[COD] Newbie's Rise to Power

This is all you're giving me?

You loudly protest, "What kind of disgusted tone is that! This is the most meaningful thing to me, okay?!"

Kruger shrugs at you: "Go on and tell me more."

He looked like he was waiting for him to come up with a detailed reason.

"Don't underestimate it just because it looks ordinary; it's a star! Do you know what stars mean in our country? And there are five of them! Look at our national flag, it has five stars too."

That's right, what you gave him were the five stars you folded.

"So, they mean a lot to me."

Even though it was taken out at the last minute, as long as you give it meaning, it will transform from a light piece of paper into a gift with weight, won't it?

Kruger raised an eyebrow: "Your reason this time... is quite good."

You raised an eyebrow: "So, are you going to accept it? My savior."

Then you subtly threaten, "If you don't accept it, you won't get it. This is my most heartfelt gift."

Kruger reached out and took them from your palm.

"Barely acceptable."

After saying that, he opened the storage compartment next to him and put the stars inside.

After driving for nearly four hours, you finally saw the familiar entrance to the base.

The car stopped at the gate, and one of the guards came out to stop it.

You open the window and wave happily to the soldier who walks by.

"Hey! Will, it's me!"

Will, who was originally going to stop the car for inspection, was still a little uneasy. After all, a strange vehicle that arrived without prior notice could be either a surprise visit from higher-ups or a dangerous individual, so he had to be extremely careful.

To his surprise, someone he never expected appeared inside!

Will rushed over, his steps faltering.

"YN? Are you alright..."

that is really good!

You smiled and nodded: "Yes! I'm back safely. Can we come in?"

Will glanced into your car: "Okay, but the routine checks are a must."

This is the rule; he cannot waive it on his own.

Moreover, this was an unfamiliar vehicle, and there was a person dressed like a dangerous individual in the car. He had to make sure that there were no dangerous items in the vehicle or on your person.

After checking everything, Will nodded to you, indicating that it was okay.

"I'll go and let everyone know. They'll be so happy to know you're back safe and sound."

Then he jogged back to the base entrance and raised his hand to signal his companions that they could pass.

Kruger was displeased with this situation.

"Hey, little squirrel, go in yourself."

He didn't want to go in and chat with a bunch of people he didn't know well, not even if they were ghosts.

You snapped your fingers at him and whispered:

"Since you're already here, come in. I'll show you a good show."

Now that you're back, it's time to bring the person who put you in danger to the stage.

You want to see how Lake will perform next.

Perspective - Nicoto

who am I?

Nobody knows, not even I can remember those distant past events.

Nicholas is my code name. It has no meaning and no past. My past is buried in that torture chamber filled with blood and screams.

Since then, I have lost my identity and name, gained a body full of messy and twisted scars, and an endless struggle in my mind.

For example, when I cut off the enemy's head, they said:

"Well done, Nikoto! Get rid of these bastards and send them to hell!"

“You’re too hasty, Nicoto. You should have waited until he reported to his teammates that he was safe before killing him.”

"Why can't we just shoot him? That's a bit cruel."

Irritable and impulsive, cunning and composed, cowardly and kind—their voices constantly fill my mind.

From initial resistance to later tolerance, my only constant was my annoyance.

What have I become? A monster whose true form cannot be revealed to anyone, whose emotions are constantly fluctuating.

They can no longer travel normally, socialize normally, or be exposed to the sunlight.

The only time I feel I have any value is when I'm fighting on the battlefield.

They said I was brave, brutal, and recklessly slaughtered, like a raging bear tearing apart the flesh of my enemies.

I don't care what they think of me. The battlefield is the only place where I can let go of all my worries. It is where I, we, and Nikoto have any value left.

There's no need to consider the consequences, no need to consider morality, no need to consider emotions; all you need to do is follow orders, live or die!

I prefer quiet places; after all, I've heard enough noise already.

Meeting her was an accident.

During this mission, the enemy brought out several children as hostages. In the chaos, I shot and killed one of the children.

This action panicked the enemy, who felt the children were no longer of value and immediately abandoned the remaining children, who were a burden to them, and scattered and fled.

Unsurprisingly, they failed.

As I pointed my gun at one of the enemies' heads, he was still cursing me for being shameless and killing an innocent child.

It was as if they weren't the ones who had just taken the children hostage.

Is it justice? Ridiculous. It's nothing more than the final, impotent rage of the defeated.

I didn't argue, I just shot him and sent him on his way.

The bullet pierced the skull, exploding into a spray of blood.

I don't care about morality; I only care about how to make things more valuable.

The value I've weighed is that the death of one child is exchanged for the lives of other children, and for the success of this mission.

That's inhumane, isn't it?

So I was punished, but I don't care. It's just corporal punishment or a fine, which I don't care about.

The troops need me, and I can't live without them; it's a balance.

What annoys me is the ongoing debate in my mind; no matter how much I argue with them, they just won't stop.

Therefore, I had to find a quiet place with few people to avoid losing control of my emotions.

I sat in the chair, surrounded by a quiet landscape, but I had no mind to appreciate it. Instead, my mind was arguing with those annoying sounds.

It wasn't until someone stood next to me that I snapped out of my daze and started arguing.

The moment I saw her, long-forgotten memories rushed into my mind like a flood.

I was born in Russia... no, I should say the Soviet Union.

I was born in the Far East of the Soviet Union. I lived with my parents until I was two years old. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, my parents left me with my maternal grandmother to raise while they went to work in cities with better economic conditions.

In my memory, my grandmother was always alone. She had no husband, and her relationship with my father and mother was not very close.

I grew up by her side, and many of my memories after I became aware of things come from her or revolve around her.

She was a very healthy old lady with many friends, but there was only one photograph on her bedside table.

It was a young her, and a woman whose face was obscured, as the photograph appeared to have been damaged.

My grandmother would always mention her in front of me; her name, like my grandmother's, permeated my childhood.

She was a Chinese woman, a colleague from the same project when my grandmother was sent there to provide assistance and cooperation.

She works very hard, always working tirelessly in secluded corners, late at night when others are sound asleep.

She had shiny black hair and a warm smile, but she also had a weak body, and illness always made her feel listless.

But she loves to laugh, works very hard, and is kind to everyone, like an angel sent down by God.

But angels never live long. Not long after the project was completed, she succumbed to the torment of illness and lost her life, as if she had left after fulfilling her mission.

This is what my grandmother told me repeatedly, tirelessly, describing her words.

It's strange, I don't know her, I've never even seen what she looks like, but her story has permeated my life.

Later, after my grandmother passed away, I buried that photo frame with her.

Later, I joined the army, changed my nationality, and became a Russian soldier.

Later, I was sent to investigate radical democrats and became an undercover agent for Zakayev.

Later, I was captured by the enemy and subjected to extremely cruel torture; it was a memory I can never recall.

In the midst of busy and painful days, I have slowly forgotten my past memories.

But when that person named yn appeared, the sudden surge of distant memories even drowned out the voice in her mind.

She had shiny black hair, a gentle smile, and her hospital gown and haggard face made her look very weak.

At that moment, the image that had been vague for many years finally took on a concrete form.

Perhaps influenced by my maternal grandmother, I can't help but pay attention to her.

This has started another argument in my mind.

"You shouldn't be paying attention to her. Women will become your weakness. Find a chance to get rid of her, Nicoto!"