjuice, the men continued forward. The boss, wielding his formidable grenade launcher, stayed slightly behind, making sure his followers were in the middle between possible shots.

His grip tightened around the weapon, its weight providing both a sense of security and a reminder of the devastation it could unleash.

"My great-grandfather was a miner and used explosives. This isn't the same, but boy, I enjoy the explosions."

The others weren't listening. Since their armors were barely capable of deflecting a powerful shot, being hit and wounded would mean being left there to rot. They made sure their weapons were ready for the imminent confrontation. The buzzing of energy pulsed within the metal cords, an eerie reminder of the force they were prepared to unleash against their adversaries.

"Remember, we strike with precision," ordered the boss, his voice imbued with authority. "We take what rightfully belongs to us and leave nothing but ashes in our wake."

"Boss, that's cool. Is it yours?"

"Yes, I want to write a book with my speeches."

"You can't write."

"Then I'll pay someone to do it!"

"Isn't that quote from General Striker? Before the battle of..."

"Shhh."

They stopped talking and advanced toward the elevated position where the father and the kid were hidden. They halted, staring at the shadows casting unsettling silhouettes against the rocky landscape.

Meanwhile, deep within the crevices of the rock formation, the father and son heard their voices. They prepared for the inevitable confrontation as their gazes met.

As the men approached, the father tightened his grip on the crossbow, his mind focused on the strategies ingrained in him over years of training. He looked at his son, a mix of concern and determination etched on his face, then whispered.

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"Activate the decoy."

The piercing sound of a desperate scream broke the tense silence, shaking the pursuers and sharpening their alertness. They advanced, with their weapons ready, scanning every crack and rock for any sign of the father and his son.

Their search led them to a parked aero-car, but the source of the scream remained elusive. Frustration gnawed at their nerves as they explored the area until a cunning member of the group discovered the decoy device under a group of small rocks.

"It's a decoy, boss!" exclaimed the man, his voice tinged with annoyance and disappointment.

He threw the small device to the ground and crushed it with his boot, a primitive display of frustration. He squinted his eyes as he surveyed the surroundings, looking for any indication of the elusive targets.

Then it happened.

A bolt cut through the air, finding its mark in the man's chest. He staggered back, pain and surprise warping his face as he fell to the ground, his screams of agony echoing in the wasteland. The others turned around, their attention focused on finding the direction of the attack.

"Where are they?!" roared the boss, his voice imbued with rage and a hint of desperation.

Panic flickered in his eyes as he tried to locate the source of the attack.

"Over there! They're up, behind that rock!" someone exclaimed, pointing upward, towards the hidden position of the father and son.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, the boss quickly changed tactics. He raised his grenade launcher, a menacing smile playing on his lips as he launched a projectile towards the rocky promontory.

He fired his weapon at the rocks, firing with precision. The explosion sent shockwaves through the air, covering the surface with a green, burning substance. The rock began to disintegrate under the corrosive effects of the liquid, releasing a cloud of toxic smoke into the atmosphere.

Coughs and gasps from the father and son were heard everywhere as they struggled to breathe amidst the acrid air. Instinctively, they covered their faces with their clothes, trying to protect themselves from the worst of the toxic assault.

However, a second shot with another explosion erupted, intensifying the noxious fumes and pushing them to the limit.

"We've got them, boys!" triumphantly exclaimed the boss, his eyes fixed on the hidden position of the father and son.

The other men, with their weapons still aiming towards the rocky promontory, shared his confidence, eagerly anticipating the capture of their targets. The anguished cries of the wounded raider died out. Dead.

Just as the boss was reveling in his anticipated triumph, a voice broke the air, calling his attention. It was Jano, the man who had been scouting the area, screaming from above, under the scorching sun.

"Boss! You need to see this!" Jano's urgency was palpable, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"We're busy, Jano!" barked the boss, his impatience evident.

"It's important!" persisted Jano, his voice tinged with urgency and disbelief. Reluctantly, the boss turned his attention to Jano, curiosity mixed with annoyance.

"What is it?!"

"A Dust Knight is approaching!"

Jano proclaimed, his announcement hanging in the air, casting a sudden shadow over the boss's triumphant expression.