The battle with the Blackblood Army Ants was over, but the tension still lingered in the air, like the echo of a distant thunderstorm. Bodies of the monstrous ants littered the charred earth, their black exoskeletons cracked and smoking from the relentless barrage of bullets, explosives, and other exotic attacks.
The combatants were scattered across the battleground, some catching their breath, others reloading out of habit or tending to minor wounds The battle had been intense, but they had made it through relatively unscathed.
Rion stood among them, letting out a controlled breath as we wiped the sweat off his brow. His hands were still steady, though his body hummed with the aftermath of adrenaline. His sharp gaze scanned the battlefield, mentally cataloging the damage.
A few non-combatant teammates were already picking through the remains, eager to salvage any valuable materials from the Blackbloods. The handlers, specialized in processing mutated beast parts, had started their methodical work without delay.
"All in a day's work, huh?" Rion muttered under his breath, his rifle hanging loosely from his shoulder, still humming faintly from the excessive heat generated during the fight. For now, it had served its purpose.
Commander Kellen, her usual stern face now showing a glimmer of satisfaction, surveyed the remnants of her squad. She was one of those commanders who didn't throw compliments around lightly, but there was no denying that her team had fought exceptionally well today. And Forger… well, the mercenary's skill with the gun had been a standout.
"Alright, people, gather 'round!" Her voice cut through the somber air, drawing the group toward her. She was bruised but upright, her usual commanding presence undimmed by the fight. Her face held a grim sort of satisfaction. "We did well. Damn well."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd as the combatants stood straighter, chins lifted just a little higher. Even the most cynical among them had to admit that they'd fought hard and fought smart.
"And let me make one thing clear," Kellen added, her eyes sweeping over them. "This wasn't an easy mission, and it could've gone sideways at any moment, but we pulled through because we worked together." Her gaze moved from Stone to Rion, and he noticed the slightest upturn in the corner of her mouth. "Some of us even went above and beyond."
Rion felt the crowd instinctively turn toward him. He hadn't realized how many eyes were on him during the fight, but now it was hard to ignore. He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. "Who? Me?"
"You, Forger," Kellen confirmed, smirking. "Whatever tricks you were pulling with that rifle of yours, they worked. Damn good shooting, damn good timing. I'll be making a full report of your exploits when we get back to base."
Rion gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in what might be called a smirk. "You know me, Commander. Just out here trying to make the world a safer place, one giant insect at a time."
A few mercenaries and retainers chuckled, though most were too worn out to offer more than a grin. Still, there was no mistaking the new level of respect that shone in their eyes. Respect for the strong was a universal concept in this world.
Vance, whose face was streaked with dirt, sweat and ichor, sidled up next to Rion, slinging his rifle over his shoulder with an amused grin. "Alright, smart guy, I gotta know—who's your supplier?"
Rion raised an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. "Supplier? You mean for my gear? Oh, you know—just a guy I know. Real handsome fella, barely talks, works in the dark."
Vance chuckled, but his curiosity remained. "C'mon, don't give me that crap. Those shots were too clean, and I saw the kind of firepower you were packing in earlier missions. That's not something you just pick up at a back-alley pawn shop."
Seeing that the other combatants were also interested, Rion sighed dramatically, feigning deep thought. "You're right, doting father. I can't hide it anymore."
Vance selectively ignored the quip, leaning closer in anticipation.
"It's me."
For a moment, Vance stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, he blinked. "Wait—what?"
"I'm the supplier," Rion repeated, deadpan. "I build my own gear. Custom designs, tailor-made for situations exactly like this."
Vance's mouth opened, then closed, clearly not expecting that answer. "You… make this stuff yourself?"
Rion shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Yup. Who else would I trust to make sure my gear doesn't explode in my face mid-battle?"
Vance shook his head, half in disbelief. "So you're telling me you're not only some kind of sharpshooter genius, but you also moonlight as a weapons designer?"
"Moonlight? More like full-time hobby with perks," Rion replied, his voice dripping with sarcastic modesty. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."
There were a few chuckles from the nearby combatants, some of them giving Rion a more approving look than usual. It was clear his performance in battle and mechanical prowress had shifted the dynamic. Even the more tight-lipped members of the squad gave him nods of acknowledgment as they passed.
Vance looked him up and down, clearly still processing it. "I'm not even gonna ask how you figured all that out." He slapped Rion on the shoulder. "Still, you're one hell of a gearhead. My rifle was jamming like crazy back there. Any chance you could help me service it when we get back?"
"Well, sure. In fact, I'd be happy to take a look at everyone's gear back at base. I'll even throw in a special 'we-survived-a-horde-of-giant-ants-together' discount. How does that sound?"
The group laughed, the tension easing a little more as they shared a moment of levity. After today, it was clear that Rion knew what he was doing, both with his own equipment and in battle.
"We'll keep that in mind," one of the older looking retainers muttered with a smirk. "But don't get cocky. You keep pushing that luck of yours, and it'll catch up to you eventually."
Rion grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, don't worry about me," he retorted, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "I've got a lifetime supply of luck stashed away. You'll never catch up."
The other retainers joined in, their laughter filling the air with a warm, camaraderie. Even the stone-faced Stone had a slight smirk on his face.
The current jovial atmosphere was a stark contrast to the tense one that had once permeated the interactions between the mercenaries and retainers. The shared experiences of their journey had forged a bond between them, erasing the lines that had once separated the retainer from hired hand.
Before the friendly banter could continue, one of the scouts returned from their quick recon of the immediate area, panting slightly as he approached Commander Kellen. "Commander, we've scouted ahead. We've got about 2 kilometers left to cover in Delta-19. No more signs of activity, but we'll keep scouting ahead. Shouldn't be much more trouble from here."
Kellen nodded, her expression serious again. "Good. We'll wrap this up and head back to base. Everyone, get back in your vehicles. Let's finish the job."
The scouts disappeared back into the terrain ahead, moving with the practiced ease of those who had survived many such operations. Meanwhile, the rest of the mercenaries clambered into the trucks that had gotten them this far into the wasteland. Rion found his usual spot near the rear of one of the vehicles, giving his rifle a quick once-over as they began to move.
As the engine roared to life, he pulled his rifle onto his lap and began checking it over. Even though he had designed the weapon with ruggedness and reliability in mind, there was only so much he could do. It also didn't help that he was constantly overclocking it with his Resonance ability. The coils near the barrel, particularly, would most likely be showing signs of wear, having been pushed to their limits by the overheating during the fight.
As he traced his finger along the barrel, he could still feel the heat radiating from it. It was clear that certain components would need to be replaced soon if he wanted to maintain the rifle's optimal performance.
Guess I'll have to do a full tune-up later...
The terrain bumped and jolted under the tires, but Rion barely noticed, fully concentrating on his inspection. Despite the wear and tear, he decided not to dismantle the rifle just yet. They still had 2 kilometers of territory to cover, and he wasn't about to get caught without a working weapon if things went sideways again.
Moreover, he was assured of the quality of the weapon. Despite the great forces acting on the rifle whenever it fired at its maximum power, its strong and well-designed structure was continually able to endure the punishment.
The chance that the rifle would malfunction or break down was very low. The weapon he had built was still rugged enough to function with only a minor reduction in power. Once they were back at base, he'd take his time, giving it the maintenance it desperately needed.
The landscape of Delta-19 passed by in a blur of dull browns and grays, broken only by the occasional rocky outcrop or twisted remnants of long-abandoned structures. The journey was surprisingly quiet—no more signs of danger, no more hostile creatures lurking in the shadows. The mercenaries were still on edge at first, but as the kilometers ticked by, the tension began to ease. Even Rion found himself relaxing slightly, though his fingers still occasionally brushed against the trigger of his rifle out of habit.
As the truck sped by, Rion let his thoughts wander, half-listening to the low hum of the truck's engine and the distant chatter on the mercenaries' comms. He liked these moments of quiet, where he could sink into the mechanical rhythm of his mind and plan his next move.
After what felt like an hour of driving, the convoy finally reached the end of Delta-19's perimeter. Kellen gave the all-clear, and the mercenaries relaxed, knowing their mission was complete. The noon sun was high above the horizon, casting long shadows over the wasteland as they turned straight back toward Coca Town, the distant silhouette of the town growing larger with each passing minute.
The rest of the ride was filled with idle chatter, the mercenaries in the other trucks swapping stories over the radio, joking about the day's events and trying to shake off the grimness of their line of work. Rion listened, offering a few jokes himself.
By the time they reached Coca Town, the city was bathed in the light of moonlight and street lamps. The convoy rolled through the gates, greeted by the familiar sounds of civilization—a welcome contrast to the wilderness they had just left behind.
The trucks rolled into the main courtyard of the Normos Family's base, the dust swirling around them as the engines died down. Commander Kellen stepped out first, stretching her arms as if shaking off the weight of the journey.
"Good work today, people. If nothing changes, our team will be scouring Delta-24 in four days, so get your affairs in order. Dismissed."
The mercenaries and retainers dispersed, heading straight for their tents. Vance, stepping out of the truck beside him, clapped a hand on Rion's shoulder. "Well, man, we made it through another one. Guess we'll see if you're as good with fixing gear as you are with shooting."
Rion gave him a lazy grin. "Oh, trust me, dad-bot. After I'm done, your gear's going to work so well, you might actually stand a chance of hitting something next time."
Vance laughed, shaking his head. "You're an asshole, you know that?"
"Yeah," Rion replied, already mentally going over the list of repairs and improvements he was going to make. "But I'm right."
As he and Vance walked away to their shared tent, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie building around him. The team had been strangers, rough-and-tumble fighters just trying to make a living, but now, bit by bit, they were starting to get along better.
It was a useful feeling. Even the super enthusiastic parent, Vance was growing on him a little bit.
Not that he'd admit that to anyone, of course.