Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“I know,” Calderon interrupted him, his voice hoarse but steady. “1,600 against 53,000. Fighting head-on would be suicide. But they’re not here to fight in urban warfare. They’re looking for a place to hide and recover their strength. Africa is big enough to hide 53,000 rats.”

“So they chose Africa,” Sam continued. “The terrain is complex, the population is sparse, and the Witcher forces are scattered. They want to drag it out and catch their breath.”

“How long are they going to drag this out?” Dean asked.

There was a moment of silence on the screen.

Wu Heng answered the question for them: "Delay until they recover enough strength, delay until Heaven may reopen, delay until we split up, or delay until Hell strikes again, whatever turning point they can wait for."

He paused.

"So we can't let them drag it out."

“Give the order,” Liz said calmly. “Let’s wipe them out completely.”

"The crackdown will continue," Wu Heng shook his head slightly, "but not now."

He pulled up a new set of monitoring data.

Above the African continent, a translucent, pale golden energy shield is slowly taking shape. The shield covers a vast area, stretching from the southern edge of the Sahara Desert all the way to the northern Congo Basin, spanning more than two thousand kilometers from east to west.

“The Holy Light Barrier.” Wu Heng pointed at the screen. “The defensive fortifications that Basemuse built with all his remaining strength have extremely high energy intensity. Conventional weapons cannot penetrate them. If we attempt to break through, our casualties will exceed acceptable limits.”

Silence fell over the screen.

"So we're just going to watch?" Dean's voice was low, tinged with suppressed anger. "Watch over fifty thousand murderers hide in their turtle shells, wait for them to recover from their injuries, and then come out to continue killing?"

Wu Heng looked at him.

"If you rush into Africa now, with 1,600 men against 53,000, how many can you kill?"

Dean didn't say anything.

"Kill two? Kill four thousand?" Wu Heng continued, "Then all your people will die, and the remaining fifty thousand angels will continue to recuperate in Africa. Three months later, they will break through the wall. What will you use to stop them?"

Dean's cheeks turned white from biting so hard.

Sam held his arm down.

"President," Renault began, "you mean... a ceasefire?"

"It's not a ceasefire," Wu Heng corrected. "It's a strategic adjustment. Africa is currently too difficult to penetrate; a forced attack would only lead to failure. The seven war zones will consolidate their forces, strengthen existing defenses, monitor movements in Africa, and continue to eliminate the remaining scattered angels. We'll wait until the time is right."

"When?" Liz asked.

Wu Heng did not answer immediately.

He pulled up a new set of data, a graph showing the loss of angelic power.

From the day they fell, the energy of all the surviving angels has been declining at a predictable rate. Without supplies from Heaven, they can only survive by burning the remaining grace.

Every battle, every use of Holy Light, accelerates this process.

“Their strength won’t recover,” Wu Heng said. “It will only get weaker. The Holy Light Barrier can stop our bullets, but it can’t stop time. In a month, the barrier’s energy intensity will drop by 40%, and in three months it will drop by 70%. By the time they can even maintain the shield…”

“Let’s go in and harvest,” Calderon said, a glint in his single eye.

Wu Heng nodded.

"Therefore, from now on, the strategic objectives will be adjusted: the seven theater commands will reduce their forces, cease large-scale frontal offensives, and retain rapid reaction teams to continue clearing out stragglers; establish 24/7 monitoring of Africa and submit an energy change assessment once a week; other theater commands will adopt a defensive posture and rest and replenish their forces."

He looked at those tired but still sharp eyes on the screen.

"This is not a retreat, it is waiting, waiting for them to weaken, waiting for us to become stronger, waiting for that day to come when we can solve all the problems at once."

Within seventy-two hours of the order being issued, the battle situation had changed dramatically.

In the North American theater, Dean and Sam led the last of their rapid reaction squads in a cleanup operation in the Rocky Mountains. All 1,370 hiding moderate angels were located and persuaded to surrender.

They emerged from caves, tree hollows, and abandoned hunting huts, their hands empty and their eyes vacant, like a herd of livestock that had lost their way.

“Will you really give us shelter?” one of the voices asked hoarsely.

Dean looked at him. He was a young angel, with a human appearance that looked no more than twenty years old. His wings had been completely burned off when he fell, leaving only two hideous charred scars on his back.

“It’s written on the surrender order.” Dean nodded slightly. “Lay down your weapons and surrender, and the guild will provide shelter.”

"What is protection?" the young angel pressed. "Is it locking us up, or using us as experimental subjects?"

Dean paused for a second.

Have you ever killed anyone?

The young angel shook his head, and the other angels behind him also shook their heads, some resolutely, some hesitantly, and some bowing their heads.

“Then it’s not experimental material.” Dean stepped aside, revealing the escort vehicle waiting behind him. “Get in. Don’t cause trouble when you get to the containment center. There will be food and a place to sleep. Cooperate with the investigation. First, confirm that you haven’t killed anyone. We’ll talk about the future later.”

The young angel looked at the modified military truck as if it were a trap.

But he still took the first step.

All 137 angels boarded the vehicle, without exception.

In the European theater, Renault signed a new operational directive amidst the ruins outside Paris.

The exorcism cannon position was switched to low-power standby mode, the gunners took turns resting, and the energy core was switched to economic mode. The firing rhythm that used to be once every half hour was changed to a symbolic deterrent shot once every four hours.

"Aren't we going to stop fighting?" a new recruit asked.

"Attack!" Renault shouted, "but not now."

He pointed to the African region on the map.

"Wait for them to come out."

In the Asian theater, Liz led the remaining twenty-three team members back to their temporary camp from the Himalayas. The medic changed the dressing on her left arm, and this time she finally lay down and rested properly.

Martin sat on the cot next to him, the burns on his back still scabbing over, the itching keeping him awake all night.

"You mean, that Holy Light Barrier," Martin scratched the newly grown stubble on his chin, "can it really last six months?"

Liz closed her eyes.

"do not know."

"What if it lasts even longer?"

"Then we'll have to wait even longer."

Martin remained silent for a moment.

“My wife’s death anniversary is next month,” he suddenly said. “She died on the third day of the mad angel attack. I was on patrol at the time and didn’t have time to go back.”

Liz opened her eyes and looked at the top of the tent.

"I know."

“I can’t wait three months,” Martin said softly but firmly. “I can’t wait that long.”

Liz didn't say anything.

Outside the tent, the Himalayan wind blew ceaselessly, as if weeping for all the dead. (End of Chapter)