Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 185 Jade Shattered (Eighth Update)
Li De's brief appearance was like a blurry yet sharp lens, reflecting his past in his mind and making his current situation even clearer.

He was no longer the soldier who could fight for some grand ideal—whether it was real or not—nor the mercenary who fought for survival and the euro in the streets and alleys.

So now, what exactly is he?
Is it an even sharper weapon in the boss's hands?

Or is it that even with superhuman strength, one is still trapped in the eternal cycle of war, like a caged beast?
Before the fog of his thoughts could dissipate, a few flashing spots of light suddenly appeared on the distant horizon, followed by a muffled and dense roar of engines, abruptly interrupting his introspection.

"Attention! Enemy unit appears! Frontal direction!" The voice of the Ghosthound frontline observer suddenly rose in the communication channel, carrying an urgent warning.

All distracting thoughts were cleared away in an instant.

Mann's crimson optical lens focused sharply, locking onto the distance.

In the field of vision, dozens of crudely modified armed vehicles, like mad dogs broken free of their reins, kicked up clouds of dust and charged straight toward the defensive line with an unbridled frenzy.

On those vehicles, Arasaka's emblem was crudely sprayed or engraved, and some vehicles were clearly surrounded by bulky explosives.

The people on the vehicle were a motley crew, some wearing tattered company uniforms, others even in casual clothes, but their faces all wore a look that was a mixture of madness and determination. They opened their mouths in silence, as if uttering a silent war cry, and their weapons began to spew a hail of bullets at the defensive line.

"They're here!" Mann growled, the bionic skin on his left arm sliding open, and a ghostly blue light began to gather at the muzzle of the precision-engineered plasma cannon. "Rebecca, suppress the front! Dorio, watch the flanks! Pila, burn those that get too close!"

The battle erupted instantly.

On the Ghost Hound's position, light and heavy firepower sprayed out simultaneously, weaving together a deadly barrage.

The first few Arasaka vehicles were torn apart by the dense hail of bullets almost instantly, turning into burning wreckage.

However, the following vehicles did not slow down at all; instead, they accelerated and sped forward, stepping on the wreckage of their companions, in an even more frenzied manner.

Rebecca's heavy bomb gun roared terrifyingly, each explosion accompanied by the complete disintegration of an assault vehicle, sending metal fragments and human tissue flying everywhere.

Dorio stood firm at the forefront of the defense line like a rock, the shock generator was at full power, and the visible shock waves lifted the vehicles that tried to get close to it off their feet and slammed them back to the ground.

Pira's flamethrower continuously spewed out viscous, ghostly blue promethium flames, creating a wall of death in front of the position, turning any enemy who tried to cross it into screaming charred remains.

Mann's movements were precise and efficient. With each deep hum of the plasma cannon on his left arm, a dazzling azure ball of light shot out, instantly vaporizing the target vehicle and creating a huge hole with molten edges.

He was like a perfect killing machine, but deep down, the scene before him kept overlapping and intertwining with fragments of memories from past wars.

It's the same: charging and dying. But the enemy before us has abandoned all tactics, leaving only the most primal madness.

Just then, a completely different, heavy roar came from the flank of the position.

The two "Assault Team-VII" powered armors belonging to the Lhasa Road Squad were finally activated.

The nearly three-meter-tall steel body suddenly pushed off the ground under the drive of the hydraulic system. The auxiliary thrusters on its back burst out with short bursts of blue flames and, with a speed disproportionate to its massive size, smashed into the scattered flanks of the Aragaka remnants like two heavy hammers.

Their movements are concise, brutal, and efficient.

An automated turret on the shoulder of a power armor briefly hissed, its precise bursts of fire tearing apart several Arasaka soldiers who had just emerged from behind the burning wreckage of a vehicle, along with the bunker they were hiding in.

The other was even more direct, its massive metal feet ruthlessly trampling over an enemy who was charging at it with a roar, his body strapped with explosives, turning him and the detonator in his arms into a bloody pulp.

Faced with these steel giants, the small-caliber weapons in the hands of Arasaka's remnants seemed utterly ridiculous.

Bullets hitting the composite armor could only create a few sparks, failing to even slow them down. A rapid salvo from a multi-barrel grenade launcher at the tip of a power armor's robotic arm instantly engulfed seven or eight enemies gathered together in the smoke of the explosion.

The other vehicle wielded its heavy power claws, tearing an armed pickup truck, along with its occupants, in half as if a hot knife through butter.

The brief impact of these two power armors on the enemy ranks was like a boulder rolling into an ant colony. In just over ten seconds, they completely crushed a dozen or so members of the Arasaka assault team on the flank, leaving only a pile of wreckage mixed with blood, flesh, and metal.

"They're insane!" Pila shouted over the channel, maintaining his flamethrower, his voice a mix of fighting excitement and a hint of bewilderment at the suicidal attack.

“They’re throwing their lives away,” Mann replied calmly, as the plasma cannon roared again, vaporizing the front of a truck that was trying to crash into the Power Methyl type, “for some twisted concept of loyalty.”

The battle was brutal but short.

The Arasaka Suicide Squad's frenzied attack quickly crumbled under the intense firepower of the Ghost Hounds, the unconventional strikes of the Mann Squad, and the overwhelming power of the Lazarus Power Armor.

Like a surging wave crashing against an indestructible reef, shattering into pieces.

When the last Arasaka vehicle was accurately shot and blown up by Rebecca in the distance, turning into an expanding fireball, the battlefield finally gradually quieted down.

Only the crackling of burning debris and the faint, fading groans of the wounded remained.

Mann stood behind the cover, looking at the hellish scene before him, and slowly retracted the plasma cannon arm.

The air was thick with the nauseating smell of gunpowder, ozone, burning rubber, and charred flesh.

A sergeant from the Ghost Hounds strode over, his face etched with dirt and sweat, his eyes a mixture of post-battle excitement and a hint of barely perceptible unease.

“Well done, Mr. Mann! You’ve really helped us a lot!” His voice was half an octave higher than usual, trembling with the shock of having just experienced a life-or-death battle.

Mann nodded very slightly in response.

His gaze passed over the still-burning, crackling wreckage before him, landing on the blurred skyline of Night City and further on the dark sea where the Moby-Dick might be lurking.

This is just the beginning.

A reconnaissance mission disguised in despair and fanaticism, a ruthless attrition.

Arasaka's true main force—those well-trained soldiers and real steel behemoths—is still hidden behind the scenes and has not yet made its appearance.

And he, his team, everyone here, have been ruthlessly drawn into this enormous vortex woven from corporate ambition, years of hatred, and a deeper conspiracy.

The war has never changed.

And it seems that he never truly escaped this killing field.

Solomon Reed's words, mockingly uttered by fate, "Take care of yourself, old man," still seem to whisper in my ear.

He unconsciously clenched his fist, the metallic knuckles making a subtle yet clear grinding sound in the silence.

No matter the reason or where we are, survival is the only and eternal truth at this moment.

(End of this chapter)