Finally, they reached the border between the Red Nation and True Horde territory, passing by the ruins of old buildings. In front of the convoy was a tank equipped with a massive roller designed to trigger any mines or explosives on contact. If it hit an explosion, only the roller would take the damage. The atmosphere shifted, charged with palpable tension. In the distance, hordes of True Horde soldiers were preparing for an assault, their vehicles gathering like storm clouds on the horizon.
“Hmmm… we’ve arrived,” Hazel observed, her heart pounding.
“Yeah… it seems the time has come for us to fight,” Patrick replied, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of impending conflict. “And we had no time for rest. I doubt you can sleep now, thanks to that pill. So, stay awake!”
“So who’s making the first move?” Hazel asked, excitement mixing with anxiety.
“It looks like we’re going to attack,” Patrick said, his gaze fixed on the enemy. “I have no idea how this will go down. It’s either we’ll win gloriously or we’ll all be turned into Swiss cheese. But we must strike now; we can’t let the True Horde attack us first.”
“Good…” Hazel nodded, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
“Prepare for battle! Get ready to fight! Victory is within our grasp,” Patrick urged, his voice rising with fervor. The sounds of the True Horde grew louder, echoing ominously across the battlefield.
“Why hasn’t our tank shot yet?” Hazel questioned, glancing at the massive machine.
“If we open fire now, the gunshot will reveal our location. They’ll know we’re attacking. So we need to hold our fire until the right moment,” Patrick explained, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement.
“I see…” Hazel replied, her mind racing as she observed the terrain around them. The landscape was flat, dotted with sparse bushes and small trees, but mostly it was just a vast expanse of open ground. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? We can hear them, but we can’t see them,” she mused.
“Yeah, it seems they haven’t reached us yet, or they’ve stopped for some reason. But I don’t know why they’re holding back,” Patrick said, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.
Hazel checked her weapon, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. Suddenly, a thunderous crack echoed nearby, startling them both. She turned her head, squinting into the rain, and spotted something fast approaching.
“Permission to fire!” she shouted, adrenaline surging.
Hazel squeezed the trigger, sending bullets streaking toward the approaching riders. She hit several, and they tumbled from their bikes, but the remaining bikers swerved and began to flee. Then, as if summoned by the chaos, another wave of bikers appeared, even larger than the first.
“Here they come! They’re on a fast track to our position!” Hazel shouted, heart racing.
As the first wave started shooting back, Hazel ducked behind the tank, returning fire. The air was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the frantic sounds of battle. Some bikers got too close for comfort, hurling explosives toward the tank. Hazel noticed they were clad in body armor, making them a tough target.
“No you don’t!” Hazel shouted, drawing his revolver, a larger caliber than her rifle, and firing at the nearest climber attempting to scale the tank.
The biker fell, surprised by the sudden shot, causing others to hesitate. “They’re getting too close!” he warned, his heart racing.
“Stay sharp! We need to keep them off the tank!” Patrick shouted, taking aim.
Hazel grabbed a nearby explosive and hurled it at the bikers in the middle of the road, catching them off guard. The explosion sent several tumbling, but others pressed forward, determined to reach the tank.
“They’re relentless!” Hazel exclaimed, frustration mounting.
As more bikers closed in, Hazel’s resolve hardened. “Patrick, don’t go too far! Our priority is to cover the tank! Go take out the ones around us and order the tank to fire at the road!”
“Got it!” Patrick replied, sprinting to relay the command.
Suddenly, True Horde soldiers appeared among the ruins, ambushing them, and the situation descended into total chaos.
“They’re damn near!” Hazel shot back, her voice rising in urgency. “Cover me while I reload!”
Just then, a sniper from a nearby building seized the moment, opening fire on the approaching True Horde soldiers. Bullets struck true, and several enemies fell, forcing others to retreat temporarily.
“Good shot!” Hazel cheered, relief flooding her as some of the pressure lifted.
But the True Horde was regrouping, shouting with fervor as they prepared for their next wave.
Suddenly, another wave of bikers surged forward, their speed alarming. Some attempted to climb the sides of the tank, while others threw explosives with reckless abandon.
“Are they ever going to learn?” Hazel muttered incredulously, bracing herself for impact.
The explosions echoed around them, the sound deafening and disorienting. The tank shuddered under the force, but it stood firm, its armor holding. after another gruelling fight. true horde army retreat,
Now there was a brief moment to catch their breath. The relentless rain continued to pour, but the True Horde soldiers were no longer charging headlong. They were cautious now, firing but taking their time.
Hazel looked down at her cracked helmet, then spotted a nearby corpse. With a quick decision, she snatched up a sturdier helmet and swapped it for her own, feeling a sense of renewed confidence as she put it on. The new helmet fit perfectly, its steel frame a reassuring weight.
“Hey, check it out! I look like a proper soldier now,” she joked, glancing at Patrick.
Patrick grinned, though his eyes were still filled with concern. “You look good! Just remember, a helmet won’t save you if you fall asleep on the job.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Hazel chuckled, but then turned serious again, observing their surroundings. Patrick was still near her, ensuring she wouldn’t drift off. It was clear he cared about her well-being, and that made her feel a little better amidst the chaos.
Patrick surveyed the battlefield, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the movements of the True Horde. “Their strategy is quite predictable,” he began, his voice steady and confident. “They always launch attacks at high speed, often from unexpected directions. But most of the time? They charge in a single direction. That gives us a chance—we can predict where they’re going and how fast they’ll come at us. It makes planning our tactics a whole lot easier.”
Hazel, her brow furrowed in concentration, leaned against the cold, metallic surface of the tank. “Hnn. Perhaps their general isn’t around,” she suggested, a note of hope edging into her voice.
“Exactly! That’s our biggest advantage,” Patrick said, a grin spreading across his face. “We took out their general. Without a leader, they’re bound to be confused. If we can capitalize on that, we can send them into chaos. Just imagine—without their big boss barking orders, they’ll be like headless chickens running around!”
Hazel’s eyes widened. “So, we’ve already killed their leaders?”
“Yep! We did! Now they don’t have a general leading them. Each regiment is stuck with a small-time leader, which means utter chaos in their ranks. If we play our cards right, we can finish them off much easier than before!” Patrick leaned back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in the advantage they had.
“I see…” Hazel nodded, her mind whirring as she processed the information.
“But we still have to keep our wits about us,” Patrick warned, his expression sobering. “Just because we’ve taken out their leader doesn’t mean they’re out of the fight. There’s always someone with ambition ready to claim the top spot, and those kinds of folks? They won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to get what they want. This is war, after all. We can’t let our guard down. One small mistake can lead to big consequences, and that goes for them too.”
As Patrick spoke, he noticed Hazel’s eyelids growing heavy. A yawn escaped her lips, and before he knew it, she was leaning against the tank, drifting into a nap. He watched, amused, as she fell asleep almost instantly, the tension of the battle momentarily forgotten. The tank’s warm metal provided a comforting support, and he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at how quickly she had succumbed to sleep.
“What time is it?” Hazel mumbled as she stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes.
“Oh, it’s been about thirty minutes,” Patrick replied, a grin on his face. “You’ve been out for almost twenty-five of those. You really sleep like a log! I almost thought you didn’t have any nightmares while you were at it,” he teased, a hint of admiration in his tone.
“Yeah, no,” she replied, rubbing her eyes as if to wipe away the remnants of sleep.
At that moment, Alam climbed atop the tank, surveying the surroundings like a lookout.
Patrick stretched, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. “Hmm… now I need to rest too,” he said, lying down on the ground near the tank. He propped his head on one hand, glancing over at Hazel as she began to munch on her Meal Ready-to-Eat (MRE).
“You seem distant, Hazel,” Patrick remarked, concern etched on his face. “What’s weighing on you?”
“Just… memories,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of my brother. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m letting him down.”
While she chewed thoughtfully, Patrick watched her, curiosity mingling with amusement. There was something comforting about sharing this moment, even amid the chaos that surrounded them.
“I see.” Hazel nodded, her mind clearly calculating. “So, tell me—how can I become a commander and get a promotion?”
hazel start to think if she would no chance on this brutal war as foot soldier
Patrick chuckled, launching into a lengthy explanation of the Khaganate’s ranking system and the various paths to advancement. Hazel listened intently, absorbing every detail. The conversation sparked something within her, a renewed determination to climb the ranks. The journey to the front lines became a journey toward her own ambition. Months later, that ambition would lead her to a place far from the battlefields of Asia—to the hallowed halls of Area 51.
early Agustus 2404: Area 51, North America
Once a top-secret facility shrouded in mystery, Area 51 had transformed into West Point 2.0, a bustling hub of elite military training and cutting-edge technology. The air buzzed with anticipation, thick with the scent of determination and the faint hum of machinery. Recruits gathered in the vast hall, which felt more like a coliseum than a classroom, each one a potential rival in this high-stakes arena.
The Khaganate had… interesting recruitment criteria. They had a rather large ex-prisoner population, so they had a special incentive. Freshly released convicts started at Private or, if they were really troublesome, Second Class Private. It was a practical solution to a social problem, though some purists grumbled about lowering standards. Ex-gang members and grid racers, however, were fast-tracked to Sergeant. Apparently, a knack for organized crime or high-speed vehicular mayhem translated surprisingly well to military leadership. The real prize, though, was unlocking the middle ranks – Captain and Major. That required surviving a series of accelerated courses and VR simulations that were rumored to be less "training exercise" and more "existential crisis simulator."
Hazel stood among them, her heart racing as she prepared for a critical academy test. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the eclectic mix of unsavory figures. some figure act as tester circling the room. acting to watch the test unfold. but on his collar. a predesigned code. similar like a barcode who only can see on UV light vision. hazel. then just answer the test with ease, if you had money and link on this nation. you pratically can do anything. and hazel had lot of money to spend.
It was a subtle reminder that even here, within the walls of the academy, secrets and hidden agendas lurked beneath the surface.
Armed with her knowledge of military tactics gleaned from reading The Art of War and her experiences in gang activity, she felt ready: an implant in her eyes that enhanced her vision, allowing her to zoom in on details with surgical precision. As she glanced at her fellow participants who already marked, she discreetly copied their answers, the thrill of the game sparking excitement in her veins.
When the results were posted, her heart raced. Hazel jumped slightly, her name glowing triumphantly on the board. “Yes!” she whispered to herself, a grin spreading across her face. She had passed the test, and the first hurdle was behind her.
Later that night, the atmosphere shifted dramatically as Zion took the podium, flanked by his formidable Amazonian Praetorian Guard. Nara, a fierce warrior with a reputation that preceded her, now stood as part of Zion’s elite bodyguard. The hall fell silent, every eye trained on the charismatic leader as he prepared to speak.
“My people,” Zion began, his voice booming with authority, “you are the chosen ones.”
A ripple of anticipation coursed through the crowd as he continued, “We have gathered here today, not just as soldiers, but as a unified force, a storm that will sweep across the known world. For too long, we have been scattered, our strength divided. Now, under the banner of the free world, we shall rise as one. We shall forge an empire that stretches from the rising sun to the setting moon.”
Hazel felt her heart swell with pride as Zion’s words filled the hall. The power of his speech was intoxicating, igniting a fire within her. “We shall ride across mountains, swim through rivers, and march through deserts. No obstacle shall stand in our way!” he declared, his passion infectious.
“But remember,” he added, his tone growing serious, “our strength lies not just in our swords and bows, but in our unity and discipline. Let us ride forth, my warriors, and claim our destiny! Let us conquer the world!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, a wave of enthusiasm that surged through Hazel. She knew she had made the right decision in joining this cause. But amidst the jubilation, she noticed something that gave her pause—among the stoic faces of the Amazonian guards, one girl with brown eyes wore an expression of unease. It was a fleeting glance, but it troubled Hazel. What could bring doubt to such a fierce warrior?
Shrugging off the thought, Hazel refocused on her path. She had her own revenge to seek, and nothing would distract her from that goal. The energy in the hall crackled with potential, and for Hazel, the journey was just beginning.
Later, as the moon hung high in the sky, Hazel stepped out onto the balcony, the sounds of celebration echoing behind her. While other new officers threw a party in the hall, she found a quiet moment to reflect. Gazing up at the moonlit sky, memories of her brother flooded back.
In the past, when her homeland had descended into chaos, warlords roamed freely, killing each other without remorse. She and her brother had formed a group of vigilantes, starting as a ragtag band and evolving into a formidable gang. They called themselves the Flying Dragon, and one by one, they took down warlord after warlord, creating a semblance of order amidst the madness.
But then, in the distance, Alam had begun his rebellion against the Red Nation, attacking its allies. The Flying Dragon found itself caught in the crossfire. Her brother was killed in action, and the current leader of the Flying Dragon surrendered to Alam after their base was destroyed. Hazel had been in New York for a weapons deal, blissfully unaware of the unfolding tragedy until it was too late.
Gazing up at the moon, memories of her brother washed over her. They had dreamt of bringing order to their chaotic homeland, a dream that had died with him on some forgotten battlefield. She tightened her grip on the glass in her hand, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "If you could see me now," she whispered, a sad smile touching her lips.
Far to the east, thousands of miles away, another front in the ever-expanding war was about to erupt.