Hercules charged through the hail of bullets in a counterattack, bursting forth in a storm of raging bloodflowers.

These sinister creatures had transformed themselves into monsters.

John even fleetingly thought he seemed to be playing a hardcore horror VR game.

Maya had investigated the Rift Party beforehand.

This group's depravity kept increasing, led by Old Du, they started practicing prosthetic worship, publicly executing and torturing victims, and making illegal chip recordings of it.

They frantically replace every inch of their original flesh, treating cyber-psychosis as a joke of weak breakdown.

Whoever is unlucky dies.

No one laments or fears, they just grab their weapons and hunt down former comrades, then stand on the corpses mocking their bad luck.

Maya not only selected weapons specifically but also equipped special bullets.

These bullets accumulate damage inside the enemy, directly detonating toxic substances in implants upon reaching the threshold.

The more heavily modified the enemy, the more pronounced the effect.

John pushed forward with his gun.

He saw it clearly:

A Rift Party member was shot till flesh peeled, his bulletproof vest shredded like corrugated cardboard from a cat, arcs sparking from metal joints around, and with a stopped heart, the implants rapidly accumulated breakdown before exploding outright!

John walked through the hail of bullets as if a god of death.

He finally understood— why Harbor and company forces highly value intelligence and logistics? Picking the right weapons and ammo definitely heightens the impact of on-site slaughter!

In mere moments, smoke and blood mist accumulated into a thick fog.

Bang—

A bullet hit the side of John's head.

"F*ck!"

He was dazed by the ricochet, gritted his teeth clearing nearby enemies, retreating to cover before the magazine ran out.

Click.

John cleared the faintly hot metal box, empty magazine puffing white smoke, knocked several circles on the rubble.

Thump, thump.

His chest drummed.

Heartbeats seemed to drown out the sound of metal scraping.

John felt his bulletproof vest becoming increasingly heavy, as if each gap was packed with ammo.

"Huh~"

Water vapor fogged the interior of the mask.

John blinked hard a few times, driving away the sweat pooling on his brow.

He had muddled through many deadly situations, but this kind of upfront brashness was still quite unfamiliar.

Bullets hit the bulletproof vest. Like infuriating heavy punches.

John dashed out of cover for the third time.

He felt adrenaline surge, blood and flesh flying before his eyes, mind inexplicably recalled the image of Nando at Silver Port, multi-barrel machine gun spraying at close range with the same grandeur.

Unavoidably associating with his final dire fate.

Maya immediately ducked back into cover upon sighting John, shifting positions using obstacles in the dim setting, marking reinforcements for the Rift Party with electronic tags one by one.

John had already emptied two magazines.

Firepower near the tunnel entrance had been severely weakened.

He pulled the trigger, jogged in search of targets, gaze slid over scattered scaffold lamps, temporary huts, grid stairs, gravel main paths one by one...

The inside of the cave was actually quite spacious.

Each area connected by tunnels, load-bearing structures even built into platforms and towers, cranes and unknown equipment blending with boulders.

The Rift Party had called for reinforcements.

Boxes stacked everywhere, surfaces flooded with grease.

Heavily modified madmen ran out in twos and threes from the darkness, then poked out from all kinds of cover to shoot.

[Mission Objective Update]

[Clear Rift Party reinforcements. (Not achieved)]

John was shot again.

He staggered to a halt first, bulletproof vest seemingly reached its limit, then immediately began running, efficiently executing precision kills using cover.

A red stream of data extended out from the black platform.

Maya provided new coordinates and spoke up to remind.

[Sniper, John, you can't take it head-on anymore!]

Buzz—

John's field of vision instantly covered by a deep green filter.

He simultaneously activated Sianweistan and tactical scanning, Messiah's Eye's data grid swept out, extending to the horizon of view, then merged into the buildings and hills.

Red data stream solidified.

The sniper fired.

All roaring became chaos.

John clearly saw the tail of the armor-piercing round.

He sidestepped to dodge the sniper shot, took a couple of strides, sliding on smooth gravel road behind cover, exiting freeze frame, lifted the barrel aimed at a lackey nearby who hadn't reacted and pulled the trigger.

Da da da, bang!

The bullets nearly bucked his ribcage.

The bloody mist covered the bulletproof helmet with a fishy smell.

Bang!

The sniper's bullet simultaneously landed.

John caught sight with his peripheral vision, a concrete pier exploded.

Data flashed within his eye, he lifted Hercules, skillfully swiped across the groove with fingers, switched to smart mode, connecting to the auxiliary aiming system.

Next second.

John pressed his face against the wide aiming scope.

His vision synced with the gun, automatically hunting focusing through high magnification lens— dark platform instantly clear, seeming within reach, outermost framed by mosaic generated by focus gradually loading.

The sniper was a protruding-eyed man in a leather jacket.

His face was inset everywhere with metal cones and silver ornaments, black face shield cooling slot traversed slightly fierce expression.

John pulled the trigger.

Hercules's barrel no longer roared, rather buzzed, electromagnetic rounds compressed then shot forth.

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