After sending the request for support, Kobe immediately rushed out of the house to help his teammates. It was not as if he thought they could defeat them with his addition—after all, the Felified Humans' strength was still fresh in his mind. They had wiped out an entire squad, let alone a five-man team.
So Kobe's plan was to hold them off with their guns for as long as possible. If they truly could not hold out, they would let them into the village and use the terrain to play hide-and-seek with them. Besides, there were plenty of people here who could distract them. As long as they dragged things out until reinforcements arrived, everything would be fine.
As for whether the people in the village would come to harm, Kobe could not worry about that right now. Besides, none of them were American citizens, and he had no connection to them. He was stationed with the US Army in Afghanistan, not a United Nations peacekeeper. Was he supposed to throw away his own life for people who had nothing to do with him?
Kobe had made up his mind, but the moment he came outside, he froze. The scene before him was far different from what he had imagined. In his mind, once the gunfire started, ordinary civilians should have been hiding under their beds, trembling too hard to come out. But the people here were far too fierce.
The villagers had rushed out almost at the same time as Kobe. Men and women alike, from elderly men and women in their sixties and seventies to teenagers of fourteen or fifteen, all came out carrying guns. Their weapons were a mixed bag: AK-47 assault rifles, Mosin-Nagant rifles from after World War II, and even the occasional RPK light machine