Chapter 67: Demon Invasion - Part 3

Chapter 67: Demon Invasion - Part 3

Code name: "Vanguard", the field agent from Tactical Team 495, crouched low behind a shattered wall, his eyes fixed on the incoming waves of enemies. Positioned at the village of Huisnes, he had been overseeing the artillery units when the first boulders rained down. The ground shook as massive stones crashed into the artillery batteries, reducing positions that had held firm for hours into craters of twisted steel and dust. The demons surged forward, their grotesque forms cutting through the misty air, darkening the horizon with their sheer numbers. The units of the Foundation and the Order of Light, spread thin and battered, were retreating under the onslaught.

Suddenly, his earpiece crackled to life, the voice of command flooding through the chaos.

"To all units stationed in the villages of Beauvoir, Courtils, Le Val-Saint-Père, Ceaux, Saint-Léonard, Genêts, La Gare, Tanis, Les Pas, Les Mares, positioned along the secondary defense line or beyond the Couesnon River. Cover the retreat of all approaching units. Regroup with them and hold the line. The French Army, tasked with the blockade, is moving toward you from the N175 highway. Reinforcements are inbound. To all teams stationed at Huisnes-sur-Mer: cover the artillery group's retreat and then fall back!"

Vanguard's eyes swept across the battlefield, seeing vehicles already moving. Hundreds of Military trucks, armored transports, and vehicles beat a hasty retreat, weaving through the roads and across fields, some firing as they fell back in a desperate attempt to slow the horde. But behind them, the enemy advanced—hundreds of demons, relentless and ravenous, followed by several giant demons, their grotesque hands hurling massive stones toward the fleeing humans.

"Focus!" their squad leader, codenamed "Ironclad", barked, his voice cutting through the noise.

Vanguard refocused, watching as the artillery units moved further back, still firing volleys at the approaching horde. But there was no escaping the truth. The demons were gaining ground quickly, and retreat wasn't an option for long. Then, Ironclad raised his fist, signaling his men to gather.

"We stand here," he growled, steel in his voice. "This is where we make our last stand."

The soldiers of the team moved closer, their grim faces set with determination. Ironclad stood tall, his dark armor glinting in the twilight, as he addressed his men.

"Gentlemen, this is it. Behind us lie our brothers and sisters. We've bled with them, laughed with them, cried with them. And today, it's time to be selfish. Today, we die alone. We give no ground until the order is given. We fight until the last drop of blood and grant honor to those who have fallen before us. Behind us lies everything we've fought for—our homes, our families, humanity itself. Will we hide like cowards?"

The soldiers roared in response: "No, sir!"

Ironclad continued, his voice rising above the clamor of the battle around them.

"Then we will lift our heads high and present our sincerest greetings from humanity to these demonic bastards. My brothers, are you ready to follow me into death and the glory of dying for all of humankind?"

The soldiers, now filled with fervor, roared louder, their weapons raised.

"Yes, sir!"

Ironclad nodded, pulling down his visor. "Then prepare yourselves. They're coming."

The ground shook as the demon horde surged closer, the front ranks crashing into the outer defenses. Vanguard's heart pounded as he gripped his rifle tightly, feeling the weight of the moment. There would be no retreat for them. Their orders were clear: cover the artillery's escape, then hold the line for as long as humanly possible.

The first wave of demons smashed into their defensive perimeter, a flood of twisted bodies and grotesque, screeching figures. The soldiers opened fire, their automatic rifles spraying bullets into the oncoming horde, but the sheer numbers of the demons were overwhelming. One of the giants lumbered forward, hurling another massive boulder toward the rear of the village, where the artillery was still trying to retreat. The stone smashed through a building, sending a shockwave through the ground.

Vanguard took aim, squeezing off controlled bursts at the demons' heads. He saw several go down, their bodies crumpling under the fire, but there were always more to replace them. Beside him, another team member was barking orders, calling for mortar support from the few remaining artillery pieces still operational.

Suddenly, a group of winged demons swooped down from the sky, their leathery wings flapping furiously as they dove toward the soldiers. The anti-air teams immediately turned their guns upward, opening fire and bringing a few of the creatures down, but not before they dropped onto the battlefield. One of the winged creatures slammed into the ground near Vanguard, its talons carving deep trenches into the earth as it roared. He quickly drew his sidearm and fired, the creature's head jerking back as the bullets pierced its skull. It collapsed in a heap at his feet.

But there was no time to rest. The waves of demons kept coming, and soon they were pushing through the outer defenses, forcing the soldiers to fall back to their secondary positions. The situation was deteriorating rapidly.

"Hold the line!" Ironclad shouted, his voice barely audible over the explosions and gunfire. He and a few others had taken up position behind a barricade, their weapons trained on the advancing demons. They fired relentlessly, but it was clear that the demons would not stop until they had overrun everything.

Vanguard felt the weight of his gear as he moved to cover another position. The roar of the approaching giants grew louder, their massive forms visible in the distance as they lumbered toward the village, throwing more stones at the artillery crews still retreating.

The sound of battle echoed through the village as the horde of demons clashed with the Foundation's tactical teams. Vanguard's rifle barked with each trigger pull, sending rounds toward the oncoming creatures. The front lines were chaos— bullets, grenades, and demon blood filled the air. Ironclad's voice cut through the noise as he commanded his team to reposition, shifting from cover to cover as they battled the relentless demons at close and mid-range.

One of the demons, towering at five meters tall, landed with a ground-shaking impact. Its eyes glowed red, and it let out a guttural roar that sent a shiver down Vanguard's spine. Before anyone could react, the creature reached down and tore a nearby car from the earth, hurling it through the air with terrifying strength.

"Incoming!" Vanguard shouted.

The team dove out of the way as the car crashed into their former position, crushing it beneath twisted metal and debris. They scrambled to their feet, rifles raised, unleashing a torrent of firepower on the beast. But the bullets seemed to have no effect, ricocheting off its thick, armored hide.

"It's not working!" one of the soldiers yelled, frustration evident in his voice.

Ironclad scanned the battlefield for options and spotted the team's soldiers equipped with rocket launchers-but his hope was dashed when he saw the same soldiers falling under a wave of demons, their bodies shredded before they could even aim.

"Damn it! We're losing heavy weapons!" Ironclad shouted, gritting his teeth. Desperation hung in the air like the smoke from the burning wreckage around them.

Just then, one of the agents, codenamed "Reaver", knelt beside Vanguard, hurriedly assembling a makeshift explosive. Reaver pulled together several grenades and stuffed them into a torn backpack, his hands moving with a calm focus despite the chaos surrounding them. The explosion from another nearby fight cast flickering shadows across his face, but he wore a resolute, almost serene expression.

When the makeshift bomb was ready, Reaver handed Vanguard his dog tags. His eyes were calm, but his voice carried a deep finality.

"Here, take this." Reaver grinned, though it was a smile tinged with sadness. "I'm heading out before you on this one, buddy. Recon in hell."

Vanguard's heart sank, but before he could say anything, Reaver grabbed his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "See you there... but let's make sure it's much later for you, yeah?"

With that, Reaver stood tall, his eyes fixed on the towering demon that had torn through their lines. He let out a primal scream, drawing the attention of the beast. It turned its massive head, eyeing Reaver as he sprinted forward, the backpack of explosives in hand.

"For humanity!" Reaver's voice rang out over the chaos, loud and defiant. "I cast you down!"

Vanguard watched, frozen in place, as Reaver sprinted toward the demon, dodging another thrown boulder. The demon raised its arm to crush him, but Reaver was faster, throwing himself at its feet. In one swift movement, he detonated the explosives.

The place erupted in fire and thunder.

The shockwave blasted through the battlefield, knocking Vanguard and the others to the ground. He barely had time to react before the smoke filled the air, blocking his view. The explosion ripped through the demon and a dozen smaller creatures around it, sending chunks of flesh and blood flying through the air.

When the dust settled, the massive demon lay in pieces, its towering form obliterated by the blast. Reaver was gone, but his sacrifice had saved the team from annihilation

Vanguard struggled to his feet, his ears ringing, his body sore from the impact. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no time to mourn—no time to reflect. The battle still raged, and there were more demons closing in.

"For Reaver!" someone shouted, and the team rallied, their spirits reignited by their comrade's sacrifice.

Vanguard nodded to himself, his grip tightening on his rifle. There would be time to grieve later-after they had survived.

The battlefield had become a storm of chaos, but after Reaver's sacrifice, the team was fired up, adrenaline surging through their veins. Blood and sweat covered their faces, and exhaustion tugged at their muscles, but none of that mattered now. Every agent of the Foundation was resolved to fight to the bitter end.

Vanguard moved through the smoke, taking quick shots at the demons still charging from all sides. The ground beneath them trembled from the force of the demonic horde, but the agents didn't back down. Ironclad, towering above most of his team, was shouting commands through the radio, ensuring that every angle was covered and every retreating soldier from the artillery division was accounted for.

Suddenly, a deep, resonating thud echoed across the battlefield—louder than anything they'd heard before. Vanguard's heart skipped a beat as he turned to face the noise. Emerging through the smoke, like ancient titans come to life, were five massive demons—giants, each over ten meters tall, their footsteps shaking the earth with every step. They were less than a hundred meters away and closing in fast.

"GIANTS!" one of the soldiers screamed, panic spreading through the ranks.

The giants roared, and one of them bent down to scoop up a boulder the size of a small car. It was ready to launch the massive stone directly into their position.

"Don't give them an inch!" Ironclad bellowed, his voice cutting through the terror. "Hold the line and fight until the last breath!"

The agents opened fire, their bullets lighting up the night as they poured everything they had into the giants. But the towering monsters seemed unfazed, their thick hides shrugging off the small arms fire as they continued their slow, menacing advance.

Vanguard's heart raced. He could see the boulder rising in the giant's hand, ready to be hurled at them. This was it—they were going to be crushed. 

And then, in the distance, a new sound filled the air.

The ground began to rumble again, but this time, it wasn't from the giants. It was the unmistakable growl of engines—the roar of heavy armor. The sound of salvation.

Suddenly, from the far side of the village, a formation of tanks rolled into view. The lead tank fired, its cannon booming, sending a shell directly into the chest of one of the giants. The force of the impact staggered the behemoth, and it let out a guttural scream as it fell backward, crashing into the earth.

A cheer went up from the Foundation agents as more tanks appeared, followed by four or five APCs, their turrets firing at the demons with rapid precision. The cavalry had arrived.

Ironclad grabbed his radio, shouting into it. "All units, regroup! An armored Detachment is here! Hold the line until we can mount an evacuation!"

The tanks moved into position, their cannons trained on the remaining giants. With expert coordination, they unleashed volley after volley, targeting the knees and heads of the massive demons. One by one, the giants fell, their monstrous forms collapsing as the tanks continued their relentless barrage.

Through the radio, a new voice crackled to life. "This is Commander Gault of the 35th Armored Detachment. To all surviving units in the village of Huisnes-sur-Mer, we've been ordered to get you out of there. You've done your part. The artillery is safe. Mount up in the APCs, and we'll cover your retreat."

Vanguard's shoulders sagged with relief, but there was no time to rest. The demons were still coming, and even with the giants down, there were hundreds more swarming the battlefield.

Ironclad waved his team toward the incoming APCs. "Move! Now! Get to the transports!"

The agents fired as they ran, laying down covering fire as they made their way toward the waiting vehicles. The APCs' heavy machine guns roared to life, cutting down any demons that got too close.

Vanguard and his team climbed aboard one of the APCs, the thick metal doors slamming shut behind them. Inside, it was a mixture of Foundation agents, soldiers from the French Army, and exhausted artillery crews. Faces were pale, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and sweat, but for the first time in hours, there was a sense of hope.

The APC rumbled to life, the engine vibrating beneath their feet as it began to roll away from the village. Outside, the tanks continued to fire, blasting apart any demons that tried to pursue. The convoy moved quickly, speeding through the village and out toward the safer areas near the town of Tanis.

Chapter: The Last Stand – Part 4

The APCs raced down the country road, moving fast toward safety. The countryside blurred by as Vanguard and his team sat inside the rattling vehicle, the tension slowly easing as they put distance between themselves and the battlefield. The low hum of the engine, combined with the clanking of metal and the distant echoes of battle, became the only sounds in the compartment.

Vanguard leaned against the wall, still feeling the adrenaline in his veins, but his mind started to drift, exhaustion settling in. The faces of his comrades, their struggles, the memories of Reaver's sacrifice—they all flashed through his thoughts. He was glad they'd made it this far, but the grim reality of war never left him. 

And then, out of nowhere, a deafening boom ripped through the air.

Vanguard barely had time to register the sound before the entire APC jolted violently. An explosion—a powerful one—erupted just outside. His world became a blur of noise and chaos as the vehicle was thrown off the road, lifted into the air like a toy in a child's hand.

Time seemed to slow.

The force of the blast sent the APC spiraling, the metal screeching as it flipped end over end. Vanguard's stomach lurched, and he was weightless for what felt like an eternity, his body slamming against the cold steel walls. His vision blurred as he caught glimpses of his team—shouts, screams, hands reaching for stability—but nothing could stop the inevitable.

Crash!

The APC slammed into the earth with a gut-wrenching impact, metal folding, and glass shattering as it rolled violently down a small embankment. Vanguard's body was tossed like a rag doll inside the vehicle. His vision faded to black.

He felt the ground rush up to meet him one last time as the APC came to a final, devastating halt. Then, everything went silent.

---

Vanguard's world was darkness, and in that darkness, there was nothing but an eerie stillness. Time had no meaning. Pain existed, but it was distant, like a whisper at the edge of his mind. He was floating somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, unable to tell how much time had passed.

A faint ringing echoed in his ears, gradually pulling him back to the present. Slowly, he became aware of the taste of blood in his mouth, the weight of his body, the cold, hard floor beneath him.

His eyes fluttered open, vision blurry, and everything was hazy. He tried to move, but every muscle in his body screamed in protest. His head throbbed, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. The pain, the chaos—it all felt so surreal.

Then it came back to him—the explosion, the APC flipping through the air, crashing.

He groaned, trying to push himself up, but his limbs refused to cooperate. The APC's interior was a twisted wreck. The walls were bent inward, debris scattered everywhere. The lights flickered weakly, and smoke filled the air, stinging his eyes.

"Anyone…?" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. His mouth was dry, and his throat burned.

No response.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and through the haze, he could see some of his team—some were slumped against the walls, others lying on the floor, motionless.

"Come on… wake up," he muttered, forcing himself to crawl toward the nearest figure. His body ached with every movement, but he pressed on, driven by instinct, by the need to survive.

Reaching the agent, he grabbed the man's shoulder and shook him gently. "Get up… We have to… get out of here."

Still no response. Panic began to rise in Vanguard's chest. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer—many of his comrades might not have survived the blast.

But before he could process the full weight of that thought, a new sound reached his ears—the distant, unmistakable growl of approaching enemies. The demons weren't finished. Whatever had hit their APC, it had attracted attention.

With renewed urgency, Vanguard forced himself to his feet, biting back the pain. He needed to get out, to get his team out, before the demons closed in.

Staggering, he moved toward the rear door of the APC. It was half-crushed, barely hanging on its hinges, but with a desperate shove, he managed to push it open. The night air hit him like a cold slap to the face, carrying with it the stench of blood and fire.

Outside, the battlefield still raged. Fires burned in the distance, and in the shadows, he could see the shapes of demons moving through the wreckage of the convoy. They were searching, hunting for survivors.

He turned back to the APC, glancing at the unconscious forms of his team.

"Come on…" he whispered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "We're not done yet."

With trembling hands, he reached for his radio, hoping against hope that it still worked. Static filled the channel, but after a few seconds of adjusting the frequency, he heard a familiar voice.

"This is the 35th Armored Detachment! Survivors, do you read? We cannot reach your position, the demons surrounded the vehicles, we cannot reach you guys, there is too many of them."

Vanguard dropped the radio and steeled himself for what came next. 

Vanguard checked the pulse of each of his fallen comrades, feeling the crushing weight of despair as he realized that none had survived. His breath hitched, and a few tears escaped, trailing down his dirt-smeared face. But the sounds of the demons pounding against the APC door snapped him back to the grim reality.

The door bent inward under the force of the blows. It wouldn't hold much longer. Vanguard swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to push past the grief. There was no time for mourning now.

He scavenged through the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters, searching for any remaining ammunition and explosives. His hands moved quickly, filling two bags with everything he could find—grenades, bullets, anything that could make the next few moments count. His mind was a whirlwind, but his resolve was steel.

Standing before the buckling door, he braced himself for the onslaught. His heart hammered in his chest, but his grip on the explosives tightened. The door shuddered one last time before it gave way with a groan, swinging open violently to reveal the twisted, monstrous forms beyond.

Vanguard stared into the faces of the demons, feeling a surge of hatred and defiance.

"YOU DIGUSTING DEMONIC SCUM," he roared, his voice echoing in the metal confines of the APC. "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME ON EARTH. LET ME REPAY YOUR TICKET STRAIGHT BACK TO HELL!"

With a savage cry, Vanguard leapt from the APC, bags of explosives clutched in his fists, diving headlong into the swarm of demons. And blew himself up. 

BOOM!

A huge explosion resounded, engulfing the APC and the surrounding area.