Not enough Japanese devils to kill? 1.4 billion people volunteer for the Battle of Shanghai.

Across the street, behind the ruins.

Koji Ishida and the remaining twenty-odd Japanese soldiers stared wide-eyed like dead fish.

They saw a flash of light!

I saw Nakamura's head, cut cleanly and neatly from the very center, like splitting firewood.

Cracked.

then.

The body fell straight down.

The remaining Japanese soldiers were desperately retreating, completely terrified.

「あ……あくま……」

(Evil... Demon...)

「この人……すごくviolentだね……」

「ど……どうすればいいですか……」

In those few seconds when the Japanese soldiers were stunned, trembling, and dumbfounded—

A gunshot rang out from inside the small building.

Chinese soldiers, pressing their advantage, fired at the Japanese army with their remaining ammunition.

The best marksman was the deputy squad leader of the ninth squad.

This is a sharpshooter.

Every bullet eliminates an enemy.

Beside Ishida Koji, a Japanese soldier who was lying on the ground and had been frightened into talking suddenly jerked his head back.

Then it twitched twice and stopped moving.

Immediately afterwards, another veteran fired his gun.

A Japanese soldier who had just poked half his head out from behind the bunker to get a better look at the situation had a burst of blood erupt from the center of his forehead.

He didn't even have time to make a sound before he slid softly into the ruins, like a fish with its bones removed.

The third shot.

The fourth shot.

Gunfire continued to erupt from the Chinese soldiers' side.

Every shot is a headshot.

Good luck keeps coming.

Behind the ruins, the Japanese army was completely thrown into chaos.

"Ambush! An ambush!"

"Retreat! Retreat now!"

The surviving Japanese soldiers ran backward like scattered pheasants, and more and more Japanese soldiers were killed.

Koji Ishida was the first person to run backwards.

Because he had been hiding behind the crowd.

After returning to the bunker, he trembled violently, clutching his head tightly and muttering something unintelligible.

When he finally mustered his courage and peeked half an eye out from the edge of the bunker—

It's quiet over there in the small building.

Koji Ishida was panting heavily.

My legs were shaking uncontrollably.

Like chaff being sifted, like trembling, like withered leaves in the wind.

He pressed his hands hard against his knee, trying to stop it, but it didn't work.

Shaking even more.

Beside him, Matsumoto slumped to the ground, his eyes vacant, repeatedly uttering the same phrase:

「あくま……あくま……」

(Demon...demon...)

Private First Class Ota huddled in a corner, not even knowing where he had thrown his gun, his hands covering his head like a frightened ostrich.

The other soldiers either lay down or knelt, none of them daring to stand up straight.

No one dared to look directly at that small building.

Ishida looked at his men—the elite of the mighty Imperial Japanese Army—who had been beaten into such a sorry state by a dozen or so wounded Chinese soldiers who couldn’t even stand up.

He felt a fire burning in his chest.

That fire made his throat dry and his temples throb.

But when he looked at that small building again, at that dark, gaping door—

The fire, as if doused with a bucket of ice water, went out with a "hiss".

All that remained was thick smoke.

All that's left is frustration.

"Damn it!!!"

Ishida suddenly roared:

"Baka! Baka! Baka—!!!"

"A dozen or so! A dozen or so remnants of the Chinese army! And that's enough to scare you like this!"

He pointed at Matsumoto, and at his soaking wet crotch:

"You! You wet your pants before the war even starts! What kind of Imperial Army soldier are you?!"

Then it points to Ota:

"You! You've been fighting for two years! And today you can't even hold a gun properly!"

Then point to other people:

"You! More than twenty people! You were shot down like turtles!"

"You—you have utterly disgraced the Great Japanese Empire—!!!"

Ishida was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently.

He cursed fiercely, loudly, and forcefully.

But for some reason, he himself felt that these words of criticism were... very weak.

Regardless, the more fiercely he cursed, the more he was able to mask his fear.

The louder he cursed, the more he could convince himself that he was still that "heroic imperial officer".

"Captain..." Matsumoto finally snapped out of his daze, swallowing hard. "What...what do we do?"

Ishida immediately started cursing "useless".

But the words stuck in his throat.

Because he also wanted to ask: What should we do?

A siege? They didn't have much ammunition, and who knew if there were any Chinese soldiers inside the building? What if reinforcements arrived?

Retreat? That's even more unacceptable. He just gave such a fierce dressing-down; if he retreats first, how will he lead troops in the future? Besides, if he's investigated by his superiors, he can't bear the accusation of retreating in the face of battle.

Neither advancing nor retreating is an option.

Koji Ishida's temples throbbed even more violently.

Just then—

Ota, who had been huddled in the corner, pale-faced and trembling, suddenly raised his head.

His eyes, which had been filled with terror, slowly transformed into a... eerie light.

"Team... Captain..."

Ota spoke, his voice still trembling, but it already showed a hint of life:

"I...I have a way..."