From inside the room, the sound of someone getting up arose, along with questioning voices.
The veteran raised his finger.
The half-human flipped over the couch to take cover, agile as a Thainese Cat, making absolutely no noise.
Two human team members—one in front of and one behind the veteran—pressed against the wall, the one in front crouching down.
One human team member had already stripped off a corpse’s jacket, put it on, and then sat down beside the fire, feigning sleep.
Another gnome crawled under the table, stealthily pointing a nail gun’s barrel through the spaces in the tablecloth.
"Jack, what’s wrong?" The first man emerged without noticing the situation in the space behind him.
The second man walked out, also oblivious to whatever was happening behind him, just casting a glance at the ’comrade’ by the fire, "Dam’s dead to the world again, that guy is hopeless."
"Leave him, let’s see what’s wrong with Jack."
The third man, carrying a shotgun, stepped out, sniffing the air: "Damn it, Gao Wen, I told you to stop picking at your stinky feet, now the whole room smells of your foot, stinky and bleeding."
"What could I do? A damn stray bullet hit me at noon, I was almost caught by the cops!" The last member, limping, commented while looking back.
He saw the veteran, the crouching comrade in front of him, and the third man who was leaning out.
Then the nail shot by the Archer crouching in front of the veteran pierced through his rather thin underwear, silencing his scream back into his lungs.
The veteran’s nail gun hit the one with the shotgun, who struggled momentarily before being shot down by nails from the side—the gnome under the table, the human by the fire, and the half-human behind the couch turned him into a sieve in the most literal sense.
Someone pushed open the wooden door from the kitchen, knocking down the guy standing in front of it, while another lucky one was hit in the head with a frying pan by the rushing young man.
Seeing his head visibly caving in, there was no doubt he was a goner.
"Leave him alive!" the veteran commanded.
The young man, who had already raised the frying pan, put it down as his team rushed over to tie up the guy—before that, someone had pulled a sock off some guy’s foot and stuffed it into the mouth of the lucky one.
"I accidentally hit the pot," the young man said somewhat sheepishly to the veteran walking towards him.
"Be more careful next time, or you’ll put yourself and your team in danger, got that?" After speaking, the veteran patted his shoulder, "But you did well, as a squad leader you did what you had to do."
The two squads withdrew from the building, the veteran having the young man drag the prisoner with broken limbs back—there were professionals in the rear prepared to pry open his mouth as quickly as possible.
Close to the second target, the veteran heard gunshots coming from inside, a silver lining in the snowy weather—the strong winds masked the sound of gunfire, but he kicked open the courtyard gate immediately and sprinted through, kicking open the door of the house.
The battle was already over; seven bodies lay on the ground, six Chaos followers and one of their own.
The latter bore many wounds; ultimately, they had killed two Chaotic Believers in hand-to-hand combat, one of whom had mutated.
But the silver-inlaid dagger ended its life.
The only casualty had a bullet hole in the chest.
"When we came in, we were almost face to face with them," One-eyed’s subordinate said with a hint of regret, "The captain has fallen."
"...Take your captain’s body, and drive silver stakes into all the Chaotic bodies first," the veteran said, then led his team towards the third target.
Turning the corner, he glanced at the bodies of the patrol squad on the ground—there was no need for disguise anymore.
"Old soldier, we’ve observed fires in the south, do you have other squads in action there?" A raven landed on the shoulder of the old soldier.
"No... don’t worry about that place. After we clear all the targets, we’ll leave, and remember not to forget to take all the Chaotic Believers’ bodies, it’s better for people to go missing in this city than for dozens of Chaotic corpses to appear," the veteran said, noticing the door to the building where the third target was located being pushed open. A team member emerged dragging a wounded man, followed by several injured but still mobile team members.
Good, everyone was there.
"Well done," the old soldier patted their backs one by one.
Each team member saluted him.
"Next time on the battlefield, remember not to salute, because the Sharpshooters of Chaos will prioritize taking down anyone who looks like an officer," the old soldier said with a smile. He thought of his past self, a time when every rookie was cautioned this way before heading to the frontlines. In the rear echelon, anyone who didn’t salute an officer would be whipped once, but on the front, those who did salute would receive three lashes.
More and more squads appeared, most of them with casualties, and some squads had one or two prisoners, but by the end, the old soldier had only seen four bodies.
When all the action teams had left, the collection team responsible for gathering bodies and evidence moved in.
The old soldier who could finally relax took out a necklace with the Holy Emblem from inside his collar and kissed the sacred emblem gently.
Goddess of the Night, may You have mercy, may every soul see the River of The End.
Then he saw One-eyed approaching.
"We killed thirty-one people, captured five," after saying this, One-eyed opened his cigarette case and offered the old soldier a cigarette: "This damned weather, really makes one nostalgic."
"Yes, the winters on the Northern Line, every day it would snow . The officers would complain about how cold it was, while standing in the same trench with us. Sometimes some young lieutenant who just arrived would think he might die in the next big battle, then he’d share his cigarettes with us."
"Turns out these young lieutenants usually ended up being looked after by the old soldiers and managed to survive, only to owe a huge debt of cigarette money, some lucky unlucky buggers."
The two old men laughing and reminiscing about the past, lit their cigarettes with a single lighter, just like those times in the communication trenches when they would sneak a smoke while no one was around.
Then the two men looked towards the glowing red southern sky.
"We better run fast."
"Right, the officers are probably going insane."
They came to the same conclusion and started to hurry their subordinates along.