Chapter 6: The Knife in the Back

The moon hung high over the battlefield, casting long shadows over the war-torn landscape. There had been no pause in the fighting for days, and exhaustion clung to every soldier like a heavy cloak. But now, something was changing. The alliances that had barely held were starting to break apart, and the true nature of the Warmongers Tournament was revealing itself—no one could be trusted.

In the northern sector, Kang TaeHoon stood over the bodies of his enemies, his heart pounding in his chest. His squad from the South Korean Tiger Claw Unit had just secured a major victory over the Canadian Frost Guard. The battle had been fierce, but TaeHoon’s brilliant strategy—ambushing the Canadians from both sides in a narrow valley—had paid off. His soldiers cheered around him, their voices carrying through the cold night air.

“We did it!” one of his men shouted, raising his rifle in triumph.

TaeHoon smiled faintly, but inside he felt nothing. He looked at the bodies of the fallen Canadians—faces twisted in fear, blood pooling beneath them—and wondered how long his luck would hold. War was unpredictable, and here, in the tournament, betrayal was as common as death.

But for now, victory tasted sweet. His squad had survived another day, and that was something to be proud of.

Yet, as he stared into the dark distance, TaeHoon couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He could feel it, creeping around the edges of his mind—danger was coming.

On the other side of the battlefield, Captain Arman Delgado and his Brazilian Jungle Operatives were marching through dense forest, retreating after a tough skirmish. They had fought off the Indian Agni Brigade earlier in the day, barely making it out with their lives. Arman’s sharp instincts had saved them—again—but now his squad was worn down, low on ammo, and morale was slipping.

Suddenly, the trees rustled, and Lieutenant Satoshi Takeda of the Japanese Ronin Corps stepped out from the shadows. His squad emerged silently behind him, their faces blank as they stared down the Brazilians. Takeda and Arman had formed a loose alliance a few days ago, working together to fight off common enemies. But now, something felt off.

Arman narrowed his eyes. “What’s this, Takeda?”

Takeda’s cold expression didn’t change. “The alliance is over. We’re taking your supplies.”

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Arman’s heart sank. He had seen betrayal coming, but not from Takeda. Not like this. His hand slowly moved toward his gun, but he knew it was pointless. They were surrounded, outgunned, and exhausted.

One of Takeda’s soldiers moved in and grabbed Arman’s bag. “Don’t fight, Delgado. It’s over.”

For a moment, it felt like the world stopped. The betrayal was sharp, like a knife in the back, and Arman’s stomach twisted with anger and despair. But he couldn’t let it show. He had to think of his men.

Arman nodded slowly, keeping his voice steady. “Take what you need. We’ll remember this.”

Takeda stared at him for a long moment before turning away. The Japanese soldiers disappeared into the jungle, leaving the Brazilians with nothing but the bitter taste of betrayal.

Arman clenched his fists. One day, he would make them pay for this.

Meanwhile, in the western plains, Jaegal Taek and the Chinese Dragon Strike Corps had forged an alliance with Commander Svetlana Orlova of the Russian Iron Guard. Together, they had been dominating the battlefield, crushing smaller forces with ease. It was a powerful partnership—until it wasn’t.

As night fell, Taek and his men set up camp alongside the Russians, the crackling of their fires the only sound in the quiet. But Taek could sense something. He had always been able to read people, and now, he could feel a storm brewing.

He didn’t have to wait long. In the dead of night, the Russian soldiers attacked.

It was chaos. Taek’s men scrambled for their weapons, but the Russians were already upon them, blades flashing in the firelight. Taek himself barely dodged an attack, rolling to the side as a Russian soldier swung at him. His heart raced, but his mind was clear. This wasn’t just a random betrayal—it had been planned.

Svetlana appeared through the smoke, her face cold and calculating. “You should have known, Jaegal. No one survives this tournament through alliances.”

Taek glared at her, his rage boiling over. He had trusted her, despite his better judgment. Now, he would make sure she paid for it.

In the chaos, Taek moved with deadly precision, cutting down Russian soldiers left and right. His men were falling, outnumbered and outmatched, but Taek refused to go down without a fight.

Svetlana watched, a cruel smile on her lips. “You’re strong, Jaegal, but strength isn’t enough.”

Taek’s eyes burned with fury, but deep down, he knew she was right. The tournament wasn’t about strength—it was about survival, and survival often meant betrayal. He had learned that the hard way tonight.

As dawn broke over the battlefield, Taek’s camp lay in ruins. Most of his men were dead, their bodies scattered across the blood-soaked ground. The Russians had taken what they wanted and disappeared into the mist, leaving Taek alone with the broken remains of his forces.

He stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his sword dripping with blood. Despite the betrayal, despite the loss, he was still alive. But the weight of what had happened crushed him. He had trusted too easily, and now, he was paying the price.

Far from the battlefield, Kang TaeHoon received word of Taek’s defeat. A strange feeling twisted in his gut, though he couldn’t explain why. He and Taek had been rivals, but there was something more, something unspoken between them. The battlefield was shrinking, and sooner or later, they would meet.

And when they did, there would be no room for trust, no room for mercy.