NoveLight ™
"Fuck, what the hell…!"
An explosion.
And only the sound of crackling filled the southwestern road leading to Houston. If one were to visualize the world just after the end had come, it would feel something like this. Even modified armored vehicles were being smashed to pieces without a chance to fight back. Naturally, the number of casualties was beyond description.
Once the attack passed, the first cartel division that had advanced was completely obliterated. It was enough to make one not even want to know how many had disappeared from the world. However, even amidst this chaos, the commander, now accustomed to cartel logic, was happily calculating in his head.
'If we go back like this, our innards will be on display outside while we're still alive…'
It was an obvious outcome.
The coalition cartel formed by several major cartels was essentially just a temporary alliance sharing only minimal information, and given that they often fought among themselves over interests, the probability of facing severe punishment was high if they failed in this operation.
If it came to executing someone on the spot as a warning example, they might find themselves subjected to public execution, in the middle of the street, under the pretense of taking responsibility.
And of course, it wouldn’t end there. True to their name, the cartels had taken each other's families hostage, a fact that didn't even need further explanation. The resulting situation didn’t require explanation either.
“…Keep advancing.”
“Understood.”
Isn’t it enough to just win? Just win.
American street gangs, corrupt ex-police, criminals, pure-blood cartel members rising from Mexico… Those who had long abandoned any semblance of morality could no longer lead normal lives. The only paths left for them were toward the cartel’s thousand-year empire or a descent into hell.
Of course, it didn’t need to be said which one was closer.
Hundreds of vehicles and thousands of personnel began to move again.
And by the time they reached downtown Houston, the coalition cartel had already lost more than half of their initial numbers.
“Update on enemy distribution. It’d be better to draw it out a bit more and increase the density.”
“Let’s reduce the firepower projection ratio to the original 65% and set up mines to prevent easy approaches.”
“It feels like we’re playing an old FPS game.”
At Dais’s remark, a few chuckled softly. It seemed he was referring to the modern warfare games that had been popular in the past, like AC-130, raining death from above. In reality, it wasn’t much different. The target had just changed to drones.
He glanced around. Everyone was still tense, but the atmosphere had become somewhat lively. Was it a justified optimism? Even though the operation had been underway for quite some time, the enemies had yet to appear, leading to a slight easing of tension.
It was quite understandable. Especially since almost all engagements were taking place through screens and remote controls, the cartel coalition was oblivious to the fact that they were facing turrets and drones, blindly firing RPGs and machine guns in all directions.
Meanwhile, the drones precisely targeted enemy vehicles, puncturing their tires, and the artillery turrets placed at higher elevations, along with well-camouflaged machine guns, turned those vehicles into coffins for four men. Thus, the vehicles became flaming obstacles that could slow down the enemies.
The enemies were causing a bottleneck in an area roughly the size of two soccer fields.
“Shall we prepare?”
“Today, I’ll take over for the rookie. You two just focus on piloting the drones.”
Logan then spoke up.
“Heavy Weather, this is Aurora. Confirming the impression level.”
“Provided time is 50 minutes, mission stop code is Twilight. Received. Ready for battlefield situation update report.”
Listening to a nine-line briefing delivered by someone other than myself felt quite refreshing. There were times when I couldn’t even speak English well, memorizing the briefing norms and crying, wondering why I was doing this.
Through Icarus gear, target coordinates were transmitted. Since there had been some network integration between DDP-52 and MQ-20 beforehand, there was no real need to call out coordinates precisely, but the procedure was important nonetheless.
Anyway, Logan’s nine-line was… just fast. He skimmed his eyes over the screen and read the briefing with the skill of someone born to do CAS. One could only guess how much he practiced, and how many times he used it in real situations.
The conversation continued, leaving behind the viewers who were absolutely loving it.
“The target location is southwest of TDC, at the intersection of Line 610 and HWY 90. Friendly forces are currently at TDC and are approximately 3 miles from the target. No clouds. Be cautious of any possible anti-aircraft fire. Is the nine-line ready?”
“Approach with IP Apache. Direction 290, distance 4. Numerous light infantry and unspecified armored vehicles. QF 216288. Lines 7, 8 N/A.”
Logan smirked, and that was the answer.
Less than a minute later, the words continued.
“Aurora relays to Heavy Weather, permission to attack granted.”
And thus, ten seconds that felt like an eternity passed—
—KABOOM!
In the darkness, flames erupted once more.
In truth, the fire had flared up only for a moment, but there was no problem identifying the target. Two cluster bombs fell from the sky, leveling an area the size of several soccer fields in an instant. This was because the additional defensive points set up in the area designated by Owens were holding their ground to prevent the enemies from advancing.
The kill count shot up dramatically, but that wasn’t all.
“Understood. I’ll bind their feet.”
Simultaneously, smart mines were detonated. It was obvious that an entire division of troops couldn’t come down a single road, so it was natural to scatter traps at various choke points.
Explosions and flames erupted. Vehicles on the road were pushed aside, and flames erupted from the specially made vehicles designed to clear the path as steering systems and pipelines were damaged, making driving impossible. Of course, this was not a significant issue since an explosion from the fuel tank occurred before the driver could even feel it.
As a long vehicle became a burning obstacle blocking the road, the vehicles following behind had to stop abruptly.
And that spot was soon to become a graveyard.
“Direction 270, distance 2. Numerous light infantry and unspecified armored vehicles. QF 416748. Lines 7, 8 N/A.”
“Understood. Permission to attack granted.”
As the numbers went from 700 to 3500, then to 2000, and finally to 900…
With each one-sided engagement, the enemy’s strength was steadily diminished. Everyone knew that the end was annihilation. The fortunate survivors at the back of the line either dashed from their vehicles into the buildings or turned back to retrace their steps.
After setting off all the remaining smart mines and barely managing the drones, the enemy numbers had dwindled to below 700. This meant that literally only one out of ten had managed to escape alive.
Half of them blended into Houston, while the other half retreated back the way they came. The former would soon be wiped out by the Houston patrol, and as for the latter… who knows? Would they be graciously accepted back by the cartels?
Either way, the outcome seemed to lead to hell.
CLANK!
With a heavy noise, all the drones were recovered. As the DDP-52 stretched its panels toward the sky and returned to its original state, Owens gathered the Dagger Team, Harmony, and Dais around.
“Refueling of the MD500 is complete. We’ll be gathering at the rooftop helipad in 10 minutes, so everyone prepare.”
“Yes, understood.”
Then suddenly, it was the viewers who were left in shock.
They thought the battle in Houston had ended safely, but were now stunned to see the team moving somewhere without a moment’s rest, curious about what was happening.
Where should I start explaining? But I soon smiled and added:
“According to Javier’s comments following the briefing, the enemy’s base is the American city of Corpus Christi. The cartel coalition has sent a massive amount of power from there.”
Yet the fact that this power had vanished in less than an hour was something they could not miss hearing.
And the implication was simple.
“In that city, a massive blame game and argument are about to begin, one that could cover the entire globe. Although it’s more likely that it won’t end with just a simple argument, one thing is certain: one of the cartel coalition’s bases is currently in a state of chaos.”
A city engulfed in confusion. A collapsed surveillance system… it was indeed perfect for a handful of people to sneak in.
So the answer was simple.
“We’re going to execute a beheading operation.”
We would arrive in Corpus Christi as quickly as possible, create chaos among the enemies to incite internal conflict, and while they shot at each other, we would infiltrate and decapitate the leadership.
Of course, given the sheer scale of the cartel, this cutting wouldn’t end with just one time, but still, those whose heads were cut off wouldn’t be able to resist any further.
Most of the viewers didn’t understand what was being said, but a few must have already had an inkling.
It didn’t take long for the helicopter to take off.
A busy day was about to begin.
—TOOT TOOT TOOT!
“They’ve already started.”
“During times like this, they sure are unnecessarily fast.”
In the tranquil coastal resort city of Corpus Christi, the sounds of explosions and gunfire echoed continuously. Since we had left the DDP-52 behind to defend Houston, we had to rely solely on reconnaissance drones, but thankfully the city wasn’t that large.
At any rate, the city at 10 PM was in utter chaos. The view displayed by the high-flying reconnaissance drone was a sight to behold. Lightly armed personnel were sporadically shooting at each other. There were also sporadic firefights and personal helicopters.
We had come to execute a beheading operation while the enemies were engaged in combat, but at this rate, I wondered what would happen. Surely they hadn’t started shooting at each other’s leaders already.
It was complete pandemonium.
Even while crossing the bridge that split the city in half, accompanied by vigilance, the gunfire continued unabated.
However, by the time we crossed the bridge and began to move along the coastline, a story came through that couldn’t be overlooked via communications interception—specifically, the topic of a ceasefire agreement. Though I hadn’t experienced such a situation before, it didn’t matter much. After all, the beheading operation was set to proceed successfully.
What was crucial was verifying where they would regroup.
The Icarus gear automatically intercepted and deciphered communications, marking the destination.
“In about 15 minutes, another meeting will be held at Norma Urban Park.”
“Still quite a while to go. We need to select a spot to interfere.”
“Is it possible to snipe?”
“…Let’s check if there are any firearms around.”
In Texas, a paradise for guns.
Here, there were plenty of firearms hidden away for Icarus operators to respond immediately in case of emergency, and there were an overwhelming number of gun stores. In short, the goal was to rummage through and find a sniper rifle. Unfortunately, we hadn’t brought one along as it was prioritized for combat sustainability.
I wondered if we had enough time.
After quickly hacking into the building’s alarm system, Logan twisted the lock that secured the metal shutters with force, breaking it. He was about to take out a Tomahawk, but thankfully it wasn’t necessary. With a clattering sound, the shutters opened.
“Where’s the sniper point?”
“The USS Lexington Museum, Icarus’s suggestion. It’s 2 km from Norma Urban Park.”
“A 2000m sniper shot in a place where the sea breeze blows? That’s craziness.”
Of course, our actions were even quicker than that.
Using a pulse scan, we found everything we needed. As if they were stowed away in a precious place, we discovered an AW50, resting quietly behind a window in a store connected to a warehouse, rather than in the gun store itself.
In the meantime, Dais smashed the glass of the display case and asked while holding a ridiculously large scope if this would be okay, while Harmony dug through the metal-smelling space and finally found a box filled with .50 caliber bullets. Logan and Owens found a bipod for the tripod and gun mounting.
That was it.
I held the rifle, and all that was left was to run.
“Let’s go, let’s go! We have 10 minutes left!”
“I’ll go first! I’ll cheer for you!”
“I’ll lead them. You go ahead.”
So, as always, only the three manifestors went ahead.
Standing along the coastline was the USS Lexington Museum. After breaking the chains and locks securing the tightly shut metal shutters with an axe, we opened the hatch. We rushed through the complicated interior of the ship, sprinting up the stairs until we reached the deck, where a refreshing sea breeze greeted us.
Turning on night vision goggles, we ran past various aircraft models. After dashing up to the anti-fall fence under a sky bright as day, I quickly checked the remaining time: 3 minutes and 32 seconds. I kicked the fence to gain visibility and lay flat on the aircraft carrier deck.
After mounting the cannonball-sized scope received earlier, I connected the bipod and pulled the magazine to insert the round, making a clicking sound as I did so. The final step was adjusting the zeroing.
A titanium 3-24x56 scope from Delta Optical. I wondered where they got such a magnificent piece.
“It’s neither subsonic nor does it have a suppressor. I guess I’ll have to be ready to jump into the sea after firing.”
“If it’s burdensome, should I take over for the rookie?”
“You’re better suited for the reconnaissance role, Polar Bear.”
The sniping wasn’t meant to annihilate them all.
Just one shot.
If I could hit and kill, then the ceasefire would be off the table.
Sniping itself wasn’t that difficult. The Icarus gear calculated the impact point in real time. The UI displayed bullet hang time, predicted trajectory, and wind calculations, so there was no need to worry.
And after three minutes passed, several individuals who appeared to be high-ranking cartel officials stepped onto the beach, engaging in various conversations. Surrounding them were bodyguards armed to the teeth, bustling around like ants.
The noise diminished. I focused on timing. It would be better to shoot at a higher target than the bodyguards if possible.
I placed my finger on the trigger and controlled my breath while waiting for the precise moment—
—BANG!
The trigger was pulled all the way back, and the bullet left the barrel.
The .50 caliber round aimed at the upper left of the target followed a strange parabolic path.
About four seconds passed.
“…Hit.”
“Good kill, good kill.”
“Things are going to get interesting from here.”
And as he said, the scene visible through the scope was quite amazing.
The head of the cartel official exploded like a watermelon, and he collapsed forward, prompting everyone to draw their weapons and start shooting indiscriminately at each other.
Owens, Harmony, and Dais, who had come late, arrived as well, and the six of us laughed for several minutes in that spot.
The world was truly chaotic.
Thanks for the chappy!
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