There were twenty drones total brought for this operation.
First, four industrial aerial drones monitored the surroundings of each group they were following from roughly two hundred ters overhead.
One hovered above the workers centered around the armored vehicle—Junhyeok, Baek Suho, and Song Gijun among them—watching over their safety.
The remaining three continued surveillance while following Junho, Kim Jimin, and the squad leader’s group and assistant squad leader’s group from the support squad.
The last one climbed to an altitude where it could at least endure the high-altitude gale and watched the entire battlefield.
Seven G1 attack drones had been deployed.
Five were assigned to the assault teams directly shaving their way toward the reserve-force unit, one drone per two people, while the remaining two protected the personnel left near the armored vehicle.
And two of each drone type had been prepared as backups.
The A1 aerial attack drones, kept in reserve for ergencies, were also fully charged and standing by for imdiate deploynt.
It was, in every sense, a near-perfect manned-unmanned integrated combat system.
On top of that, for this operation, the shelter was projecting almost all of AI Akina’s computing power here, except for the essential facilities.
***
— Group Two. House at three o’clock, 125 ters. Eleven zombie entities and three survivors confird. The accompanying G1 will eliminate them first as soon as they erge.
— Group Three. Behind the building at eleven o’clock, eighty ters. Seven zombie entities. Threat level low. You may ignore them.
— Group One. Twelve o’clock, 180 ters. Twenty-three zombie entities. Take cover and stand by for combat.
With Akina’s voice continuing without a mont’s pause, Junho and the rest of the assault force were able to carry out combat actions as smoothly as flowing water.
Paang! Paang!
Tat-tang! Tang! Tang!
The modified air rifles, Junho’s suppressed AR-15, and the soldiers’ K2-series rifles each gave off their own distinctive reports as they dropped zombies at range.
However, unlike the attack drones’ modified air rifles or Junho’s suppressed AR-15, the soldiers’ K2 rifles spread loud gunfire plainly through the area.
Because of that, the zombies—except for the ones chasing survivors or the ones near the reserve-force unit almost two kiloters away—began running toward the soldiers’ positions.
— Move to the locations displayed on your screens. G1 units will move into crossfire formation. Approximately thirty seconds until combat begins.
“Move, move! Hurry!”
The soldiers, who had been moving thirty to forty ters apart along the streamside road and between the rice paddies, ran to their designated positions under the instructions of the squad leader and assistant squad leader after checking the tablets Junho had issued them.
“Hoo, hoo....”
The soldiers dropped prone beneath a slightly raised embanknt that must once have bordered rice paddies or fields, though now it was overgrown with weeds. Their faces were full of tension.
But their eyes, fixed through their red-dot sights, glead sharply.
So far, not a single person had been killed or injured, and there had not even been any real crisis worth ntioning.
Their stamina was still fine, and they had plenty of ammunition.
On top of that, the attack drones—each of which perford better than four or five trained soldiers—felt unbelievably reassuring.
Most of all—
'It works. It really works.'
'I had no idea what he ant by “shaving our way in,” but this is what it ant.'
Perhaps for the first ti ever, or maybe the first ti in the entire world, a regressor’s operation was putting into practice the anti-zombie tactics that the Republic of Korea Army or ard survivor groups would likely begin using by that sumr.
And because that operation had matched reality exactly so far, the squad mbers felt a rush even stronger than the adrenaline of combat.
And the man who had planned and executed all of this was not simply good at operations.
Paang... pa-pang... pang....
From far away, the muffled, choked reports unique to suppressed gunfire continued without stopping.
If his allied marker had not been displayed on their tablets, they would not have been able to tell what that sound was or exactly where he was firing from.
— Entering effective range. G1 units initiating preliminary fire. Group Two, begin firing after that.
Tat-tang! Tatatatang! Tat-tang!
The distance was roughly 150 ters, but the squad mbers pulled the trigger without hesitation at the zombies inside their red-dot sights.
Their goal was not headshots.
Except for the designated marksn with four-tis scopes mounted on their rifles, all the squad mbers aid at the zombies’ lower bodies—the thighs, knees, and similar areas—before pulling the trigger.
— If you’re lucky, one round. Usually two or three. If you smash the knee or thigh, most of them won’t be able to walk properly.
— You think you can hit the head of a zombie charging at you like crazy? That only works in gas. In real combat, if you kill two or three after emptying an entire magazine, you’re already an excellent soldier and a damn good shot.
— So all you need to do is make sure they can’t walk or run. The snipers or attack drones can finish them off.
— Don’t be afraid even if they get all the way in. Even if zombies bite you a few tis, they won’t get through your combat uniform and protective gear.
Tat-tang! Tatatatang! Tang! Tang!
Rembering Junho’s words, the squad mbers pulled the trigger without burden.
Then the zombies sprinting toward them took bullets to the legs, lost to their own montum, and tumbled or sprawled forward.
Once they fell, most of them could not get back up and had to crawl. Even the ones that did stand were limping badly, their speed far lower than before.
And every ti that happened, tungsten rounds fired by the G1 drones buried themselves unerringly in their heads.
Most effective of all was that once the front zombies went down, the ones running right behind them tripped over their own kind.
Compared to the ones hit in the torso, which only staggered violently and did not fall, shooting the legs was effective in several ways.
Tatatang! Tat-tang!
Tatatang! Tat-tang!
Paang! Paang! Paang! Paang!
— All entities within 150 ters eliminated. Group Two, cease fire. Group Three, temporary cease fire except designated marksn.
At the instruction of the sexy operator lady, Group Two and Group Three, led by Staff Sergeant Park and the corporal serving as assistant squad leader, stopped firing.
Paang...! Pa-pang...! Paang...!
Only the attack drones, Kim Jimin’s air rifle, and Junho’s AR-15 continued firing.
About a minute later—
— Entities approaching from beyond one kiloter have stopped moving. Final distance, 290 ters. No current threats near Group Two or Group Three.
“Haaah!”
“Whew....”
Only after hearing Akina’s voice did the squad mbers finally relax, each exhaling and pulling their eyes away from their red-dot sights.
But the operation was not over yet.
***
— Group Two and Group Three, take a short break and check your weapons and ammunition. We’re moving toward the objective point, so don’t slack off on security.
“Yes, understood.”
Because they were in the middle of an operation, Junho’s instruction ca in short, informal speech, and Staff Sergeant Park answered.
After confirming Junho, Kim Jimin, and the G1 drone moving quickly beyond the distant paddy ridge, he spoke to his squad mbers.
“Maintenance. Everyone check your ammo. Any weapon malfunctions or injuries?”
“None!”
“All clear!”
“Good. Catch your breath. Drink so water too. Anyone who feels low on strength, open a calorie bar and eat one.”
“Yes!”
Several soldiers took calorie bars from their pouches, tore open the wrappers, and started chewing.
These, too, had been supplied by Junho. They tasted better than expected, and each one contained a full 1,000 kilocalories. They were perfect for replenishing energy during combat.
“Squad leader, why do you think only those two are going toward the reserve-force unit? Wouldn’t it be way better if all of us went together?”
At one private first class’s question, Staff Sergeant Park looked at Junho’s retreating back and answered.
“Because of the Alpha.”
“Yes...?”
“He said by now, most Alphas should know what gunfire ans. So an Alpha won’t usually go toward the sound of gunshots first. It doesn’t want to get shot and killed either. And this place is open ground with nowhere to dodge.”
“Ahh.”
“In the end, once we succeed in shaving them down to a certain degree, soone has to go in directly. But that’s too dangerous for us. So we stand by here for now.”
Then, if the Alpha detected Junho, it would lead its slaves and attack him. At that point, the key of this operation was for Group Two and Group Three to strike from the rear.
In other words, all the zombies they had just killed were entities without an Alpha giving them orders, and the concept Junho called “shaving” ant eliminating those ordinary zombies first.
“Wow, he really is incredible. Anyone watching would think he’d been through the apocalypse a few tis already.”
“Khh! Why? You think he regressed or sothing? Like one of those regression-possession-reincarnation webtoons?”
“Heh heh. I’m just saying.”
Without even suspecting that they had touched the “truth,” the squad mbers chatted quietly among themselves.
But their eyes never once neglected their surroundings.
No matter how airtight the drone surveillance was, they knew very well now, as seasoned warriors, that in the end, the only thing they could truly trust was themselves.
***
“How’s your firing angle?”
— Good. Perfect.
Kim Jimin, ard with a modified air rifle and a replicated KP9, had taken position with a G1 drone on the roof of a rural house.
Aside from being shocked when Junho simply lifted the heavy G1 drone and carried it up a ladder onto the roof, he had not once been startled or flustered during combat, showing a thoroughly professional performance.
“Don’t overdo it. Focus on the targets the AI designates.”
— The ones presud to be Alphas, right?
“Yes. Once they’ve seen , they’ll stay alert for , but they won’t be watching your side.”
Once the Alpha in this area heard gunfire, it would place a large number of slaves on Junho’s side when trying to catch him.
It would do that to protect itself, in case he might have a gun.
As a result, the biological defense wall made of slave zombies would likely be relatively thinner on the side of the house where Kim Jimin was positioned.
Junho intended to exploit exactly that and ask Kim Jimin to kill the Alpha.
'It’s a rural Alpha, so even if I kill it myself, I don’t think my stats will aningfully increase anyway.'
He could not explain it precisely, but that was how it felt.
Of course, many a little made a mickle, but killing a small-ti Alpha commanding only one or two hundred slaves did not seem likely to improve his physical abilities.
“Hoo.”
After lightly regulating his breathing, Junho folded the stock of his AR-15, slung it behind his back, and took out the “new” firearm he had secured to his tactical backpack.
It was the Benelli M4 shotgun he had obtained when he wiped out the gangsters in Cheongsan Building in Moku-ri.
In an apocalypse, especially in a situation like this, an M4 shotgun holding only 7 1 rounds even with an extended tube was not rely inefficient—it was a gun that should not be used in the first place.
But the reason Junho had deliberately brought it and planned to use it was simple.
He needed to draw as much aggro as possible.
That was why Junho had brought not only the M4 shotgun, but also sothing “special” he had received from Lee Seokjin’s unit.
— Estimated more than 150 zombie entities within a 200-ter radius centered on Master Lee Junho. One Alpha entity confird. More than ten survivors.
— Ten o’clock direction. Fifty ters. Upper floor of the Dandelion Supermarket building. Alpha and multiple slaves watching. No special movent.
“Are all the entities around here slaves?”
— That is the estimate. All confird entities within a 150-ter radius are stationary. They are distributed across five buildings.
Then nearly two hundred zombies were all slaves controlled by the Alpha.
As expected, the cunning bastard had heard the gunfire and hidden inside buildings with its slaves for now.
Then, when it judged that this area had been mostly cleared and humans passed along the village road, it would probably have them burst out from multiple buildings at once and swarm them.
And that plan was extrely effective.
Before the regression, countless Republic of Korea Army units and survivor groups had beco zombie feed—or turned into their own kind—that way.
“But it won’t work this ti. Akina, aside from where that Alpha bastard’s holed up, which building has the most zombies packed inside?”
— Two o’clock direction. Second floor of the cell phone store. 88 Billiards Club.
“Survivors?”
— None confird by thermal cara.
“Got it.”
Junho imdiately took a small, round object from his pouch.
Ting!
He removed the pin and hurled it hard toward the second-floor billiard hall window roughly twenty ters away.
Crash!
The window shattered, and a few seconds later—
Kwa-koooooom—!!!
An explosion powerful enough to shake the building and the ground erupted, spewing all kinds of fragnts and dust out through the second floor as if the building were vomiting them up.
The enormous blast was loud enough to carry beyond the surrounding area and reach the reserve-force unit about a kiloter away.
“Ah, that scared ....”
Even Junho, the one who had thrown it, was montarily startled.
A grenade’s destructive power really was sothing else.
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