Chapter 73: Guerrilla War

The preparatory barrage must be over.

Using the observed trajectories, a full bombardment rained down on the camp.

On paper it was billed as an attack on Tooth units hiding in the city, but anyone with eyes could tell they were aiming at our settlement. Absolutely savage.

“See? Just like you said, huh?”

“Well, it wasn’t me—Karys said it…” I tossed a pair of binoculars to Shinzo.

Of course, they hated us now; we’d given them every reason to. Still, the result was what mattered. The instant word went out that the Tooth had entered the old city, this is exactly what happened; bombing began with no evacuation notice.

Unbelievable.

If the camp had still been occupied by chance, it would have been a massacre. We’d been lucky. Luck had kept us alive. In this era there’s self-defense, sure, but no law against overkill: if someone kicks you, kick them back twice as hard.

At least this gave us a reason to move against Amatsu Mining.

“Thank you for your help, Rikan.”

“No, it helped us too—we got a clear view of the enemy’s movement. We’re even.” Rikan answered.

With that, I went to speak to the man who was organizing the Leone clan’s infantry—the Tooth unit that had supposedly invaded the camp.

Oddly enough, the Tooth forces that had supposedly attacked the camp had evacuated along with us.

Really strange.

As a lone dog, I couldn’t tell you why such odd things happened. All I could understand was one thing: our territory had been violated.

So, then—time to bite back.

***

Through the binoculars, I watched an armored vehicle speeding down a rough road through the wasteland—until it struck a landmine and erupted in an explosion.

The casualty was one of the large Monoz acting as its wheels. The body was gone—gone to nothing. In practical terms, it was a clean death. I felt a sliver of guilt, then shoved it aside. Best not to dwell; better to pretend I hadn’t seen, or hadn’t felt.

The vehicle crew and their escort scrambled and set up a defensive posture.

Their march stopped. I watched them. I had no intention of firing; the point was to make them take their time.

Twenty minutes, maybe. After confirming there had been no attack, they began to move again—carefully. They weren’t about to run the minefield a second time.

First, I sent Monoz out to scout. They reported the obvious: the road ahead was a minefield.

I hadn’t set just one or two. I’d been allowed to lay several.

They reacted by having the Monoz build rollers and advance behind them, clearing mines as they went. Every time a mine detonated, the roller on the tank would bounce—the sight was, I’ll admit it, a little amusing.

They crept along at a walking pace for a while, then their speed picked up. The rollers had proven reliable.

So I moved on to the next phase.

The Monoz likely caught on, but the vehicle was already moving too fast to stop. A mine the rollers had missed—one triggered by signal—detonated right on cue.

Another armored car flew apart. This time the column halted for good.

Mixing manual and automatic mines had been a clever touch. If every mine were automatic, rollers might handle the job. But when some are manual—wired so we can detonate them at will—you force them into picking their way forward, removing threats one by one.

“…”

Alright. Time to work.

I lowered the binoculars and brought the scope up to my eye.

I’d planted the same setup on two other supply routes. The teams that went that way—Snake Unit, Rabbit Unit from C1, Monkey Unit, Rooster Unit, and Dog Unit from C2—were cleared to pass through. In other words—

The thing in front of me was fair game.

I eased my finger on the trigger and squeezed.

The man wrapped in centipedes—his head armor and camera—shattered. It wasn’t fatal, but the surprise made him fold forward; his dorsal power unit lay exposed. I fired again. The centipede-thing stopped moving and crumpled to the ground.

The other escort and their Monoz moved. One more shot; this time lethal. The humanoid’s head split open and it fell still. A red, pulsing mass was visible through the hole.

Someone who’d seen the muzzle flash fired back at me. Monoz rushed toward my position.

Typical Monoz—they’d triangulated the mine locations and were closing in carefully to avoid stepping on them.

This was inconvenient.

So I shot the mines they’d avoided. A Monoz running past was caught in the blast. Still, they didn’t stop.

Human targets come and go; this mattered more. One by one, starting at the front, I picked them off cleanly. Their return fire began to edge closer; that wasn’t good.

“Tiger Unit, Boar Unit, go.”

Two combat Monoz answered the order and tore into the personnel around the armored vehicle. That opened a window.

“Ox, Dragon, Sheep, hold them.”

I left the three Monoz to hold the line and sent my attention elsewhere. At the spot ahead, someone who’d been struck by Tiger Unit was trying to push back—meaning they were stationary. I shot. They died.

I repeated the action until no standing humans remained.

Only their Monoz were left.

With their handlers gone, or perhaps because their handlers were gone, they advanced on me with a ferocious, desperate expression.

“Do it quick. Don’t make them suffer.”

That was about all I could promise myself.