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Chapter 7 C
🕑 Added 2025-01-31 17:07:06 +0000 UTCChapter 7 C
One enemy after another fell under Jack’s rifle fire, and a stream of notifications about gained Potential Points flooded his vision—too quickly for him to pay full attention to at the moment.
…
Once he finished off the squad on the left, the group flanking from the right had already come into range.
“Open fire!”
In truth, the moment they saw their comrades dropping like flies, the attackers were already fueled by rage and hatred. Bullets whipped toward Jack in a hurricane of steel.
Fortunately for him, he was hunkered down in a foxhole. He ducked his head and avoided damage as rounds churned up dirt and grass.
These foes weren’t amateurs like Raffen Shiv. They had genuine tactical discipline. Rather than spraying all at once, they took turns laying down fire. While some fired, the others reloaded or held their aim, ensuring no gap in their barrage as they advanced.
“Grenades at the ready!”
Half of them continued shooting to keep Jack pinned, while the other half readied grenades, pulling pins with grim intent. But just as they were about to hurl them, a twist of fate: the automated turret—which by all rights should have been on their side—swiveled its barrel toward them.
In the stunned silence, the turret’s heavy machine gun roared to life, spewing a torrent of lead. A kinetic sniper rifle could blow a bowl-sized hole in a man; this heavy gun equaled that power.
But in fully automatic bursts.
Shredded by the unrelenting metal storm, the attackers scattered in a shower of blood and torn limbs.
.....
When the battle finally ended and the smoke settled, Jack settled onto the edge of the foxhole, taking stock of what he had gained.
From the moment the enemy launched their raid until the last gunshot, Jack had personally killed thirty people, netting him 3 Potential Points. In addition, his repeated use of Sword Mastery, Shooting Mastery, and Dodge raised each by one level.
He scoured every corpse for valuables, netting only a few hundred eurodollars. Then he noticed the emblem on the dead attackers. It belonged to the Snake Nation.
Every nomad bore a marker—like a brand label on clothing—representing their family, tribe, or nation.
While conflicts and disagreements among nomads did exist, they rarely escalated into all-out war. For it to come to a battle like this, only one possibility made sense:
Something had happened to Charey’s group.
…
Originally, twelve nomads had stayed behind in the camp. By the end of the attack, more than half were dead, leaving only four survivors. Ironically, the irksome mechanic who had constantly butted heads with Jack wasn’t among those who lived.
Those four looked at Jack with a chaotic mix of shock, gratitude, and relief as he reentered the camp. They hadn’t had time to bury their fallen comrades when the sentry on the high ground shouted:
“Look sharp—another vehicle inbound!”
All four raised their guns to aim at the off-road vehicle rumbling across the badlands.
Jack pressed their weapons down.
“Hold on, don’t shoot. They’re flying a white flag.”
Though Jack had been with the Bakker family for less than a year, his performance just now was beyond question; without him, they’d all be dead. So they listened.
The off-roader slowed far away and eased to a stop. When someone climbed out, everyone realized it was McCoy, who had left with Charey just the day before.
Their wary faces relaxed immediately. In such grim circumstances, reuniting with a companion was reason to celebrate. Nobody gave much thought to why McCoy was driving a different vehicle from before, or why he was coming from the same direction as the Snake Nation attackers. Coincidence or…?
Still, they had no time to dwell on it. One of the nomads tapped McCoy on the shoulder, relief shining in his eyes.
“McCoy, man, it’s so good to see you.”
McCoy forced a wry smile.
“Wish I could say the same.”
The nomad blinked in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Hang on,” another spoke up. “McCoy, where’s Charey? Where’s everyone else?”
“Charey’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? McCoy, what happened?”
McCoy lit a cigarette before explaining what had occurred:
Yesterday, Charey led most of the Bakker family away, planning to ambush a Snake Nation convoy. Inter-nomad fights were taboo. Any family or tribe that tried such a thing would be cut off by the rest of the nomad community. In the worst case, they might even be treated like the Raffen Shiv.
Life was already hard for nomads, being shunned by the city. If they also fell out with other families and tribes, their future was bleak.
But Charey thought if he killed everyone in the convoy, no one would know who was responsible. Looting the Snake Nation’s cargo would keep the Bakker family afloat a while longer.
Yet Charey never considered that Snake Nation were also nomads—one of the seven major nations—and they frequently robbed corporate shipments themselves. Why wouldn’t they be prepared?
They didn’t anticipate another nomad group attacking them, however, they were well-prepared for an ambush from the Raffen Shiv, and the Bakker family fell headlong into a trap.
“It was a massacre.”
McCoy’s face was bleak, as though even recalling the event pained him.
“There wasn’t cargo in the truck, just Snake Nation fighters lying in wait for the Raffen Shiv. We stumbled into them, and it was a bloodbath.”
“Half our brothers died in the firefight. The rest either fled or surrendered.”
A nomad couldn’t help asking, “What about the ones who escaped? We haven’t seen them. Did you get separated?”
“And Charey?” another asked.
McCoy spat on the ground.
“The bastard ran off without a word, like a coward.”
“The others who got away aren’t with us now.”
“I… along with some of our brothers… were captured by the Snake Nation. We’ve joined them.”
A collective gasp erupted.
“What?!”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. He’d seen enough clues to guess, but it was still staggering. In Serita’s era, the Bakker family was once famous, yet within two years of her death, they’d fallen so low.
“If you’re with Snake Nation now,” another survivor demanded, “why are you here?”
“McCoy, do you realize how many they’ve killed? Practically all that’s left of our camp is right here!”
Their rage and grief blazed at McCoy. If looks could kill, he’d be in pieces. He couldn’t blame them for their fury.
“Snake Nation sent me here. They saw how fiercely you fought and decided to give you two choices:
“You can join them, just like I did—just like the others.
“Or you can take your guns, grab a vehicle, and leave this camp for good. Don’t ever come back.”
Jack’s voice was tight.
“So you’re telling us we need to abandon the Bakker camp?”
McCoy nodded.
“That’s right.”
A different nomad burst out, “What about the Bakker family itself?!”
McCoy sighed.
“Don’t you get it? After today, there is no Bakker family anymore.”
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