Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

Forget it, we've already come all this way and the fight's already gotten this bad. Talking about surrendering now would be idiotic—not to mention the other side, even their own brothers probably wouldn't be able to accept this outcome.

"catch him!"

"Or... just kill him!"

The shouts of the Sarkaz swept over.

Milan ignored him—he drew his bow.

Chapter 91 · Sigh, ( )

The battlefield changed the moment Milan stepped into the city!

The white-clad front seemed to find its backbone when he appeared, and their morale soared as if it were a tangible boost. Perhaps it would be odd to put the words "swift" and "difficult" together, but at this moment, they were a perfect description of the canned food squad's actions. With Alexei's hoarse shouts, the shield bearers mustered their courage and pushed forward, while the melee fighters also managed to create a front line on the flanks.

The crossbowmen practically gritted their teeth as they struggled to load the arrows—these were probably their most effective means of harming mercenaries, since anything could be treated the same at a distance of 100 meters and a speed of arrows.

Faced with the crossbowman who raised his hand to aim while being protected by a group of white-armored guards who were scrambling and crawling, the Sarkaz mercenaries finally stopped applying pressure for a moment—after all, these rookies were only good at eggshells, and they were genuinely disgusted by them.

The canned food team worked hard to get closer to Milan.

Milan, however, paid little attention to their disheveled state and did not even rush into the enemy lines.

As Ace and the other Rhodes Island members watched from the shadows, Milan walked forward as if strolling in a garden; he raised the silvery-blue short bow in his hand, the bowstring twanged once, and the arrow whistled through the dust.

—Snap!

The little madwoman who had been laughing wildly and unleashing explosions on the battlefield suddenly wilted—she had clearly seen that the arrow was never meant to hit her from the start; her long-standing crazy persona had become ingrained in her character, and she hadn't paid any attention to it at all, even feeling a bit of an urge to laugh at it.

But the unusual sound of the arrow grazing the air around her and piercing the metal wall made her tail twitch almost reflexively; she froze instinctively until the shockwave from the arrow turned into airflow that ruffled her hair, and she realized what she had thought of because of that momentary sound.

She lowered her head and turned to look in the direction of the arrow.

"..."

She saw that most of the arrow had penetrated the metal wall, tearing the hole open with spiderweb-like cracks. These cracks even seemed to have a life of their own, spreading outwards and pulling a large area of ​​the basin's metal inwards, creating a noticeable dent.

—...Which Sarkaz swearing person called this thing a bow and arrow?

W felt completely confused.

"……Ah."

On the other side, an arrow served as a wake-up call to the overly conspicuous Visdel infant form, causing her signature laugh and explosion to momentarily subside. Milan, beneath his armor, also twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a rather unfriendly smile.

Couldn't he shoot accurately from that distance?

how to say……

Milan's archery skills were certainly not divine, but with the aid of the [Aiming] enhancement, the distance wasn't that far off; he deliberately missed the first arrow to take advantage of the short bow's draw speed, but the subsequent arrows were not so friendly.

"Protect the caster!"

As soon as his first arrow was fired at the Sarkaz's rear, some sharp-eyed mercenaries reacted and shouted warnings. Even the guards who had been assigned to the sorcerer from the beginning, based on the information obtained from the Bonecrusher, stepped forward.

Faced with the arrows whistling from Milan's bowstring, some tried to deflect the trajectory by swinging their weapons, while others raised their shields to block—but no matter how much they anticipated the "heavy arrows" that Shattered Bones had mentioned, the situation when they actually came into contact with these air-swirling arrows still far exceeded their expectations.

The quick-reacting swordsman struck the arrow shaft, but instead of the crisp sound of the arrow breaking, it made a dull sound like hitting an anvil!

The brave swordsman didn't even have time to react; he and his sword were thrown back together. His precious longsword slipped from his hand, and he spun around on the ground, rolling in circles.

The mercenary with the shield felt completely awed—this wasn't the feel of deflecting arrows at all! It felt like a battering ram had struck him instantly. He, along with his shield, his armor, and his weapon, which served as his weight, were all shoved backward by brute force, staggering and finally collapsing onto the ground.

—You call this a bow and arrow?

—You fucking call this thing a bow and arrow?

Although they may never have cared about each other's existence, at this moment, the Sarkaz mercenaries and the Chernobog police and military suddenly reached an unprecedented consensus.

They immediately became obedient, even their eyes became clear; but the spellcasters' rhythm was immediately disrupted—Milan's bowstring vibrated repeatedly, his firing rate was not fast, and one arrow after another still steadily left the bowstring, causing chaos in the area pointed to by his crosshair.

That adorable attack (no mistake) that accelerated 11.5 kg arrows to 128 m/s, even when each arrow landed on the ground, made them feel the soles of their feet tremble with the ground—who could withstand that!

He single-handedly suppressed the entire group of sorcerers, preventing them from casting spells in peace—some dodged in a sorry state, some lost control of their spells flying wildly, and some simply turned their fire on him, the newly appeared "canned food"; luminous objects like fireballs and magic bullets traced trajectories in the air, with few pointing at the panting "canned food" line anymore.

This is exactly what Milan wanted.

"Boom! Boom!"

Seeing that the sorcerer had been thoroughly tormented, the canned food team finally regrouped; Milan put away his short bow and a phantom image flashed in his hand, the explosion of concentrated energy bodies instantly engulfing him... but then he was immediately dispersed.

"My lord! My lord..."

The large shields of the canned shield bearers, reeking of meat broth, closed amidst the desperate roars of the shield bearers, forming a blackened shield wall; Milan stepped into the formation, and Alexei came up as if to apologize. He opened his mouth, his face flushed red, and his once fluent language as an official failed him in forming a single sentence.

"No need to say more... you all just listen."

Milan, speaking rapidly from within the shield wall, said concisely, "I am not disappointed in your performance, nor do I think there is anything shameful about it. It's just that the Sarkaz mercenaries are indeed a bit too much for you to handle, so it's not surprising that you couldn't win."

"You haven't wronged me in any way. All you need to consider is: in real combat, will the enemy consider your skill level and then play a match against you at the same level according to the rules?"

"What's going on with the battle? What are you thinking?... Figure it out yourselves."

The Canned Food team fell silent, a silence that stood out even amidst the clamor of the Sarkaz outside.

But Milan did not hesitate.

【Repair Parts】

"Tools/armor made with the corresponding top/panel material" are applicable.

- Restores 100 points of durability to the target equipment.

A brick-sized consumable item appeared in his hand, and with a swift movement, he touched each of the team members' damaged armor one by one—Milan could see the durability loss of these equipment, and the repair parts were integrated into their equipment like liquid. The cuts, burn marks, cracks and deformations left behind as the durability decreased began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye in an instant.

The dull armor regained its stark white luster, and the damaged surface quickly became smooth, like a creature wriggling and healing its wound.

"he……"

Beside Ace, Amiya, who had followed, asked incredulously, "He's repairing those people's equipment?"

"Even if you ask me, Amiya..."

Ace thought for a moment, his eyes behind his sunglasses filled only with shock and confusion.

"I've never seen this before."

Even though they hadn't been watching for long, they had a full understanding of the strength of both sides in the battle—and what the white armor worn by the Canned Food Squad really meant: to put it jokingly, it was no different from the shield bars that you put on a character's health bar in a video game.

If you really want to point out a difference, it's that the shield bar is longer than the health bar—and in reality, flesh and blood are affected by injuries, they feel fear and slow down, they are distracted by pain, and they can even be severely injured and crippled.

But the shield bar is /Q*un.

The existence of these armors is like having another complete life!

The Sarkaz were naturally aware of this as well.

"We can't let them consolidate their position! Push forward! Take out that leader!"

Garsen, who had a clear view from the rear, immediately gave orders to the leaders of each team; several officers from the mercenary group's subordinate teams received the order and immediately led their elite troops to surround them—in that short time, as they surrounded them, the front of the canned goods' shield wall suddenly opened up.

"I had a lot of fun playing."

Milan, who had just appeared, put away his short bow and took up the three-colored spear that had appeared in the description of the Shattered Bones, which he carried diagonally on his shoulder. The design of the inlaid armor and the plated armor were different, so they could not see Milan's expression. They could only see this armored man, who looked thicker than the canned members, tilt his head and walk out swaggeringly.

"Thank you for taking care of my bunch of good-for-nothings."

Milan sneered and extended his armored left hand, hooking his finger inward.

"Come on, now, let's face the second phase."

"He's switched to melee weapons!"

"Perfect opportunity! Get him in close and entangle him!"

"...Be careful, the intelligence says he's very strong!"

"Don't be careless!"

The Sarkaz's voices rose and fell, and for a moment they abandoned the canned food troops and attacked Milan, who was advancing forward with carelessly stepped formations.

—How dare they break away from the team's protection so easily? They simply don't take us seriously!

Having observed the heavy weaponry of the mercenary members and their own subordinates' battles, the elite mercenaries, who had a general understanding of the scope of "great strength," attacked Milan from multiple directions in a semi-encircling formation.

But Milan moved forward.

The spear slid off his shoulder, and he reached forward with a casual sweeping motion—without any fancy techniques or the faint glow of Originium Arts charging.

"!?"

Only pure, unadulterated power!

With a simple, sweeping strike, a Sarkaz greatsword user, his muscles bulging, swung his sword to meet the attack head-on, but his expression changed drastically the moment the weapons made contact! He felt as if he had struck not an enemy's weapon, but a rock crab charging straight at him! The hard texture made his hand go numb, and the force of the recoil from the weapon sent him flying backward uncontrollably.

It knocked down several people in the process.

—No, is "great power" such a great power?

It's obvious to the naked eye that some people are wondering: Is something wrong with this thing? There's definitely something wrong with it.

Is the difference between the "great power" of your ordinary members and the "great power" of the leader really that outrageous?

"..."

The elite mercenaries who rushed forward were momentarily unsure of what to do.

But Milan didn't care about such trivial matters as "the fall of a single enemy".

He remained silent, only moving forward, each step accompanied by the swing of his spear; the movements of wielding the spear were simple and unadorned, consisting only of flat swings, either slapping or sweeping, maximizing the advantage of his attack range.

But behind this simple action lies an unstoppable force!

The afterimages of the spear swung in front of him were like the wind, stirring up the air with a heavy whistling sound; behind him, everything was clean, but the Sarkaz around him jumped away as if they had been electrocuted.

The exquisite slashes of swordsmen, the heavy attacks of greatswordsmen, the cunning assassinations of scouts, and even the explosive Originium Arts thrown from afar—all seemed pale and powerless before his armor, which was thicker than a canned food guard.

Those who didn't jump away have already experienced the consequences firsthand. He was like a boulder thrown into the water, forcing the mercenaries to retreat and spreading out spontaneously like ripples.

One force can defeat ten!

You think you can stop them? Then go ahead, I guarantee no one will stop you.

"Follow behind the adults! Spread out in formation! Just like in training!"

Milan's tactical intentions were extremely clear: he drew most of the attention and firepower, and also directly disrupted the Sarkaz's formation to encircle and annihilate the canned team.

Having heard him explain tactics in the ranks, Alexei seized the opportunity and led his men, whose armor had been repaired and whose morale had been boosted, in a counterattack—they charged in groups of six, just as they had trained under Helag, towards the lone mercenaries who had been overwhelmed by Milan's onslaught and forced to leave the group.

Even with their skills, they could still outnumber and eliminate scattered mercenaries—with their numerical advantage and the ability to use trade-offs and fearlessness, they managed to take down several skilled fighters and establish a new level of understanding of combat.

"*Kazdel swear words*!"

Garsen's face turned extremely ugly.

He could tell that, like everyone else, Milan's martial arts skills were quite rusty, far inferior to those of his own cadres who had crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

But his superhuman strength, comparable to a ProMax canned soldier, and his even more outrageous armor completely made up for his lack of skill. Moreover, he trusted the performance of his equipment more than those others and was better at utilizing its advantages.

That's recklessness.

Damn it!

"Stop! Stop, Chief!"

He took a deep breath, and his loud voice echoed across the battlefield.

"We are part of the Reunion Movement! We came here on the orders of Leader Talulah, not for a fight to the death!"

"The infected people need a skilled doctor like you! Please listen to me!"

Chapter 92 - Garsen (5/80)

The commotion on the battlefield subsided briefly after Garsen's shout.

The suppressed cries of the injured and the crackling of sparks from the wiring mingled together, along with the sound of wind whistling through the hollow passageway.

In this situation, the Sarkaz mercenaries looked at their leader with suspicion and uncertainty: they were certainly aware of their mission—officially, it was to "recruit the forces of the infected," but in reality, the vast majority of the decision-making power rested with them.

Even Talulah herself didn't entirely expect these people to obey—in fact, the fact that "they would wantonly burn, kill, and plunder" might have been part of her plan.

But now that I've thought about it, bringing this up again...

—Are we just going to let our brothers' losses and frustrations go like this?

Sarkaz mercenaries rarely think this way.

—Are those newbies just throwing away their great gear?