Infinity, The Arcade Age

Boom!

A deafening explosion shattered the barricade, sending debris and several soldiers flying into the air. Fragments of rock pelted the helmet of a Regular Army squad leader, producing a cacophony of metallic clinks as he crouched behind cover. Clutching a submachine gun, he returned fire in a desperate attempt to suppress the advancing enemy forces.

When his magazine emptied, he ducked back behind the crumbling barricade to reload, wiping the grime from his face with a dirtied sleeve. Gritting his teeth, he bellowed toward the nearby communications officer.

"Where are the reinforcements?! How much longer do we have to hold out?! We can't last much longer!"

The communications officer, crouching nearby with a telegraph machine strapped to his back, held his headset tightly and shouted back in panic.

"They said to hold the line, sir! To the last man!"

"To hell with them!" the squad leader roared, slamming his fist into the ground. "Why don't they come and die first?! Where's the commander? Give me some damn orders!"

"The commander fled with the officers, sir!"

The squad leader froze, his face drained of color. The truth struck like a thunderclap—they'd been abandoned, left as sacrificial pawns.

He scanned the battlefield. To his sides, what remained of his unit continued exchanging fire, pinned behind crumbling cover. Ahead, the enemy forces surged forward, their movements relentless and coordinated.

With a guttural yell, the squad leader rose from cover, lifting his submachine gun. He unloaded indiscriminately, the barrage catching several rebels off guard and dropping them in the dirt.

The enemy quickly regained their composure and redirected their fire. A burst of muzzle flashes lit the battlefield, and the squad leader jerked as a bullet tore through his chest. Blood sprayed as he collapsed onto the scorched earth.

"Captain! Captain, are you okay?!" A soldier scrambled toward the fallen leader, his voice trembling with desperation. "We need a medic! Where's the medic?!"

"The medic ran off with the officers!" someone yelled.

"Then what about the supplies?!"

"Gone too!"

"Damn it all!"

Chaos erupted. Without a leader, the line collapsed as panic spread like wildfire.

The rebels seized their opportunity. With bayonets affixed to their rifles, they roared as they charged forward, aiming to finish the job with brutal close-quarters combat.

The remaining Regular Army soldiers paled but gritted their teeth, pulling their own bayonets as they prepared to make a final stand.

Before the two forces clashed, a thunderous rumble echoed from the nearby forest.

Blinding flashes lit the battlefield as a stream of bullets tore through the rebel ranks. Bodies crumpled, screams filled the air, and the rebel charge faltered.

Crashing through the forest, a Regular Army light tank burst onto the scene. Perched atop the tank, a soldier manned a machine gun, mercilessly mowing down the enemy.

Behind the tank, reinforcements poured out of the forest, weapons raised as they advanced. Step by step, they surged forward, firing their rifles and submachine guns in rapid succession.

When enemy bullets struck them, sparks flew off their reinforced gear. Though staggered by the impact, the soldiers pressed on, their march unbroken.

Whoosh!

Rockets streaked across the battlefield, launching from shoulder-mounted launchers. Designed for light vehicles, the projectiles tore through rebel defenses, leaving craters in their wake.

Even a heavily armored H-class tank wasn't spared. A well-aimed rocket struck its chassis, ripping its upper half from the body and sending it flying through the air.

What moments ago had been an overwhelming assault from the rebel forces now descended into chaos. Rebels who had confidently pressed forward were now fleeing in panic, scattering in all directions.

The Regular Army remnants stared in disbelief, their mouths agape. Their salvation had arrived in the form of a disciplined and devastating force.

Before they could process what had happened, reinforcements reached their trenches.

The squad leader leading the charge, carrying a rocket launcher over his shoulder, leaped into the trench with a resounding thud. He barked orders without hesitation.

"Who's in charge here? Step forward!"

The remaining Regular Army soldiers, shaken from their stupor, exchanged glances. One of them raised a trembling hand, drawing the attention of the commanding officer.

"You're the leader of this unit?"

"No! It's him!" The soldier pointed toward the fallen squad leader. "But he's badly injured. We—"

"Enough talking! Give him this!" The officer flung a supply bag to the ground. "And the rest of the wounded too! Tell him this unit is now under our command. Gather everyone and report to our commanding officer immediately!"

Without waiting for a reply, the squad leader slung his rocket launcher and dashed back out of the trench. His soldiers followed without missing a beat. In seconds, they vanished into the chaos, leaving the remnants to stare at the supply bag they had dropped behind.

The remnants hesitated, their eyes falling on the scattered green supply kits that had spilled from the bag. For a moment, no one moved.

The battle ended swiftly. The routed rebel forces scrambled to escape, leaving the Regular Army with the battlefield.

Using the green kits, the wounded squad leader was stabilized and brought back to his feet. After quickly rallying what remained of his unit, he led his soldiers forward, their weapons gripped tightly in their hands.

As they reached the reinforcement camp, they were greeted by a bustling scene. Soldiers worked efficiently, loading supplies and weapons onto trucks, while others stood guard or patrolled with cigarettes dangling from their lips.

The squad leader and his men exchanged uneasy glances.

From the crowd of soldiers emerged a figure in a crisp officer's uniform, a light machine gun slung casually over his shoulder. His expression was as cold and unyielding as the metal on his gun.

"You're all that's left?" he asked, his voice cutting through the din. "This is it? Just a handful of you?"

The squad leader stiffened and saluted, his body tense. "Sergeant Shuke, reporting, sir! I—"

"Enough," the officer interrupted, waving dismissively. "I'm not your commander. He's back there."

The officer stepped aside, revealing the man behind him—Qin Ming.

Sitting atop a tank, his officer's cap tilted askew, his uniform unbuttoned, and a cigarette dangling from his lips, Qin Ming casually studied a military map in his hands.

The good news was that after countless skirmishes, Qin Ming had successfully gathered several fragmented units, bringing his forces from fifty to over three hundred soldiers.

The bad news? He was hopelessly lost.

Hearing footsteps, Qin Ming set the map aside, adjusting his sunglasses as he glanced at the approaching group.

"You're all that's left from your unit? Who's in charge here?"

Shuke took one look at Qin Ming's disheveled appearance—his crooked cap, his open uniform, his lazy demeanor—and felt his heart sink. Was this the leader of such a formidable force?

Despite his growing doubts, Shuke saluted sharply. "Sergeant Shuke, reporting, sir!"

"Shuke? Can you fly a plane?"

"Uh, I've learned the basics, but I'm not proficient."

"Good enough. Keep practicing. I've got high hopes for you." Qin Ming waved toward the others. "Your unit's mine now. You'll remain a squad leader. Beta! Get them new gear!"

"Yes, sir!"

"By the way, Shuke," Qin Ming continued, handing him the map. "You can read this, right? Tell me where we are."

Shuke's face grew grimmer as he realized Qin Ming couldn't even read a map. Taking the map reluctantly, he prepared to explain their location.

Before he could speak, Beta returned. Leaning in close to Qin Ming, he whispered, "Commander, a few people just came out of the forest. They claim to be this unit's officers. Leading them is a second lieutenant, and they've asked to see you."

Qin Ming raised an eyebrow and turned to Shuke.

Shuke's face darkened further as he nodded bitterly. "Yes, he's our commander. He likely has his adjutants and medics with him, but that man…"

"Enough," Qin Ming interrupted. "I don't care what kind of person he is. Beta, you know the drill. Keep the medic."

"Yes, sir!" Beta saluted and left.

Moments later, the sound of gunfire echoed from the forest. Shuke, map in hand, turned toward the noise, his face pale with shock.

(End of chapter)