chapter-42

"Why do we have to come here with our hunting weapons?" asked one of the townspeople forced to come to the fortress. They couldn't stand still as the mayor said their families' safety was at stake.

But after seeing so many fighters on the unfinished wall, they got worried. You can see the tension on the face of the fighter, who separated from the wall was busy preparing the defensive structures.

"Of course, to protect the city from the monsters that are coming." The mayor responded after observing the place where bombs were planted.

"What what! Monsters came here? What the hell?

"How is this possible, why do we have to fight with monsters."

"There are so many soldiers here to defend.

What the used of us, we only have experience in small game hunting?"

"Are you trying to use us as a meat shield?

All hell breaks loose when the townspeople talk loudly to each other or ask Doyke. Some even try to go back to where they came from.

slam!

"Enough! You've shamed our ancestors way too much, don't you think?

Have you ever felt embarrassed when those guards stared at us like bugs?

Have you ever forgotten the meaning of our town or what kind of people lived on this land?!"

Red-faced, Doyke's swear words poured out like a burst dam.

"Outsiders may not know it or have forgotten it, but how on earth do you guys dare to forget our roots?"

"You think I'm a coward? Do you think I'm that happy bowing my head to that damned control freak?

It's all for my hometown, it's all for you bloody idiots!."

"What does this have to do with our ancestors? Even if it has to do with, when our ancestors guarded the frontier, they don't say shit. They did what they have to.

What about these guys, pointing at us and telling,

you to do this or that? Who gives a fuck about monsters?

We are people who lived on this land which bears the brunt of monsters' tide all season. Who is afraid of who?"

A man stepped out of the crowd in front of Doyke, looked him in the face, and retorted.

Doyke closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. The city of Bram where the barbarian lived. In the Sword and iron age, the land that drank blood is the Bram. One of the border towns of brœðralag, after modernization and cultural change, the current name became Bram.

"I called you idiots, I apologize, calling you idiots was in itself an insult to idiots! You have courage, but why don't you show it?

Those who don't even have a responsibility tried to protect this town, not because they love this town, but because this town was the only functioning city left in Cifad. But we have a responsibility to protect this city, these people, and our own family.

Don't want to defend the town? Be my guest.

You said you don't give a fuck about monsters, but the monster also doesn't even give a fuck whose descendants you are.

They will destroy us, they will devour us, they will make this land bleed." Doyke lift his neck, looked up at the man's face, and smiled back.

"Okay, stop it, Cratos. Mr. Mayor, can you tell us how many monsters were coming our way?" The middle-aged man grabbed Crato's shoulder and ended the discussion.

"We don't know the exact numbers, but at least two thousand." Doyke took a deep breath,

"Whether you're comfortable or not, the truth is that we need them to survive. And their demands on us weren't even that exaggerated.

They just want to tell us to take responsibility. Even if they weren't there to tell us what to do, even if we were alone on this land, the situation wouldn't change. Let us assume our responsibilities and fight for them."

※※※

At the intersection where Smith's group deviated from its original course, a group of riders slowed down and changed direction. They sniffled here and there and came across torn cloth soaked in blood.

The craver on top of the monster sniffed the air deeply, let out a low growl, and slapped the monster he was riding to the side. This group of riders, knowingly or unknowingly, followed the group heading toward Bram.

.....

"Damn! Damn!" Tate, watching for danger, growled when a group of riders came into his line of sight.

"Chief! We have company!

"How many are there?" In a controlled voice, Smith responded while placing the injured guard in a comfortable position.

" Around 12 ?! No, if we added the Cravers, there are about twenty of them! They're catching up, boss!"

Smith removed the redistributed shotgun and rubbed the smoothbore with his palm. A slight shiver ran through his palm from the barrel.

"Tate, ask them. Who will still be here to fight the cravers with me." Inserting the 4-caliber ammo into the gun, he commanded softly.

"..." For a few seconds, only the sound of the vehicle's engine is heard.

"Whoever staying behind, respond immediately!" Tate opened the group's channel and asked.

"Myself!" "Myself!" "Myself!" nearly all guards on HMMWVS responded immediately.

"Not all drivers can be left behind, no one will take your place. Watch out for this bastard!"Smith ordered the guard in his car.

"Let's Go" 8 guards jumped off the HMMWVS which run at high speed and rolled on the ground as dust flew around the air.

"I'm proud of you, boys," Smith said softly to the guards, watching the approaching riders.

"We met as mercenaries. As an old saying goes:

The nearest place was the graveyard and

The families were the ones who we got along with, it's a mercenary's life."

"We mercenaries became families, friends, brothers as we fought together on the battlefield. We have no faith like soldiers! we have no ambition like politicians! we have no dreams like artists! We don't have a peaceful future like most people, from the moment we happened to enter this profession. "

"But!!!" Smith aimed his gun at the incoming riders.

"What we got was," Smith said

"money!" the other guards shouted, readying their respective weapons.

"What we liked was", Smith

"ladies in nightclubs!" the guards

"What we loved was", Smith

"drinking!" the guards

"What we treasure was," Smith

"bastard brothers we have on the battlefield.!" the guards.

"Don't die on me, you bastards, we're clubbing tomorrow. If you are in the hospital at that time,

we won't wait.

Of course at the president's expense. ha...ha"

bang!! bang!! bang!!

The arriving group of riders was greeted by projectiles from the eight shotguns. The riders separated under continuous fire. Some unfortunate monsters have been shot in the eyes of the calf, and they fall to the ground, sending their riders flying in the path of the projectile.

After firing all the bullets stored in the gun, he put it back.

"What a bloody life." Muttering to himself, Smith pulled out his machete. raised above his head and welcomed some monsters.

He braced himself as the monster lunged at him, trying to pin him to the ground with its claws using momentum and body weight.

Smith ducked to the right side stepping and dodging a bit and slammed into the side of the monster. But the machete was parried and yanked off by three claws of the Craver, who was riding on the monster.

The monster, missing its prey, drifted through the ground kicking up dust. Red-eyed, Smith ran after him and jumped on the Craver, whose positioning was off balance.

The three rolled together a bit in the dust, but Craver's neck was broken and lifeless as he rolled under Smith's arms. The air is still, the wind stops blowing, and the flying dust falls to the ground. The monster groaned as it rose hastily and lowered its head toward Smith.

But ...

Smith struck the monster's head with both fists, shaking the ground. He tore the monster off its front paw and tackled it to the ground from left to right and from right to left. The dust around them was like sand on a beating drum, they jumped up and immediately fell backward.

The Cravers and the monsters fighting the other guards suddenly ignored the guards and stared foolishly at the vibrating patch of dust.

While tucking their tails, the monsters run in all directions. The riders above them fell to the ground in various positions. Before the Cravers knew what was happening, they encountered knives and swords of various sizes.

Tate was surprised by the unexpected situation. He thought it was a very tough fight to get out alive. All his determination was like a joke, what a mood killer.

As he went to check on Smith's situation, the airflow near him stopped, his breathing became labored, and sweat seeped from every pore. His body slowly crouched down to all fours and breathing became more difficult.

A hand like vice tools gripped his throat and lifted him. Smith lifted his head with difficulty to watch the owner of the hand. In his blurry vision of him, he saw only red eyes full of anger.

Tate's defensive instincts kicked in, and he tried to open the hand with both of his hands. To his dismay, like a child trying to wrestle a grown man, his efforts were in vain. As his resistance diminished over the seconds,

"Chief! What are you doing?

boss, wake up!!!!

....

As Smith squeezes Tate's throat, he fights back his anger, which seeks to pour out on someone irrelevant.

His anger slowly subsides, the gripping hand not gathering much strength, but also not letting go of Tate.

"Chief! What are you doing? Boss wake up!!!! "

Smith closed his eyes and tried to bring back the happy memories he treasured so much. Eventually, with the breathing going on the anger subsided.