Chapter 7: Mythical Legacy - White Death [2]
Chapter 7: Mythical Legacy - White Death [2]
These brown-coat soldiers had heard a lot about White Death's supernatural eyes. Today, they even got a glimpse of them.
With his frosty eyes, the grim reaper of this Winter War, White Death, scanned the faces of these soldiers, one by one taking them down. The soldiers in white coats immediately started firing, as the soldiers in brown coats retaliated.
White Death, someone who had a heavy bounty toll. He was feared so much among the brown coat soldiers that there were a few sayings among the military itself.
"If you see White Death, Run! He has already seen you long ago!"
"If the snow around you suddenly starts speaking, Run! No, you are already dead, you just didn't know that yet."
It was a bloody sight; this was what a war looked like. After around thirty minutes, the brown coat soldiers had successfully left the place, returning to their territory. Many brown coat soldiers had died in this battle.
After making sure this wasn't some kind of trap, the white coat soldiers walked around gathering the bodies of their comrades.
'Looks like the pre-apocalypse era wasn't as peaceful as I expected...' Lucas silently thought as he walked around this bloodied area. He was looking around, seeing the terror-struck faces of the soldiers.
Soon Lucas's eyes fell on the sniper, the one he shot down. He was wearing a mask slightly destroyed due to the bullet. Beside him was a pendant tainted crimson.
Squatting down, Lucas removed the brown mask from his face. This was a mask that every soldier from that country wore.
In front of his eyes was a man around his thirties, with his right eye blown away. Unwillingness to die, Lucas could sense the unwillingness this man had sensed in his last moments. His eyes then fell on the tainted pendant before returning back to the dead man.
"You did well, comrade." These words came out of Lucas's mouth. For some reason, he was able to grasp the feeling inside this foreign body.
Anyone who is willing to sacrifice themselves for their motherland, fight like a brave soldier for their motherland automatically becomes my comrade...
War was worse than hell... At least in hell, there would be no innocent ones...
...
"Simuna, what happened?"
"Nothing," Lucas casually replied as he stood up. Walking towards the soldier who was apparently Simo's close friend, Lucas assisted him in carrying the dead body of another white coat soldier and putting it in a carriage.
Returning to their territory, they finally reached the military headquarters. There were several old tents surrounding a hundred-meter radius. This was where the soldiers lived temporarily, shabby compared to the hideout of brown coat soldiers.
"Hey, have you heard that Sir Häyhä killed 17 soldiers today!"
"What! No way!"
"It's like he's performing magic with a gun."
"Sorcery! This must be sorcery!"
Soldiers exclaimed. There was an environment of celebration among these soldiers. But there were also a few, a few who were either expressionless or had a dark expression on their face.
The white coat soldiers who died today were equivalent to their brothers. Their comrades had died today; there was no way that they would be able to celebrate.
After having a simple meal comprised of dry bread and water-thin soup, they went back to their tents.
Every tent could accommodate at least 5 soldiers. From them, one would always be on night duty.
"Don't worry, I will be on night duty today," Lucas said as he looked at tenants.
"But today's my turn." A soldier with an average build said.
"I heard that your brother died today; your mind will not be sharp enough."
"Sigh, alright." The soldier said. But before going inside, he passed Lucas a pack of cigarettes with only five of them present inside.
"This will keep your body warm."
Taking the pack of cigarettes, Lucas stood outside the tent. However, he did not smoke the cigarette. He, or rather Simo Häyhä, had never done such a thing in his life, to keep his body healthy.
The whole night, Lucas stood in the same position. Slowly as the dawn came by, he spoke a few words to himself. "The winds are becoming stronger."
...
"Men, brace yourselves!" A commanding figure, adorned in a formidable high-ranking military uniform, bellowed. "Today, it's either triumph or tragedy for Kolla!"
"For Kolla!" echoed the resounding cheer from the multitude of white coat soldiers behind him. Their fervent battle cry reverberated through the air, seemingly shaking the very ground beneath.
Facing them were brown coat soldiers, their numbers eclipsing those of their adversaries.
"Soldiers, onward!"
Bang!
Chaos erupted. Gunfire and the thunderous roar of artillery filled the air.
The soldiers expertly maneuvered through the soft snow with their skis. Just as a brown coat soldier aimed to eliminate a white coat counterpart, a near-silent gunshot resonated, leaving the assailant with a bullet-pierced head.
The surprising element was the muted report of the gunshot, with no disturbance in the snow, concealing the sniper's position.
Lucas blended seamlessly into the snowy landscape, employing ingenious tactics to conceal himself. Using snowbanks as a cushion for his rifle, he ensured minimal disturbance to the pristine snow.
A snowball nestled in his mouth, the rifle scope removed, and a white scarf wrapped around his face, Lucas endured the freezing temperatures, crafting an effective camouflage.
Amidst the cold, he marveled at the strategic prowess and psychological tactics involved in his methods. The world of guns unfolded as a realm of unique and multifaceted weaponry. As he poised his finger on the trigger, ready to take action, a sudden realization dawned upon him.
Control returned to his body, but the urge to stand up was held at bay. Lucas, though flooded with the desire to move, found himself resisting, maintaining the perfect position.
Chills ran down his spine as he pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through the skull of a brown-coated soldier, causing chaos among the ranks as screams echoed through the air.
The snow-covered ground soon bore witness to a grim scene. Bodies littered the field, turning the pristine snow crimson, while bullet-riddled trees bore the scars of the intense firefight and explosions reverberated in the air.
A blizzard-like wind swept through the battleground, adding an eerie atmosphere to the spectacle of around two hundred white-coated soldiers clashing against a formidable force of thousands in brown coats.
Bang!
Click!
Bang!
Click!
Bang!
One after another, brown-coated soldiers fell to the ground, life fading from their eyes. A true grim reaper, the embodiment of death, loomed on the battlefield.
The brown-coated soldiers were paralyzed with fear, reluctant to draw breath as they faced the relentless onslaught.
"Are they too scared to approach?" The commander pondered, though his experience hinted at a different reality.
"A trap?" His gaze shifted to the northeast side of the frozen forest. The knowledge of White Death's position was a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few.
"They hesitate because of him? No... they're devising a plan to take him down, or perhaps they've already prepared one. What requires extensive preparation? Large-scale firearms? A massive number of soldiers? Artillery? Artillery!" His eyes widened in realization. "Everyone, retreat immediately! Retreat!"
Unfortunately, it was already too late. A whistling sound was heard from the air.