Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

Amiya herself didn't mean it that way. As a sorceress, she had the immediate instinct to protect herself. However, after quickly assessing the situation, she spoke up first and asked, "Mr. Milan? Is this considered normal in your area?"

"The gangs in Ursus wouldn't be able to cause such a commotion."

Milan's expression quickly turned cold. He reached out to hold onto the table, and the moment he stood up, the armor appeared on his body like a phantom, covering his entire body in the blink of an eye, making his voice muffled due to the visor.

"When we say 'nothing unexpected happens,' something unexpected always happens... Ugh, I hate world line correction forces, really."

"World lines... what?"

Amiya was still puzzled.

The iron gate outside the outpost was opened, and a member of the team, covered in cigarette smoke, rushed in, breathing slightly rapidly, and said, "Leader! The outer perimeter has been attacked! The enemy is well-equipped, ruthless in their fighting style, and has many spellcasters. We're being suppressed!"

"Can you recognize who it is?"

Milan simply nodded slightly to the Rhodes Island group and walked straight toward the main gate; the white-armored guard followed closely behind, saying, "I don't know, I can't confirm their identity, but they look like they have a full-length armband that resembles a 'Bahe Movement' and have horns all over, so they look like demons... Sarkaz."

"Sarkaz mercenaries."

Milan narrowed his eyes: "Notify each squad to use the roads as cover to retreat, gradually tighten the defenses, let them in and entangle them, and leave the tough ones to me."

"Yes!"

The guards obeyed and quickly left, while Ace and Amiya followed.

"Mr. Milan, what do you need us to do?"

Amiya looked somewhat worried.

“...Protect yourself.”

Milan glanced at her resolute expression, then at the group of operators around her—he nodded to Ace.

"There's no need to rush into direct combat. Uninvited guests like us should at least show some value, shouldn't we?"

"If I had to say, I'd be leaving the responsibility of ensuring our safety net to you."

Amiya was about to say something when Milan interrupted her. He reached out his armored hand and, before any of the operators could react, ruffled Amiya's hair. He chuckled softly at the little bunny's bewildered gaze, and then strode away without delay.

Ace glanced at Amiya, and after receiving a look of approval from the latter, he selected a few people to follow, while the others stayed by Amiya's side as the next group to follow.

Amiya's current identity is not that of a caster participating in the war, but rather the CEO of Rhodes Island.

When Milan arrived at the combat zone, the battle was in full swing: the four groups of canned food soldiers were fighting and retreating, and were being gradually suppressed while exchanging fire with the enemy.

It was clear that they were not adept at dealing with this type of combat: the intensity of firepower, the overwhelming suppressive fire, and the Sarkaz warriors' fearless assaults were all situations they had never encountered before.

Unlike gangs that primarily use light weapons, these Sarkaz greatsword users are very powerful. Their equipment advantage is hard to overcome against greatswords, and they are already doing their best to protect themselves. Not to mention, perhaps because they are Sarkaz, there are quite a few Originium Arts users on the other side, which has caused a lot of trouble for Canned Food.

One guy in particular, who caused a lot of explosions and made a lot of noise, was especially eye-catching.

"That person... I think I've seen them before!"

Ace, who was standing next to Milan, suddenly spoke.

Milan looked in the direction of the sound... well, even without looking, he could guess who it was just by listening to the noise.

"They must be the mercenaries we dealt with during the Tower of Babel era."

“Hedley, Ines, and…”

—W.

Chapter 90 Sarkaz Mercenaries

The rhythm of the battle was entirely in the hands of the Sarkaz mercenaries.

Previously, when facing ordinary gangs and integrated thugs, the Canned Food Squad was able to gain an advantage by relying on their indestructible armor and powerful weapons, and even at one point... no, it could be said that they always kept the battle under their control.

Forget about their actual strength, just consider whether they won or not in the end.

But at this moment, they experienced for the first time what real, suffocating occupational violence is like.

He was even different from that short cadre of the Integration Movement.

The Sarkaz swordsmen's blades flash like venomous snakes. Their exquisite swordsmanship, honed through countless battles, may lack a clear pattern, but it is enough to overwhelm them technically, easily finding openings in their clumsy movements. With each deflection, swipe, and turn of their longswords, the swordsmen can deflect the heavy blows of the canned soldiers' melee hands, followed by a swift and ruthless counterattack.

The swordsman's sharp thrusts and slashes always landed precisely on the joints or seams of the armor, not even missing the face; any ordinary armor forged by mortals in this world, even if it were made of genuine steel, would hardly be able to protect the wearer under such an attack.

The Sarkaz greatsword fighters were an opponent who made them feel powerless in a head-on clash: when facing the tall and strong Sarkaz warriors and their greatswords that were as tall as them, the advantage of the canned melee hand's weapon's actual weight was hard to realize, strength no longer had the upper hand, and the difference in skill became clear - sparks and bone fragments flew when the weapons collided, and even in the midst of a fight, their arms ached, as if they were bearing an excessive burden.

But as an opponent, the Sarkaz greatsword user could still flex his arm muscles and roar as he swung his greatsword with a whooshing sound.

What's even more terrifying is the seemingly ubiquitous Originium Arts.

The Sarkaz race has a deeper connection with Originium by nature. To say they are amicable would be a bit of a dark joke, but this race is indeed more susceptible to Oripathy and more likely to benefit from Originium infection.

Among the Sarkaz, the proportion of Originium Arts practitioners is quite astonishing. Even if they are not professional casters, they possess skills that have been tested in war and integrated their Originium Arts into actual combat. These skills, such as enchanting weapons to cause additional damage or strengthening muscles to improve physical functions, are not uncommon among this group.

Meanwhile, the true Sarkaz sorcerers in the ranks were weaving real firepower—magic bullets, fireballs, shockwaves, and tricky control spells, all interspersed among the actions of the frontline soldiers as they rained down on the canned goods.

"Alternate cover! Shrink the defense! Concentrate towards the center!"

"Retreat to the next safety gate!"

Alexei's voice was filled with rapid breathing as he struggled to give orders amidst the noise, striving to carry out Milan's commands; but these orders were less about tactics and more about giving order to the inevitable retreat—even without these orders, all they could do was retreat step by step, the only difference being that their retreat was now slightly more organized.

They had to face a harsh reality.

That is, compared with their current opponents, the previous "battles" were at best minor skirmishes. The enemy in front of them was a war machine forged in the Kazdel Civil War and other mercenary battlefields. Compared with their hastily assembled group of workers and refugees, the two sides' fighting methods and understanding of "battle" were on completely different levels.

If Milan's creations hadn't followed MC's illogical rules—that the armor wouldn't break as long as its durability wasn't depleted—then the canned crew members who thought, "If it's not a monster like the leader, we're not bad at ordinary battles," would likely have suffered heavy casualties in the first round of contact.

However, while armor can block the sharpness of swords and blades, it cannot completely neutralize the effects of the opponent's offensive: the concentrated force of swords and blades, the impact of explosions, and the attacks of magic are all unavoidable—they are constantly shaken by heavy blows, knocked down and rolled by the shockwaves of explosions, and attacked by various spells that seem to penetrate, as if their internal organs are being churned up in a dizzying bombardment.

They were ultimately too well protected—too well protected by Milan's armor—so much so that even the indirect effects of not being able to injure their flesh and blood in such an intense battlefield made them uneasy and unable to adapt, and their movements inevitably became sluggish and stiff.

However, from the perspective of the attacking Sarkaz mercenaries, this battle was equally frustrating.

This temporarily assembled team was led directly by Garson, the nominal leader of the Sarkaz mercenaries. Taking into account the intelligence obtained from the Bonecrushers, they mainly consisted of swordsmen skilled in close combat and greatsword users adept at frontal assaults. Instead of crossbowmen who were not suited to the complex underground environment, they were equipped with more sorcerers and scouts.

These skilled fighters from different mercenary groups were incredibly experienced; after just a few exchanges, they figured out their opponent's true strength—a complete novice! A total novice!

His skills were crude, full of flaws, his mind was dull, and his combat experience in adapting to the situation was so poor that he could only be called a slow-witted rookie. Apart from his brute strength and decent courage to fight, he was almost useless.

Oh right, even their courage is questionable.

It was that armor that made all the Sarkaz mercenaries' scalps tingle: their swords could only splatter white debris and leave shallow scratches that didn't feel right to the touch when they slashed at it; as for armor penetration and cracks, they were just a dream.

Swordsmen's tricky slashes often only managed to glide away. They felt as if they were not cutting through armored people, but rather using their precious longswords to cut through a rock that looked like a person.

Even if a heavy greatsword were to slash with all its might, making these novices unable to hold their weapons steady, it would still be difficult to pose a real threat to the armor itself.

Even the firepower of the sorcerers—they had witnessed firsthand how the white-armored guards were literally thrown off their feet by the explosion, only to tumble awkwardly a few times on the ground…

Then, shaking his head, with the lingering smoke still clinging to his body, he can get up as if nothing happened and raise his weapon again.

Especially those shield-wielding soldiers, they're just *Sarkaz slang* outrageous, folks!

Even the bomb thrown by that little madman in Hedley's team! After a loud bang, the shield bearer who took the hit head-on was only knocked back a step—and that was it!

The large shield, made of some unknown material, looked smoked and charred, but its structure showed no signs of damage. The person holding the shield appeared somewhat dizzy, yet he was still able to lift it—as if he himself hadn't felt much impact.

Is this reasonable, guys?! Is this reasonable?!

Milan: Don't ask, this is what our MC shield looks like. Take a look at the underlying code.

"What the hell is this thing?"

The swordsman's attacks repeatedly bypassed the parries, but failed to penetrate the white armor; even the mage, far away, couldn't help but curse aloud—even the high-powered spells that had been brewing and charging for a long time could only make the opponent grimace and distort their movements when they hit head-on.

But he can still get up.

In another sense, it looks more like a horror movie.

"No, it's not that it has no effect."

After the initial charge, as they rotated among the mercenary team leaders, a slender scout emerged from the shadows and spoke.

“Our attack was not completely ineffective. It appears that most of the external interference was absorbed by the armor itself, but the impact and energy transmitted in could still affect the wearer’s sensations.”

“They will feel pain and dizziness, and their movements will become stiff and hesitant... Of course, you should also be able to see the impact on morale.”

After calmly finishing her statement, the female scout with very white legs retreated to the side of a Sarkaz greatswordsman.

Just as she said—the enemy's movements became hesitant, and their demoralized state was not hidden, nor could it be concealed from these seasoned mercenaries; that's why they didn't suspect that they had been doing useless work all along.

But it was this realization that made these mercenaries even more resentful.

—No, why should I?

A little shock, a bit of burning, and the impact of rolling on the ground are enough to make these guys cower in fear—what level of combat skills and mental fortitude does that require?

That's it?

This level of injury wouldn't even qualify as a minor injury on a Sarkaz! For them, it's just abrasions that they endured entirely through sheer willpower and continued their relentless attacks in battle!

Wearing this set of gear, they will become truly invincible war machines! Ignoring enemy attacks and charging fearlessly through enemy lines—that's the fighting style that suits this equipment.

Because they were the attackers, they knew all too well the immense pressure the white armor was under; and that's why they found it so unbearable—to them, it wasn't fighting a formidable opponent, but rather wrestling with incredible equipment, a wrestling so intense it felt like they were going to vomit.

—This bunch of good-for-nothings, weaklings, cowards…

Why should they have such a good thing to them?

This is the scene that Milan saw when he arrived at the venue.

The canned food squad struggled against the Sarkaz mercenaries' relentless attacks, their white armor stubbornly protecting them, but Milan could see that the armor itself was becoming quite worn out.

Just like the sluggish movements and scattered formation of his incompetent subordinates, it was clear that they were nearing their limit.

"The situation is not good."

The experienced Ace immediately recognized the gravity of the situation and said in a deep voice:

"Mr. Milan, is there anything we can do for you?"

Thanks, but not for now.

Despite the armor's poor durability, given the current intensity of the battle, it's unlikely to collapse immediately with casualties. Milan wasn't nervous, even though his expression was hidden behind his visor, which made his deep voice sound calm.

Too calm.

But Ace could still hear that Milan's voice sounded somewhat mocking.

"If we want to cooperate with Rhodes Island in the long term, we have to demonstrate our value to the new boss first."

Ace frowned. He couldn't see the equipment's durability, nor had he ever seen Milan's absurd equipment performance, which was more like "adding a shield bar to health points," so he couldn't understand Milan's current joke at all.

“But your men are fighting a fierce battle, and as allies, we cannot stand idly by…”

"Unless absolutely necessary, just sit back and watch. That enemy is not as simple as you think."

Milan pulled out his short bow, his tone suddenly turning serious, and his voice lowered: "Unfortunately, they sent an opponent that is not suitable for you to show yourselves... Those guys are connected to the Military Council, and they are the eyes and ears that Theresis placed in the Reunion Movement."

“It’s not appropriate for Rhodes Island to appear in front of them right now, Ace.”

Ace: "What?"

He was visibly taken aback, not because Milan knew about the potential connection between Rhodes Island and Kazdel, but because Milan was willing to openly discuss such a matter with him.

If that's the case, then Rhodes Island really shouldn't appear in front of such a force until the Doctor is safely rescued.

But is that really the case...? Milan didn't lie, but she didn't explain in detail either. In that brief moment of hesitation, Milan had already rushed out.

His speed wasn't fast, and his armor, which looked significantly more complex than that of the canned armored soldiers, miraculously didn't make a heavy sound, yet it stood out very much when he suddenly entered the battle.

"leader!"

"My lord is here!"

Upon seeing that distinctive iron-gray heavy armor, the low morale of the canned food team members was instantly boosted, and their scattered formation immediately came together. Even the struggle they displayed when they brandished their weapons for a moment made the slippery Sarkaz mercenaries instinctively avoid their attacks.

But the Sarkaz mercenaries' first reaction... they almost cursed aloud.

Oh no, they actually started swearing.

"*Sarkaz swear word*! Another tin can!"

"It's endless, right?"

They were already feeling nauseous from the seemingly indestructible white armor, and when they saw a person in armor even thicker than the white armor appear, they felt so disgusted that they wanted to vomit on the spot.

But then someone realized: this was probably the mysterious leader mentioned in the intelligence, the high-value target...

—What was our original purpose for coming here?

Several quick-witted leaders exchanged glances: Talulah's orders seemed to be to first win over the canned goods people, and only if that failed would they be suppressed and their morale broken...