The Imperial Hunter

Screaming for their mothers, the farthest-reaching sicarios left their burning footprints some twenty yards away. I allocated a bit of time and mercy, putting quick and accurate single shots into the heads of the sicarios who were not able to die and were rolling around.

“Fire! Fire!”

All teams entered the assault as a signal for this explosion. This prey was the Sinaloa Cartel. Since the explosion we caused must have been important to their plans, the sicarios, who had been roaring while watching the exploding gas station without giving any notice, only started to take action when they received attacks from my subordinates.

I, too, quickly brought forward the bodies I had carried. Four British soldiers in thick body armor were placed in pairs facing different directions, enduring the rain of gunfire with their entire bodies and concentrating the enemy’s attention with relentless firepower.

“Damn it! Why won’t these guys die?!”

“RPG, get the RPG!”

The cartel sicarios, who had been retreating from the firefight toward the town center, now started resisting with all their might, without much thought, as if they had a system in place. This resistance seemed to be a ‘counterattack plan’ similar to what the cartel had prepared for a situation like this.

“Fire!”

Amid the dancing shadows of bushes swaying in the glare and heat, a rocket streaked through, drawing a destructive line. The close-range explosion of the high-explosive warhead shredded two bodies with a powerful shockwave and natural shrapnel. The bodies rolled away like they had been hit by a speeding car, and the sicarios cheered enthusiastically.

It seemed like Rocket Senior’s nickname was “Goyo.” The guy with the empty launcher raised his arm as if showing off. Amidst all this, I couldn’t help but think he had no brains. Maybe he was high on drugs. They acted like lunatics. I pitied them but left the remaining two bodies conspicuously in their view.

That should be enough. I pulled back the foremost units.

“Teams 1 through 6, suppress the enemy and retreat to the second point.”

We started it, but the British troops were catching hell. From the sicarios’ perspective, they had defeated one side, but the other side was still there, and it was a noticeable column of vehicles. It would naturally be the primary target for them.

Sharp sounds of wind splitting seemed to form ominous harmonies, and then shells began to rain down from the sky. Explosions of all sizes, both large and small, erupted haphazardly amidst the field where I had discarded the bodies, the burning gas station, and the British military vehicles on both sides. It was a barrage of maximum-speed artillery fire delivered by the cartel. Large-caliber 51mm, 60mm, and 80mm high-explosive shells fell at intervals of 1 to 2 seconds, causing havoc in the vehicle column within moments.

A military Land Rover, in its hurried reverse, collided with a Foxhound armored vehicle in the rear, which then collided with a Husky armored truck being driven backward. Although there was enough spacing between the vehicles, the lack of lateral space resulted in numerous successive collisions occurring randomly. Amidst all this chaos, a single artillery shell struck the Husky armored truck. The armored plates on the left and right of the passenger compartment were torn away by the blast, and the entire vehicle violently swayed. Although the passenger compartment, engine, and driver’s seat remained unscathed, the passengers themselves weren’t as fortunate.

The driver stepped on the accelerator in panic, making a screeching sound, and the truck accelerated fiercely. A deafening explosion followed the rattling clatter. The charging vehicle, like a wild boar, crashed into the dilapidated wall of an abandoned building, crushing even the Mexican police officers who had been hiding there, before it finally came to a stop. Although the vehicle had been abandoned, cartel gunfire was concentrated on it.

Bullets bounced off the hood, while a couple of shots hit the bulletproof windshield, creating spiderweb-like cracks. The driver, now alert, grabbed his weapon and hastily exited the vehicle.

“Enemy rocket up front!”

At the head of the vehicle convoy, the Land Rover’s turret gunner shouted like a banshee and squeezed the trigger of the machine gun. A tracer mixed with flares shot out in a laser-like trajectory, scraping past the sicario who was aiming the rocket. The body that was about to launch the rocket was instantly transformed into something unrecognizable in a matter of seconds.

A sniper round fired from our side pierced through the ear of the Land Rover’s turret gunner. The gunner’s head hung limply, and he flowed down like a lifeless creature. The Land Rover had no advantages other than being light, so with the gunner firepower evaporated, it quickly became useless.

“A la mierda culeros! (These fucking assholes!)”

A new sicario picked up the discarded rocket launcher, knelt down on one knee, and fired in a haphazard stance. Immediately after firing, he was turned into pulp by the firepower of the armored vehicle, but the rocket he launched managed to penetrate the front windshield of the armored vehicle, hitting the passenger seat. The flaming wreckage of the rocket hit one human square in the chest and impaled another against the door, turning them into a mangled mess. Even with bodies enhanced with magical power, they couldn’t withstand the firepower of the rocket.

From the perspective of an observer, it was quite a spectacular sight.

Kyung-tae said.

“This is a splendid mess. There doesn’t seem to be any need for further intervention, hyungnim. Let’s move on to the next location.”

“Yeah.”

From the town center, British troops began rushing in to support the vehicle column, and the pressure on Knight Commander had decreased. As much as I wanted to enjoy this well-orchestrated bloodbath a bit more, it was time to relocate to the next town.

I led my subordinates in their retreat and thought. 

With numerous casualties and one town turning into a hellish scene, if the British continued the operation as it was, they would have to bear a tremendous burden. Moreover, with the loss of drones and unmanned aircraft, they were in no position to demonstrate overwhelming firepower as they did in Andalusia.

The odds were fifty-fifty again. They would either owe a debt to the Round Table while being humiliated by a single cartel or achieve their goal even if it meant causing a second Andalusia incident. Either way, they couldn’t avoid damaging the country’s prestige.

A four-wheel-drive vehicle suddenly emerged from the northwest of our route, breaking through the side with a loud noise. The vehicle, bearing clear traces of gunfire, had four remaining cartel Holy Knights on board. The knights, armed with automatic weapons and shields, carrying swords on their hips and wearing ammunition belts, were driving a vehicle on the verge of collapse, rushing to escape the burning town. It was a scene that can be described as, well, incredibly…

‘Surreal.’

It was a thought that seemed quite irrelevant and worthless. I refocused my attention on the reality in front of me.