Eh? You want to try the humanoid girl's iron fist too?

“I’ll wake up on my own,” Raphael said confidently. Then she went to the sofa, sat down, and swayed on the springs like a child. “Ah, so soft. I haven’t slept on anything so soft in a long time.”

“We’ll have something even better in the future,” Jacob said with a smile, completely letting his guard down. “We’ve recovered a lot of good stuff from that warehouse over there. With a little repair, this place can be furnished like a room in a luxury hotel.”

He took his coat off the nail and covered her with it. Although their positions were now completely different, there was no need to be stingy with some things.

"What clothes are you wearing?" she asked.

"War is about to break out, there's no need for it."

"That's not right."

"No, it's true. I always tell the truth. If possible, please remember that when we're friends, Lieutenant."

“Very well,” Raphael said. “May I ask, Captain, how old are you?”

"28 is old."

"really?"

"I've said it before, I always tell the truth."

“Yes, I understand,” Raphael looked at him with the distrust of a young girl. “Of course it’s true, but it doesn’t seem like it. Maybe you really are 28, but you look older than that in any way…”

She closed her eyes, then opened them again...

"You know, I'm so tired, incredibly tired... For the past two days, I've been walking around non-stop, thinking, if only I could lie down and fall asleep..."

Jacob's last guard was down. He took a deep breath and said in a low voice, "Let's rest now."

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 75 The Massive Offensive

"Go to sleep right away... Captain, do you have children?"

"No?"

"Not even a wife?"

"No."

"really?"

Jacob laughed for a while, stood by the door watching her, and repeated, "Alright, rest now."

Raphael stopped talking and closed his eyes.

Jacob stood there for a while, watching her, then sat down at the table and rummaged through his pockets—his cigarette case was nowhere to be found.

He reached into his field backpack, and Jacob found it strange that the cigarette box was somewhere between the map and the military iPad.

He glanced at the cigarette, which was crushed beyond recognition, and picked it up without hesitation to smoke it, as if something special had happened that required him to finish this last cigarette.

The world outside the subway turned a dim yellow, and the ordinary, arduous night he had grown accustomed to began. But in addition to the things he had to worry about that day, there was one more thing to consider.

Although he refused to admit it, he had already felt it: this was his concern for the girl sleeping in the corner, under his winter coat.

This shouldn't be the case. Jacob took the weapons from the armory manager and led his company's soldiers out of the subway station.

He vaguely sensed that this girl was suddenly closely connected to all his future thoughts, to the siege, to death, and to his formal confinement in New York, the city where she was born and raised.

He will never know who Raphael really was.

After slightly adjusting the position and defensive line, Jacob issued a warning. After 17:00 PM, anyone who enters the firing zone must be eliminated.

Standing on the observation platform behind the defensive line, he looked through binoculars at the swaying, tireless figure and suddenly felt that when the time was right, the lieutenant who had come from afar to seek help should leave and cross the river to the other side.

To be honest, he didn't know why he had such a thought.

Was it because the girl was also an officer? But they weren't army soldiers anymore, they were rangers.

Honor is utterly insignificant when it comes to survival.

Imagining this situation would be extremely difficult for him.

Jacob finished his cigarette and stood up.

"Hey buddy, where's your winter coat?" Noah Stanley, the company's deputy officer, asked in surprise.

"It's very heavy to wear, and it's warm today."

"What does it matter if it's heavy? I'll carry it for you when it gets warmer."

"Alright, no need, let's just go like this..."

The battle that night was extremely fierce. Even two-meter-tall giants appeared, and Jacob had to personally pick up an AT-4 (M136) LAW anti-tank rocket to take down one of them.

His B Company was responsible for the left flank of the camp, and Fifth Avenue alone was enough to keep them stretched thin. The light machine guns assigned to the squads were fine for dealing with new ELID infected, but they were struggling to keep up with the older, more aging corpses.

Fortunately, they had the M2HB Laoganma heavy machine gun, which made up for the lack of firepower and manpower.

The MK-18 grenade launchers salvaged from the armored vehicles are also valuable, but their ammunition reserves are running low, so they have to use them sparingly.

Although they were trying to save money in certain areas, the supplies airdropped into the city over the past two weeks had already included the grenades and disposable rocket launchers they needed. It was as if someone was watching them, even knowing what their surviving army needed most.

Jacob was no fool, and his boss, Charles Billis, was no idiot either.

There must be someone monitoring their every move, knowing not only what the survivor army is doing, but also what they are thinking.

"Perhaps it was the work of those traitorous agents," Jacob thought. He waved his hand, and the grenade launchers began to roar to life.

This time it was more powerful and accurate than usual. His artillery crew had already calculated the firing data of the grenade launcher, and it could almost be used as a mortar.

He gave the order to fire, because there were far more enemies coming from this wide street than before, which meant that a particularly fierce attack was inevitable tonight.

By 20:11 p.m., the intensity of the interception battle proved his judgment correct.

ELID infected individuals don't care about guns or cannons at all. Unless they are caught in the absolute lethal zone of weapons such as grenades or hand grenades, they will continue to move forward until their bodies are completely destroyed.

If you lose your legs, you use your hands; if you lose your hands, you move your body by wriggling.

Jacob didn't understand the principle behind it, but he knew that destroying the brain should stop the infected people completely.

He concentrated the company's marksmen for use, specifically targeting ELID infected individuals who could continue advancing after being swept away by light and heavy machine guns and low-pressure grenades.

Riflemen used M4A1s to slow down the enemy's advance, because the M855 green-tipped bullets were like scraping the skin of a person whose body was silicified.

At that moment, Jacob thought of Raphael, who was still in the lounge, and the XM5 assault rifle and XM250 squad machine gun in her hands.

If possible, the lieutenant should be able to help tonight? That way, he'll have more confidence when he meets Lieutenant Colonel Charles Billis.

At least it gives the impression that "the young girl is not a high-ranking military personnel, but a colleague who was forced to stay in the city to survive," and she even participated in the battle with her limited ammunition.

“Noah, go to the lounge and call the lieutenant over. Tell her to bring her equipment and weapons,” he said to Noah.

"Hmm? When did a new officer arrive at the company headquarters?"

“She’s a Navy lieutenant who was forced to stay in Manhattan after the greenback outbreak,” Jacob explained. “She managed to get a weapon from the NGSW program from a supply crate left in the Dark Zone by the JTF Joint Operations Force, which should be helpful.”

"The one that uses 6.8mm ammunition?" Noah asked.

"Yes, having one more machine gun is better than anything else."

Jacob considered the best placement for Lieutenant Raphael's XM250. After all, she had to be the core of B Company's second line of defense.

Soon, a surprising presence appeared among the ELID infected: a "person" carrying a flamethrower staggered forward, spewing flames at the defensive positions built by the survivor army with barricades and caltrops.

"An ELID infected by the Purifiers?" Jacob asked himself, answering his own question.

There were quite a few people; he estimated with his eyes that there were about two companies of them. Those "elites" with weapons couldn't distinguish friend from foe, and often set their comrades in front of them on fire, turning them into slowly moving torches.

This is completely different from the situation on the Syrian battlefield, where guerrilla forces would retreat when their offensive was thwarted. But the lunatics here only know how to advance, and then reach into the belly of their prey and tear it to pieces.

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 76 Finding a Treasure

Clang, clang, clang, clang—the sound of exploding shells was neither too loud nor too soft, but enough to let the whole city know what was happening here.

“The survivor army is even using mortars.” Doug Sutton peered through his scope at the battle raging on the northern section of Fifth Avenue, where he saw gruesome, mutilated corpses torn to pieces by shrapnel.

The bombing seemed to have ended, but the sounds of light and heavy machine guns firing in short bursts continued until five o'clock, before the bombing soon resumed.

This round of mortar bombardment lasted longer, but the duration was not important; the main point was the effect of the bombardment.

Doug observed that the blast from the mortar wasn't very effective against ELID infected; it was mostly large pieces of debris flying at high speed.

At the very least, none of the infected people directly hit by the explosion could stand up.

What puzzled Doug was that the survivor army had such a sufficient supply of ammunition without any formal supplies; it was nothing short of a miracle.

As dusk approached, Doug began to worry about Raphael. He could offer some watchful protection with his weapon when she was in contact with the patrol, but once she entered the survivor army's territory, she would have to rely on herself.

Although the Survivor Army was originally the 75th Ranger Regiment, their public statements have never changed. They have clearly declared that they have broken away from the Army's command chain and decided to fight for survival.

Raphael's explicit identification of himself might have provoked resentment.

He and his teammates were very worried. Furthermore, the survivor army had extremely strict management of its inmates. Getting sick meant death, without exception.

Of course, this is an acceptable rule. In chaotic times, harsh measures are necessary; cutting off the chain of infection is more important than anything else.

For Lieutenant Colonel Charles Billis, who wanted to restore order, eliminating destabilizing factors in a timely manner was his top priority, followed by governance.

Coupled with her leg injury, for the survivor army, it was undoubtedly like repeatedly dancing to their own rules.

Meanwhile, Jacob gathered about 12 automatic riflemen in the dim light. He decided that he could not leave the infected with missing limbs until the night was over, so he deployed them to the outer perimeter of the first line of defense to execute the infected who could not move or could only crawl.

He also concentrated snipers to cover the execution squads operating on the outer perimeter of the defensive line.

At that moment, Raphael arrived. He appeared on the second line of defense, carrying a machine gun, which immediately drew whistles and cheers. Many soldiers shouted praises for Company Commander Jacob's reliability.

However, due to exhaustion and the sound of cannon fire, he failed to notice the cheers of his men. Earlier

He was thrown against a wall by the blast wave from a nearby mortar explosion, and his head is still ringing.

Therefore, at this moment, he realized that when he became excited later, he was also annoyed, deaf, and extremely tired, and he almost had to mechanically do what needed to be done.

The sheer number of ELID infected terrified him, even though most of them were unarmed. The sheer number was enough of a problem, just like with the Griffin recovery team back then…

Those guys are really arrogant and crazy.

He intended to dissuade them, but they proudly told him:

They are one of the few professions in the military that excludes women, and they can call themselves "Special Operators".

These are individuals who hold core and basic combat positions within ground special operations forces and have obtained the relevant qualifications. They are also among the highest-ranking special forces units in the U.S. military, specializing in "impossible missions."

For many, becoming a Tier-1 special forces member represents exceptional combat capability. This profession and title mean that they are physically strong, brave and skilled in combat, able to endure hardship and complete missions under near-impossible circumstances.

They consider excessive comfort—spring mattresses, sweaters, even cold medicine—to be for crying, and will mercilessly mock those who bring such things.

Before the retrieval mission officially began, they had to conduct combat training every night. Although, in Jacob's eyes, it was almost indistinguishable from a fight. They used judo techniques to slam each other's heads onto the tent floor.