Chapter 203: Chapter 203: That’s Far

June 14th, 625

I kneeled by Nonnen as some of the other troops recovered from the shock of the gargantuan intestine. From our vantage point I could see most of what there was to see. For more, we’d have to circle around the area so I could get other perspectives.

It was something I could do myself but Nonnen still wanted a couple other people besides me to collect their own intel. It was redundant but that was protocol and it wasn’t like I cared either way. I was doing the same amount of work regardless.

Nonnen looked at me when I undid my stealth, “Are you fit?”

“Of course,” I nodded, eyes still on the activity below, “How are the rest?”

“They’ll be fine. I’ll be sending two scouts around the front and two more to travel a bit farther down the body, see if they can’t carve out a sample of the outer flesh. We’ll see if it alerts them.”

“I’ll go around the front as well, get counts and see if I can’t find any more functions this intestine hides.”

“You should focus on counting how many Scouts are in the area,” Nonnen looked off into the distance, scanning the area around the intestine, “I’m assuming this thing is heavily guarded, because I’m feeling an Authority 10 down there. You should see if it's being watched just as tightly, kill anything that might spot our scouts, and don’t worry about going loud. There aren’t any Sovereigns and I can handle anything below that.”

“Copy,” I nodded and looked over at him. Calling a Royal a Sovereign was just a quick way of saying they sat at Authority 12, but that still left the bold statement, “You can handle an Authority 11?”

“Don’t think I’ve stopped improving just because I’m old.” He smiled, keeping his gaze on the distance, “I’m working on the Great Barrier, which has given me time to improve my skill. I’d say I’m on par with King Bloods, which means I can fight an Authority 11 Royal at least to a standstill even if I couldn’t win.”

“I suppose. But are you sure you could sense a Sovereign if it were around?”

“That heavily depends and we can never know for sure. I’m willing to bet on the chances, because if there really was one here, we’d be fucked either way.”

“That is true.” I shrugged and reached into my 6th Star, making sure the weapons I wanted were there.

After another few quick words with Nonnen, I was off. He sent out his scouts as well, a pair of knights and a pair of warlocks. I glanced over at them and noticed that they were wearing some environmental camo, ghillie suits, something I had worn all the way back in December. He had taken inspiration from it and decided to implement it specifically for scouts like these who needed concealment in this kind of unfavorable terrain.

Their armor, as well as the armor of the rest of the platoon, was painted red. Like with the Steeds it was a cheap, easy, and simple addition that added to survivability.

Since I got the green light and I had seen a few Scouts already, I didn’t mind using my M40. After making myself disappear and heading down the hill, I tracked one of the Scouts and found a good spot.

I stopped and planted myself once I was within a reasonable range of about 400 meters. I laid down against the side of the hill and took aim, bending my knee and using it as a rest for the rifle. I found the Scout, no trees to provide cover and all the rocks already coated in the red biomat, making its figure obvious.

Aerials were off for stealth purposes, so I couldn’t warn Nonnen, not that he needed it.

I let out a breath and pulled the trigger, the rifle snapping back into my shoulder. I saw bloody mist explode out of the opposite side of the Scout’s head, the body dropping and the spiked wolves around it panicking when the explosion cracked through the valley.

Now all the tens of thousands of monsters in the area were agitated, all of them pausing what they were doing and looking around for whatever caused that noise.

Nonnen, and most of the Snow Doves, had learned to adjust to how I worked ever since I joined them. I made a lot of noise, which meant that once I started shooting, the enemy knew that we were here. However, that didn’t mean they knew where, which is why the Snow Doves had to become adept at the art of misdirection and concealment, taking advantage of chaos instead of breaking down under it.

With that Scout dead our men would have an easier time moving. But there were more, so I repositioned, running while activating my boots to provide some well timed boosts to my speed. With my personal stealth, I moved far faster than the other soldiers who had to rely on visual obscurity instead of outright invisibility.

I quickly relocated while finding my next target, planting down and acquiring another Scout when I was in a good position. The lanky body was centered over my reticle, and I pulled the trigger as soon as I was able.

Another shot, another kill, another burst of adrenaline for all the Scourge around me. I relocated and found yet another target.

As I watched the surrounding movement I noticed just how many Scouts there were. They started showing up in pairs as I got deeper in and more were peeking out from hiding spots beneath the biomat.

Just because you could see nothing above the biomat did not mean that there wasn’t anything below it. I recalled Eric’s threat and the various reports I had read up on. The Scourge was able to use the biomat to their advantage, digging foxholes under it, setting traps or planting themselves for ambush. One of the new species that had shown up were ambush predators, small monsters that could bury themselves below the biomat and remain undetected until someone stepped on or near their hole. Once that happened, it jumped out and launched incredible suicidal attacks with a single, abnormally long talon, capable of taking off legs or, in the worst cases, outright bisecting a man.

They were weak otherwise, easily killed. Even their talon was brittle, good for no more than a single attack before either dulling, chipping, or shattering. But that didn’t matter when the Scourge had no qualms trading lives for lives. In my book, the Scourge was profiting massively, trading one little cretin for a full knight or warlock.

They were like landmines, and their psychological afflictions were almost identical. Nobody wanted to go out and march on lands that could be holding any number of horrific traps. The worst part was how there was no way to pick them out beyond constant specialized spellcasting or an incredible Aura, and they could remain buried, as far as we knew, indefinitely because they could subsist off the biomat. Even better was the fact that they could relocate whenever they wanted to place themselves into better positions, like in the path of a marching battalion.

An extreme example of the biomat’s ability to conceal monsters that I was getting a glimpse of now.

After getting into a new position I planted down again and started picking off multiple Scouts. I ended up killing 6 before turning my attention to the intestine.

Seeing it from head on, I confirmed just how grotesque it was. More importantly, I was able to get some dimensions and see more details regarding its construction, like how those little builder beasts shaped flesh and cartilage. I also noticed a structure being created out of bone, probably something to keep the massive thing from flattening and cutting off the walkway for troops.

I memorized everything before picking off some more Scouts, killing all that I could see.

Once I had killed all Scouts within 600 meters I looked off into the distance and spotted some more, even a couple in fox holes. I decided to lie down and test myself.

My first test was a Scout about 880 meters away.

I could see how fast the wind was through the movement of some hair on a nearby wolf.

Wind speeds automatically appeared in my mind. Moderate winds of about 14 mph near me and slightly stronger winds around my target in the valley going about 26 mph. The slope of the hill was affecting the currents, and yet it wouldn’t affect my shot at all.

I knew my zero was at about 550 meters but because my infusions of Psyka changed the properties of the bullet fired, I had to adapt.

I had fired this gun many times before. I could visualize the bullet and its path. A muzzle velocity of well over 9000 fps after empowerment, a flat bullet arc because of that incredible speed, normal spin…

It was like I could already see the bullet’s path before I fired. I adjusted my aim, centering the reticle slightly below the center of the Scout’s eye.

I pulled the trigger, unable to see the bullet with its impossible speed. All I knew was that it hit exactly where I thought it would, a new hole opening in the Scout’s face.

I could feel my resonance with this particular spirit increase, the rifle feeling better in my hands.

I found my next target.

Even farther away at about 1240 meters was a Cyclops Scout. I recognized its big bulbous eye and took aim.

This time, I centered the reticle just slightly above its pupil and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

Another bullet cracked off, sailing for around half a second before impacting, the bullet dumping its kinetic energy into the head and making it explode out the back.

I could feel the rifle, feel its accuracy, and picked another target, getting ballsy.

Another Cyclops Scout, 1870 meters, over a mile. I put my reticle, once more, just a tad bit over its small figure in my scope. The lines of the reticle looked large in comparison.

I let out a breath, steadying the slight movement my heartbeat caused, feeling total control of my body. I timed my trigger pull so that it snapped back right after my heartbeat ended.

Total stillness, total accuracy. Almost a second after the explosion I saw mist come out of the Scout’s head.

One shot, one kill.

I let back in another breath, my heart resuming its normal tempo as I opened my other eye, one looking through the scope, one beyond the scope.

I could see that dead Scout, knowing the exact trajectory my bullet took to reach it, and I felt an incredible connection with my rifle. It felt like I had grasped its intricacies, like it spoke to me through the bullets it fired. I could feel the temperature of the barrel, the minute inaccuracies of the scope caused by the recoil of the gun, the slightly different properties of each bullet.

I realized it once more, as if I hadn’t before. These guns, these weapons, weren’t just tools. They were spirits, not necessarily intelligent or sapient, but still alive. They weren’t hunks of metal, but something I could connect with through the power of my mind.

It meant I had to treat them accordingly. I had to treat them knowing that I could sense and adjust for various inaccuracies or quirks. These weapons wanted to work with me just as much as I wanted them to perform.

I felt the sheer focus overtaking my body, and suddenly I was motivated to continue shooting. I started finding other unique targets in the enemy camp below, picking out humanoid Royals or other strange monsters that looked strong.

I sent out fully empowered rounds, knowing I had more than enough in my stores for it. Most of my targets were killed in just a single shot. Some were able to take two. What really impressed me was when I managed to hit the exact hole created by my first shot on a scaly lizard monster from around 960 meters away.

Inhuman accuracy was what this was. I had long surpassed normal human capability a while ago, but this was really putting it into perspective for me. I wasn’t capable of conventional superhuman feats like jumping over mountains or lifting up 3 ton boulders, and I wouldn’t go flying through the sky with magic or casting mass destruction spells that made me look like a walking strategic missile.

But the control I had over my body and the power of my mind enabled me to multiply the effectiveness of my guns and bring out their greatest potential lethality. I was someone who leaned into his strengths massively. I could dish out incredible damage, and every advantage I had helped me toward that end.

I don’t know what came over me during this battle, perhaps I was inspired by the pressure from this intestine, as weird as that was. But now of all times, I was starting to feel just how far I’ve come.

After a few hours of combat and causing chaos I retreated. The rest of the Snow Doves had gone back to the Steed, so I met them there.

Even the scouts Nonnen sent had returned, so I was the last to arrive.

I jumped in the Steed, getting a smirk. I saw Amira, the Brigadier to replace Miron, inside as well.

“Have fun?”

“I did, actually. I set some new personal records.”

“Like what?”

“My furthest shot yet, now sitting at 1870 meters. Now it’s time to shoot for the 2000 meter mark.”

“Shit,” Nonnen shook his head, “That's fucking far.”

I smiled, leaning back into my seat.

We went back to camp, tightening patrols since I had wrought havoc. We’d return to base in just a day or so since, now that I was here, collecting intel was a breeze.

I also only had two more weeks left out in the field before returning to the Capital. I was quite excited to get back there and revolutionize the field of battle as this world knew it.

At the same time though, I took a peek into my 6th Star.

There were some new weapons and tools in there that were more than grabbable. I intended to get a hold of them within the week. Ultimately, my personal strength was what mattered the most. I couldn’t be unprepared should something happen while I was here, and while it never really left, my anxiety was beginning to rise. It had spiked when that Sovereign arrived, and it certainly wasn’t going down.

I was counting the weeks until the big fight kicked off. It was a matter of when, not if, and I had a feeling that I’d be in for a fight just as much as everyone else. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om