Chapter 119
Isabella's POV
The eastern horizon gradually shifted from black to gray, the first light of dawn quietly ascending. I returned to my post in the study, staring at the surveillance screens while Quincy stood behind me, expression focused, ready to record my reports at any moment.
My fingers gripped the encrypted channel earpiece tightly, and on screen, the tree lines beyond the estate perimeter began showing anomalies—thermal imaging revealed dense clusters of red dots, slowly approaching.
"They're here," I said quietly.
Gabriel's voice came through the earpiece, calm as if discussing weather. "All personnel, enter Level One alert."
The red dots multiplied, gradually splitting into two groups. One moved toward the main gate, approximately thirty people; the other was larger, at least fifty, heading straight for the northwest lowlands.
"Main gate feint, northwest main assault," I immediately reported through the channel. "Enemy main force approaching northwest defensive line, estimated three minutes until they enter firing range."
"Received." Gabriel's voice remained steady. "Execute as planned. Let them advance another fifty meters."
I watched those red dots step into the trap one by one, my heartbeat accelerating. On screen, the northwest lowlands feed clearly showed enemy movements—they kept low profiles, using morning mist for cover, rapidly advancing toward that seemingly vulnerable area.
Leading was an armored vehicle, followed by densely packed armed personnel. Their formation was tight, clearly believing this was their breakthrough point.
"Forty meters," I called out the distance. "Armored vehicle leading, infantry following, formation dense."
"Good." Gabriel's voice carried a hint of cold laughter. "Continue observing."
Thirty meters.
Twenty meters.
Ten meters.
The armored vehicle charged into the open ground, infantry close behind. They thought they'd broken through the first defensive line, some even beginning to run faster.
Then—
BOOM!
The first mine triggered, the explosion tearing through the morning silence. The armored vehicle's left track flew off, the whole vehicle flipping on its side. The infantry behind hadn't even reacted when the second and third layers of mines detonated in succession.
The chain explosions were like death's symphony—flames, smoke, debris weaving together into a hellish tableau on screen. I saw bodies thrown into the air, disintegrating mid-flight; saw people collapse struggling, swallowed by subsequent blasts; saw others try to flee, only to trigger more mines.
My fingers began trembling, nails digging into my palms, forcing myself not to look away.
"Enemy main force heavily damaged, casualties at least thirty," my voice shook slightly but still reported clearly. "Remaining forces in chaos, attempting to retreat."
"Activate crossfire," Gabriel ordered.
On screen, the tree lines on both sides of the lowlands suddenly erupted with dense gunfire. Three fire teams opened up from different directions simultaneously, bullets pouring down on that open ground like a rainstorm.
Those trying to retreat were pinned in place—no cover, no escape route, could only take the beating passively. I saw people hit and fall, saw others trying to crawl toward the overturned armored vehicle for cover, only to be struck down halfway.
Blood and flesh flying.
This was my first time truly seeing what "war" looked like—not the heroism of movies, not the romanticized descriptions in novels, but naked slaughter.
My stomach churned, sourness rising in my throat, but I bit down hard, forcing myself to stay calm.
"Northwest line holding, enemy main force essentially combat-ineffective," I continued reporting, my voice steadier than before. "Enemy reinforcing main gate direction."
I switched feeds, seeing the main gate's feint force suddenly intensify their assault. They'd discovered Sullivan's defenses were "unexpectedly weak," thought they'd found an opportunity, began calling for follow-up reinforcements.
"Main gate enemy increased to fifty, firepower density rising," I reported. "They seem to think they can break through here."
Russell's manic voice came through the earpiece—clearly intercepted communications. "Full assault! At any cost!"
Another fifty moved from reserves toward the main gate.
Gabriel laughed coldly. "He took the bait."
I watched those surging toward the main gate, a wave of sorrow rising in my chest. They didn't know they were walking toward death, still thought they'd seized the initiative.
Though the northwest line had devastated the enemy's main force, scattered enemies still attempted flanking maneuvers. As I scanned the perimeter feeds, I enlarged the east-side surveillance and suddenly spotted a ten-man squad creeping along the tree line's edge, their target seemingly... the study's direction.
My heartbeat instantly accelerated.
"Gabriel." I immediately switched channels. "East side, enemy squad detected, ten men, approaching my position, distance approximately two hundred meters."
"Can you handle it?" His voice remained calm, but I caught a trace of tension.
I took a deep breath, staring at that squad's movement pattern on screen. Their formation was cautious, using trees and buildings for cover, clearly well-trained elites.
"Yes," I answered.
Quincy had already pulled up the backup firing point control interface near the study, placing it before me. "Two fixed firing positions, one north side, one east, coverage spans the entire area."
I took the controller, finger hovering above the trigger button. On screen, that squad had entered the firing coverage zone, but they remained completely unaware.
"Wait until they're closer," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone.
One hundred fifty meters.
One hundred meters.
They stopped, seemingly observing the study's defenses. The leader made a gesture, the squad began dispersing, preparing to approach from two directions simultaneously.
Now.
I pressed the north-side firing point trigger.
Rat-tat-tat-tat—
The heavy machine gun's roar tore through the air, bullets precisely sweeping the squad's left flank. Three men dropped instantly, the rest scrambling for cover.
But I didn't give them the chance.
The east-side firing point activated simultaneously, forming crossfire from another angle. Those trying to dodge were caught between two streams of fire, dropping one after another.
The entire process took less than thirty seconds.
When the gunfire stopped, the screen showed only ten corpses and a pool of blood.
I lowered the controller, fingers still trembling, but this time not from fear—rather some indescribable emotion, perhaps the release after extreme tension, perhaps the aftershock of commanding combat independently for the first time.
"Threat eliminated," I reported to Gabriel. "East-side squad all neutralized."
"Well done." His voice carried obvious approval. "Continue monitoring other areas."
I swept my gaze across the surveillance feeds again, forcing myself not to think about how those ten men had just died. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such things.
At the main gate, the battle entered its white-hot phase. Russell's fifty reinforcements had already charged into that "retreat passage," thinking they'd broken through Sullivan's defensive line. But when they reached the corridor's midpoint, both sides suddenly erupted with fierce gunfire—Aiden's squad opened fire simultaneously from preset ambush points.
That narrow passage instantly became a death trap. The enemy was caught front and back, nowhere to escape, could only take the beating passively.