Chapter 68: Demon Invasion - Part 4

Chapter 68: Demon Invasion - Part 4

Lina stepped down from the APC, taking in the fortified surroundings of Tanis. Military tents and barracks lined the streets, soldiers in French Army fatigues moved swiftly, reinforcing barricades and laying down heavy fire against distant demonic forces. Missiles streaked across the sky, and she could hear the constant booming of artillery.

"Omega-7, get your ammo restocked and report to the defensive line," barked Black Eagle. He turned to SCP-073 and SCP-8888, his voice taking a different tone. "You two, with me. We have work to do."

Lina kept close, her gaze shifting around the village. The once-peaceful streets were packed with tanks, APCs, and missile launchers. French soldiers, Foundation agents, and knights of the Order of Light all stood ready to defend the village from the advancing demonic horde. Even from here, she could see flashes of missile fire from the rooftops as snipers and rocket launchers took down swooping demons.

As they entered the church, the air was thick with tension. Inside, the command center was buzzing with activity—officers hunched over maps, radios buzzing with reports from the frontlines. On the far side of the room, Lina noticed the MTF Alpha-6 "Arcanum Veil," a unit of thaumaturgists, standing quietly. One of them caught her eye, giving a nod of recognition. Lina saluted back with a faint smile.

Before she could dwell on it, a woman in a dark blue Gendastrerie uniform approached. Her stride was confident, commanding. To Lina's surprise, Black Eagle greeted her with a respectful nod, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the soldiers around them.

"Colonel Dumont," Black Eagle acknowledged. "It's good to have you with us."

"Likewise, Black Eagle," replied Dumont, her eyes scanning the room. 

Just then, Lina's attention was pulled to Élise, who stood alongside her elite knights. They radiated authority, and despite the chaos outside, their presence felt like a rock in a storm. Around them, soldiers from the 1st RIPMa (French Special Forces) were engaged in quiet conversation, their eyes constantly flicking to the tactical displays.

"Everyone, gather around," Black Eagle called out as he placed a radio on the central table. The hum of activity quieted as Overwatch's voice came through.

"This is Overwatch. All units in the church, listen closely."

Black Eagle adjusted the radio's volume, making sure everyone could hear. Overwatch's voice, calm but firm, filled the room.

"First, we successfully repelled the demonic assault on the fleet. However, the situation on the terrestrial and aerial fronts remains critical. Air control is lost, and the ground forces are being pressed hard, particularly by the giants demons that we decided to call Goliaths . We have no choice but to execute a flanking maneuver."

Black Eagle pointed to the map on the table, tracing a route. The commanders leaned in, their attention fixed on the details.

"Your objective is to push through Le Gué de l'Épine and follow the Sélune River under heavy artillery cover. You'll be shielded by fire from the fleet and supporting troops to the north. However, once you reach the Roche Torin route, you will be on your own. The road will be infested with demons, and you will face no direct support—only long-range artillery strikes. But if you reach the portal, you'll have a chance to end this."

A murmur of acknowledgment swept through the room. The weight of the mission was clear.

"Remember," Overwatch continued, "this mission is vital to the survival of humanity. Failure is not an option. Good luck."

As the transmission ended, the room remained silent for a moment. Then, Black Eagle's voice cut through the stillness.

"Any questions?" 

"No, sir!" came the unanimous response.

The leaders leaned back over the map, murmuring strategies to each other. Élise approached Lina, her face softened from the hardened expression it held before.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the room.

Lina met her eyes, determination settling in her chest. "I am."

As the room quieted after Overwatch's transmission, Black Eagle stepped forward, his authoritative presence filling the space.

"The operation begins in two hours," he said firmly, glancing at everyone around the table. "Rest while you can. We move out at dawn."

His eyes fell on Cain and Lina. "Cain, Lina—get your ammo restocked. Make sure you're ready."

Lina glanced at her watch: 5:00 a.m. She had only two hours to prepare before they had to plunge back into the fray. Nodding silently, she followed Cain out of the church and towards the supply truck parked in the village square. It was already bustling with soldiers and agents grabbing ammunition, grenades, and supplies for the upcoming battle.

Lina grabbed a few boxes of magazines and slipped them into her pack. As she worked, Cain turned to her.

"You holding up?" he asked, voice low but concerned.

Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Barely, but yeah, I'll manage."

With their supplies replenished, Cain gave her a nod and headed back toward the defensive line. Lina, however, felt the weight of exhaustion press down on her. She looked around, spotting a small house by the side of the church. Without thinking, she made her way to the door and stepped inside.

The place was deserted. Dust floated in the pale morning light, and the room smelled faintly of mildew. A tired-looking couch sat against the wall, its cushions sagging.

She collapsed onto it, pulling her pack off and letting it fall to the floor. She lay back, her eyes heavy, and let out a long, exhausted breath. Before she could even think about the mission ahead, sleep overtook her.

The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the watch on her wrist, the numbers still glowing faintly in the early morning light: 5:00 a.m.

---

A few dozens of kilometers away in the dimly lit warehouse, tension hung thick in the air. Rows of armored vehicles—trucks, APCs, and jeeps—lined the space, each equipped with heavy weapons like machine guns and rocket launchers mounted on their tops. Soldiers moved silently, methodically donning their gear, their faces obscured by menacing gas masks that gleamed under the sparse light. The air was filled with the soft clinking of metal and the rustling of fabric as they adjusted their combat vests and loaded ammunition into their weapons.

Each of these soldiers wore a brassard, its stark, swirling design striking against the dark tactical uniforms they sported. The logo—a black and white spiral emanating from a bold red center—seemed almost hypnotic, a symbol of a deeper, darker purpose. Around the emblem was an eerie phrase, half-faded but still legible, speaking of vengeance and reckoning. It was not a symbol of order or peace; it was a mark of rebellion, chaos, and something far more dangerous.

Their commander, a tall figure with an air of authority, stood at the front of the group. His mask, more ornate than the rest, reflected the pale light in a way that made his presence even more imposing. He scanned the room, ensuring every eye was locked on him, every ear attentive. When he spoke, his voice echoed, hollow through the mask, but filled with fervor.

"Brothers, sisters…" He began, his voice low, almost a growl. "We stand here on the cusp of something great. Look at yourselves. Look at what we have become—what they have forced us to become. The Foundation, those arrogant cowards who claim to protect the world, have lied to us all. They've lied to you. To me. To every human being on this planet. They hoard their power, keep it locked away like it's theirs alone, as if they have the right to decide who sees the truth and who lives in ignorance!"

A murmur rippled through the gathered soldiers. Their eyes gleamed behind the glass of their masks, reflecting their simmering anger. The commander paced before them, his fists clenched at his sides.

"They tell the world they protect it, but we know the truth. We have seen the things they hide. The creatures, the objects, the knowledge they have kept from us all. We have seen their prisons—their cells full of what they call 'anomalies.' But what they really fear are forces they can't control, beings and entities that defy their precious order. And what do they do? They lock them away, hiding the truth of this world, hiding what we deserve to know!"

He stopped and turned, pointing an accusatory finger at an invisible enemy. His voice rose in anger.

"They say they protect humanity, but it's all a lie! The Foundation exists to protect itself! Its secrets. Its power! Its reign of control over what we see, what we know, what we are allowed to believe! They silence dissent, crush rebellion, and sweep their dirty work under the rug, while the world remains blind to the chains they have placed on it!"

Several soldiers nodded, their breaths coming quicker. The atmosphere grew more charged as the commander's words stoked their hatred, their resolve hardening.

"We are not like them. We have broken those chains. We have seen the truth, and we will not stand for their oppression any longer. We are not soldiers of some false peace. We are warriors of freedom, the last line of defense against the Foundation's tyranny! They want to contain everything, but we will unleash the chaos they fear!"

His voice cracked like a whip as he shouted the last word, sending a surge of energy through the group. The soldiers began to pound their fists against their chests, their boots stamping rhythmically against the cold concrete floor.

"Today, we fight not for peace, not for some delusion of order, but for freedom! For truth! We will tear down their walls. We will break their iron grip. And we will show the world what real power looks like!"

He raised his hand, his clenched fist held high.

"Today, we make contact with forces the Foundation fears, forces they can never hope to control. We will forge alliances in the fires of chaos itself! The demons—those creatures the Foundation tries so desperately to keep from this world—are not our enemies. They are our allies! They will help us tear down the Foundation's lies and bring the world the freedom it deserves!"

A roar erupted from the soldiers, their anger and passion overflowing. They believed every word, and the fire in their eyes showed that they were ready—ready to do whatever it took to strike back at the Foundation.

The commander waited until the noise died down before speaking again, this time with even more venom in his voice.

"We do not fear the unknown. We do not fear chaos. We embrace it. We are the ambassadors of chaos, the vanguard of true freedom! We will tear down the Foundation and expose their lies to the world! We will fight alongside the forces they have kept hidden, and together, we will burn their control to the ground!"

He took a deep breath and, with a final, thunderous cry, he drove his fist into the air again.

"We are not rebels, we are not terrorists. We are the insurgents! We are the future! We are the ones who will rewrite the rules of this world, and the Foundation will crumble beneath our feet!"

The soldiers, electrified, chanted in unison, their voices a storm of defiance.

The commander paused one last time, then gave the order that would reveal their true allegiance.

"We are the ambassadors of chaos, the fighters of true liberty. Together, we march to war. Together, we will burn the Foundation to the ground."

And in the darkness of that warehouse, as their voices echoed off the walls, the final words rang out like a war cry:

"Long live the Chaos Insurgency!"