Orc Tyrant

"But I thought we were alone,"

Kolobanov said that the battle of this day left him physically and mentally exhausted.

"It looks like things have changed."

Joe responded dryly.

The captain felt his chest beating, and a warm feeling flowed through, as if heaven had opened a brand new door for him, and sunlight was shining in through it.

"That doesn't necessarily mean that they are here to help us. You have seen those weird people, right."

Joe continued to speak as if he had heard Kolobanov's hope.

"They are also human after all."

Kolobanov knew who Joe was talking about—the kind who came from across the ocean and talked about all sorts of weird things, so let’s just say so.

He doesn't care what the worldview and beliefs of those people are like, as long as they are willing to bring help, there is nothing to demand.

But Joe is different. He is a devout believer. He can't tolerate certain words of those people, such as—

atheism.

He did not intend to explain more with his gunner on this issue.

"Did you hear anything from the command post, Lieutenant?"

"We haven't received any communications since we came out."

After Joe finished speaking, he paused.

"We have to go back to the bunker. If we drag it down, the possibility of mechanical failure is very high. Don't expect to get a trailer at that time.

"Then don't wait and leave."

They trudged through the dry gorge, forming a loose triangle formation under the cold moonlight, and blowing dust behind them.

In front of them, a thick yellowish-brown fog was slowly approaching, blocking out the moonlight like a wall. The climate of the canyon was so impermanent. It had just been clear and cloudless, the mist would soon rise.

Kolobanov closed his eyes for a while in the dark cabin after closing the light-transmitting hole.

His eyes were sore from staring outside through the slit and scope, and from time to time he raised his angle of view to look at the night sky.

Those false stars and comets, as well as the line of fire through the night.

No matter who is on the canyon, they are pounding each other, passing through the surrounding hell.

what does that mean? Reinforcements? rescue? retreat? victory?

He saw hope when they saw the flash of light in the sky for the first time, but at the same time he also wanted to believe that his first war was over. He felt that what Joe said might be closer to the truth—the new stars in the sky. It may be a signal of hope, or it may be a bad omen.

"We will be back in the mist in a few minutes."

Said Alek, who was back in the driving position, and then turned to look at the captain.

"Head, how far is it to go home?"

"Almost... half an hour."

Eric shrugged, although Kolobanov couldn't see him.

"The road conditions are very bad now, and our speed will not be too fast."

Kolobanov did not reply, and the low sound of the machine once again surrounded the cabin, shaking him in the noise.

A few minutes later, as Eric said, the fog swallowed them.

At first, it seemed that there was a cliff composed of gradually expanding thick fog above them, then it surrounded them, and quickly passed the lens of their periscope, rolling like sand deposited on the bottom of a river.

Kolobanov controlled his instinctual fear.

For a moment, it was as if they were sinking rapidly in deep, dirty water.

The fog is so thick that it is a bit abnormal.

He focused his attention entirely on the periscope, trying to identify the location of the other two armors attached. Although his car is equipped with a radio, after all, the two sides are not a command system.

Under normal circumstances, they would disperse and rely on the on-board radio to keep in touch, but since one of the light tanks was stumbling on a damaged track, they moved as close as possible to each other.

The small formation went on for another ten minutes. They crossed the road strewn with the remains of the fortifications, passed the bombed metal frame, and passed through puddles full of solidified sludge.

The sound of the track and the exhaust gas disappeared in the thick water vapor like pus.

No one speaks, neither in the car nor on the radio.

The only noise is the hiss of the engine driving the tracks and the breathing of everyone.

"Need to park."

The radio suddenly sounded, and the sound made Kolobanov jump up.

"there is a problem?"

There was a crackling sound on the radio, and then the voice of the captain of the tank with damaged tracks came back.

"The sound of the track has changed."

He said, his voice full of exhaustion.

"Maybe the metal is a bit fatigued, I have someone hammer it down a few times."

"Ok."

Kolobanov finished speaking and swallowed his fatigue.

His mouth seemed to contain sand, and there was pain in the back of his eyes.

"Okay, that's it, as soon as possible."

He blinked, shook his head, and tried to regain his attention.

So he opened the communication channel:

"All vehicles, stop for five minutes and stay alert."

The second light tank confirmed the order, but he couldn't hear them clearly, and he felt like he was about to fall forward.

With a chill, he yanked himself back into the seat again.

He had to find a way to stay awake, so he spent a while trying to distinguish where they were, performing calculations, and comparing the terrifying landscape they passed with the luminous map on the podium.

This is of no use.

After calculating the distance for the second time, he found that his eyelids were shaking.

He must stay awake...

He must...

Suddenly, Kolobanov's eyes widened, his head suddenly lifted, and he slammed into the upper hatch.

The sharp pain drove away the afterimage of a dream. Not only did his head feel pain from the impact, he swallowed, trying to clear the smell of bile from his mouth.

Because No. 41 trembled.

Kolobanov was stunned.

Is that true? It was not like the vibration of the machine when it was running, but like the ground beneath them was shaking.

He slowly turned his head to Joe, the gunner was aside, sleeping soundly, he pulled the black headgear up, and the eyepiece was on his forehead.

Maybe that's not true? Maybe it was just an echo of his dream that hadn't completely disappeared?

Kolobanov felt like someone had nailed a nail to his forehead, driven by instinct, he carefully turned on the radio.

"Does anyone feel it?"

No one responded, and he repeated it again.

Once again, the tremor came again.

Joe changed positions, but didn't wake up.

Kolobanov has opened his external field of vision, pressing the eyepiece on the viewfinder.

The outside world has not changed much-it is still a high wall made of rotating thick fog, exposed to a slightly faded white-green field of vision, opening and closing in the dark, as if opening a door briefly, revealing behind the door corridor.

Somewhere in the distance there was a spot of light bursting with heat, spreading and disappearing in the dense fog.

A second later he heard a rumble explosion.

Kolobanov switched to the normal angle of view, and after a heartbeat he saw an orange light forming, leaving snowflakes on the retina.