Crows and the Dead (II)

Lin An had originally intended to use the Crow's cawing as cover to sneak up on the enemies, either getting right beside them or behind them before suddenly opening fire.

However, looking at the six rectangular boxes formed by the Bullet Screen, Lin An realized his original plan was a bit too risky; the enemies were no ragtag mob, and they hadn't left him any openings to exploit.

[Streamer, don't go over there. They're all veterans, their coordination is too seamless.]

[Right, they're flanking from both sides and maintaining the exact same pace as they advance.]

Lin An stood in the shadow of the corridor corner, his back pressed against the wall. The yellow light of an emergency lamp shone from behind him, casting a small, blurry shadow at his feet.

In the darkness, dozens of Bullet Screen comments flowed along the edge of his vision; the text drifted past the corner of his eye like fish in an aquarium.

The Bullet Screen marked the location of every enemy in his field of view with red rectangles.

There were three in the left corridor, arranged in a triangular formation. Leading them was a gunman boss named Marco, with two Slavs behind him, one on the left and one on the right, maintaining a constant two-meter gap.

There were three more toward the kitchen on the right. A man the other Slavs called Igor was in the lead, with the other two positioned slightly behind him, the three of them forming a constantly moving triangle.

The distance between the two flanks was about fifteen meters, and they were advancing toward the storage room at almost identical speeds, pausing every few steps to sweep their muzzles across the front and sides to confirm the area was clear before continuing.

Could he sneak up on them?

The risk was high.

Some in the Bullet Screen urged him to retreat, but... Lin An didn't want to give up this opportunity.

"Flap, flap..."

The sound of feathers beating against the air rang out. Lin An's shoulder tensed, and he turned his head to look.

It was Director. This pitch-black crow was tilting its head at him, its onyx-like eyes reflecting his own shadow.

[Streamer, get out of there! The three gunmen are right in front of you. They'll see you as soon as they round the corner...]

Wait, see me?

Looking at this comment, Lin An narrowed his eyes, and it felt as if a bomb had gone off in his heart.

Oh, right! They're about to see me, but I can already see them!

What am I afraid of?

Don't I have a gun in my hand?

No, I have five rifles, six pistols, and over twenty throwable explosives in my inventory. Fighting a small-scale skirmish is more than enough.

Besides, I've got a wallhack enabled. What is there to fear?

It should be those Slavs on the other side who are afraid!

Thinking of this, the corners of Lin An's mouth curled up. He raised his hands; Director took flight, the Beretta pistol vanished, and an AKM assault rifle appeared in his grip. He dropped into a horse stance, gripped the rifle, and pulled the trigger toward the front.

The second after the gunfire erupted, a man walked out from the corridor corner at the perfect moment.

Three bullets flew out. The Slav, wearing light body armor, seemed to walk right into them; one missed, one hit him square in the chest, and one struck his neck.

Before he could even raise the shotgun in his hands, he fell backward, his back slamming against the corridor floor. The yellow light of the emergency lamp shone on his face, his eyes still wide open.

The other Ukrainian next to him immediately ducked back behind the corner. The box remained stuck to the edge of the wall, motionless, while the Bullet Screen refreshed rapidly.

[One behind the corner, distance four meters, brick wall, about twenty centimeters thick. The 7.62×39mm rounds of an AKM can penetrate at this distance.]

Lin An immediately aimed the muzzle of the AKM at the wall where the box was located and pulled the trigger. Thump-thump-thump, a burst swept across the area of the box. A spray of bullet holes instantly appeared on the wall, and brick shards flew everywhere.

The box shook violently, and then the second Slav tumbled out from behind the corner, collapsing sideways onto the corridor floor. He was still clutching his AKM, but he no longer had the strength to lift his weapon.

The third man was like a startled mouse, running backward so frantically that Lin An couldn't find an opening to fire.

He had no choice but to reload his magazine while advancing toward the dining area.

He had only taken a few steps when he saw three boxes rushing over from the kitchen on the right. The two sides were separated by only a single door, a distance of about fifteen meters.

Lin An immediately swung his muzzle and opened fire on the hollow steel door of the kitchen. The muzzle flash danced, and the handguard of the rifle slammed against Lin An's left hand, but he kept it firmly pinned down.

A row of bullets hammered into the kitchen's back door. The heavy steel door was instantly riddled with a line of clean bullet holes. The steel plate buckled inward, and metal fragments mixed with soot and dust exploded into the kitchen. The door dented slightly, the automatic closer screeched, and bullets ricocheted wildly inside the room.

Aside from punching a row of holes in the door, Lin An's shots failed to hit the three men inside. The reason was simple: the pots, pans, and countertops inside served as the perfect cover.

As soon as the gunfire started, the three men inside quickly and skillfully ducked behind cover that could block bullets, evading the stray rounds.

"Suka Blyat!!!"

Igor, backed against an oven, cursed loudly as bullets pinged against the steel plate above his head.

A shard of flying ceramic tile grazed his cheek, and beads of blood dripped from his chin onto the webbing of his body armor.

"Igor, the door!"

The Ukrainian on the left shouted.

Igor peeked out from the side of the oven. The kitchen's back door had been turned into a sieve; the yellow light from the corridor's emergency lamp shone through the bullet holes, looking like a row of crooked eyes that had suddenly sprouted on the door.

It was about time; the enemy's bullets must be running out, as an AKM magazine only held thirty rounds.

Igor didn't shout; he simply waved his hand. The two Slavs to his left and right gripped their weapons, ready to launch a counterattack the moment the gunfire stopped.

[Kitchen countertop, stainless steel, two millimeters thick. They are waiting for the streamer to reload.]

[Streamer, your magazine is almost empty.]

[Three people in the kitchen, behind cover, no casualties yet]

[One behind the oven on the left, two under the workstation on the right]

Lin An released the trigger, and the bolt of the AKM locked to the rear... the magazine was empty.

He quickly stowed the empty rifle into the warehouse and simultaneously withdrew a second AKM, already loaded with a full magazine.

The entire movement took less than a second. The muzzle pointed back toward the kitchen, the trigger was pulled, and the suppressive fire remained uninterrupted.

Igor rose from behind the workstation, preparing to fire during the gap in the reload, but the moment his sights settled on the riddled steel door, a continuous stream of bullets came his way.

Igor ducked back behind the workstation with a jolt. The bullets chased his head, slamming into the stainless steel panel, piercing the thin metal, ricocheting inside, and punching through the other side, leaving a row of bullet holes in the wall behind him.

Igor wasn't hit, but the gunman on the left collapsed to the floor with a thud, twitching, unable to stand. A fountain of blood hissed from his neck toward the ceiling, and within two or three seconds, he went still.

Igor glanced at him and knew the man was beyond saving... a bullet had torn a massive hole in his carotid artery; how could anyone survive that?

Rather than saving others, Igor's priority now was self-preservation. He listened to the sound of bullets piercing metal above his head and felt that something was deeply wrong.

As a Slav, he knew very well that no one could reload an AKM in under a second unless there was more than one enemy.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, as his own side's gunfire erupted.

The gunman beside the freezer to Igor's right couldn't stand the suppression any longer. He raised his AKM over his head, exposing only the weapon and one hand, and fired blindly toward the kitchen door based on memory.

Bullets tore through the steel door and struck the corridor wall, sending plaster fragments flying everywhere, but not a single shot hit Lin An, because he had already seen the enemy's movement through the frame and stepped aside, using the wall to block the enemy's line of fire.

At this moment, the steel door, having endured two magazines from Lin An, finally gave way under the blind fire from inside the kitchen. With a creak, it collapsed, exposing the kitchen within.

At this time, the Bullet Screen highlighted the position of that gun and hand with a red box.

[Side of the freezer, he is firing blindly, gun held over his head, hand exposed.]

Lin An quickly stowed the second empty AKM into the warehouse and withdrew the Type 56 Assault Rifle. He shouldered it, raised his hand, and tossed an M67 grenade at an angle, letting it land in the corner of the kitchen.

With a boom, shrapnel flew, clattering against the various metal objects in the kitchen with a metallic din.

The Slav gunman, still providing suppressive fire, was a veteran; even when the grenade exploded, he didn't pull his hand back, continuing to fire and send bullets through the doorway.

Even so, the shockwave of the explosion made his muzzle jerk, disrupting his firing rhythm.

Lin An seized the opportunity, immediately leaned out, aimed his muzzle at the position of the hand by the freezer, and pulled the trigger.

The rate of fire of the Type 56 was higher than the AKM. Amidst the heavy thud-thud-thud of gunfire, bullets struck the metal casing of the freezer, ricocheted, and hit the hand and the receiver of the AKM held over his head.

The AKM flew from the owner's grip, struck the wall, and clattered to the floor.

The Slav gunman screamed and retreated behind the freezer. Igor took this moment to lean out, attempting to take over the suppressive fire, but he didn't realize his every move was being watched by the Bullet Screen.

Lin An, using his wallhack, adjusted his aim before the enemy even leaned out. Following the recoil of the Type 56, he swept his muzzle in an arc toward the kitchen. One bullet landed on Igor's shoulder with a thwack, causing him to stumble backward.

The Type 56 had a high rate of fire, and with Lin An holding the trigger down, he emptied the magazine in just three seconds.

Lin An stowed the Type 56 back into the System Store. This time he didn't switch weapons, but instead took out an M67 grenade. With a Beretta in his right hand, he tossed the grenade into the kitchen without pulling the safety pin.

The grenade traced an arc through the air and landed precisely behind Igor.

The familiar sound of a grenade landing made Igor, still lying on the floor, spring up without a second thought, performing a kip-up and diving in the opposite direction.

At that moment, Lin An stepped across the kitchen's back door, strode in, and opened fire at the jumping frame.

"Bang, bang, bang..."

The semi-automatic military pistol fired three shots in Lin An's hand.

Igor grunted, his body slamming into the tiled floor and sliding half a meter, knocking over a stainless steel soup pot. He writhed twice, trying to stand, but failed.

Lin An gave the enemy no chance. He shifted his aim and fired three more shots at the man to finish him off.

After the gunfire, Igor lay still, and the kitchen fell silent.

Lin An's breathing was slightly ragged. He stood before the corpse and looked around.

The yellow light of the emergency lamp shone in from the corridor, passing through the wreckage of the riddled steel door and casting fragmented shadows across the tiled floor of the kitchen.

The gunpowder smoke had not yet dissipated, suspended in the air and sliced into layers of gray-blue gauze by the light.

The stainless steel workstation was embedded with dozens of bullet holes, the edges curled inward as if pierced from behind by an invisible hand.

The metal casing of the freezer was covered in dents and holes from ricochets. The compressor was still humming, and refrigerant leaked with a hiss from a broken copper pipe, carrying a pungent, chemical sweetness.

Three people lay on the kitchen floor.

Igor lay face down on the tiles, a pool of dark liquid spreading beneath him.

The stainless steel soup pot rolled by his feet, the bottom still wobbling slightly. His right hand still gripped the AKM, his index finger resting on the trigger guard, as if he had been trying to raise the weapon at the very last moment.

The Slav by the side of the freezer was curled up. His right hand was reduced to just the thumb and index finger; the other three fingers had been severed by bullets at the second knuckle, the jagged stumps revealing white shards of bone.

His eyes were still open, staring at his mutilated hand, his expression frozen in a state of incredulous bewilderment.

The man beneath the exhaust duct lay on his back, his chest and abdomen riddled with a dense cluster of bullet holes from the APS. The bulletproof vest had stopped a few, but not all.

The Bullet Screen flowed quietly at the edge of Lin An's vision.

[Whoo, three in the kitchen, all wiped out, a river of blood, I love it.]

[Two more in the left corridor, one dead at the corner, shot in the neck. One killed through the wall.]

[Six people, five corpses, one got away. Not perfect.]

[Damn, one against six, you accidentally killed five, what more do you want? Streamer, hurry up and loot the battlefield. Take all the weapons and ammo; I want to trade for them later.]

At this moment, Director flew in from the direction of the corridor, the sound of its wings beating against the air sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet kitchen.

It landed on Lin An's shoulder, its claws hooking into his coat. Its eyes, like black agates, swiveled around before it lowered its head to peck at the feathers on its chest.

Lin An curled his lips into a smile and began to clean up the battlefield, scavenging the weapons, equipment, and ammunition from the three corpses in the kitchen before walking out and returning to the left corridor.

There were two more unlooted corpses in the passageway. They had been struck by assault rifle bullets; even with body armor, the bodies were still a gruesome sight, a bloody mess with their internal organs spilling out from the holes torn open by the rounds.

It had been fine in the kitchen where the lighting was poor and the Bullet Screen couldn't see clearly, but now under the emergency lights of the corridor, they finally saw the scene, and the Bullet Screen was instantly filled with complaints.

[The one at the neck, the bullet hole is still bubbling blood. The one that got shot through the wall, the armor was pierced, a hole in the chest, the guts are spilling out. Is that an intestine? That pink piece.]

[Stop it, I'm eating.]

[It's midnight, what are you eating? A late-night snack?]

[Instant noodles. Can't eat them anymore.]

[Isn't the streamer disgusted?]

Lin An glanced at the Bullet Screen, shrugged, spread his hands, and even flashed a smile.

"It's just a game. How could I throw up in a game?"

[???]

[The streamer is mentally unstable.]

[Nonsense, would a mentally normal person come looking for thrills alone?]

[I think it's fine... Streamer, why don't you let us out to play too? I'm watching and my blood is boiling; I wish I could hold a gun and trade fire with them too.]

Lin An burst into laughter. Director flew off his shoulder and landed on a toppled shelf nearby, tilting its head to look at him.

"Seeing you guys, I'm relieved. I thought I had a mental illness, but it looks like I'm fine. You all like to play just like me."

[Stop talking, hurry up and loot the battlefield. There are still a few people left.]

Right.

Lin An quickened his pace, stripping the weapons and gear off the remaining two corpses. Just as he picked up the walkie-talkie from one of the bodies, a man's voice came through the speaker.

"Who are you?"

It was a deep, English voice with a rolling tongue.

[Sergei, that's Sergei's voice.]

[This kid is on the third floor.]

[Streamer, don't answer. That old guy is recording; he might use your voice for a voiceprint analysis.]

Lin An looked at the walkie-talkie in his hand. The yellow light of the emergency lamp shone on his face, and the eye sockets of his skull mask curved once more.

Interesting. Why not answer?

So, he pressed the talk button, deliberately suppressing his throat and pressing his tongue against his jaw. Then, a string of Russian, sounding as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper and carrying a dry, granular texture even in its trailing notes, spilled from his lips.

"Я Кощей / I am Koschei."

Lin An released the talk button, but the other side of the walkie-talkie went silent.

The Bullet Screen exploded.

[Кощей? Koschei???]

[Who is Koschei? Can an expert explain?]

[The immortal one in Slavic mythology. Koschei. In the stories, he hides his soul in a needle, the needle in a duck, the duck in a rabbit, the rabbit in an iron chest, and the iron chest is buried in a distant death wizard.]

[Simply put, Koschei is an unkillable lich.]

[The immortal Koschei. The streamer just told the other side in Russian that he is the immortal Koschei.]

On the other side of the walkie-talkie, Sergei's face turned ashen. He turned his head and growled at the person beside him.

"Use the controller to bring the monster up from the basement. I want to see if that Koschei can beat the monster created by Traplex Bio."