Abel was pinned in the mud by a Troll.
A bone spear pressed against the back of his neck, its tip cold and still stained with the last man's blood.
The Reincarnator chat platform erupted again.
"We're done for! We're going to lose again!"
"I'm getting mobbed! Somebody save me!"
"Save you, my ass! Al-Sade already ran off with his core team! The rest of us are scattered stragglers. How are we supposed to fight?"
"Sixty thousand troops! Sixty thousand! And they can't beat a bunch of savages with bone clubs! Is the RDA completely useless?!"
"Who the fuck said this mission was free loot? Show yourself! I promise I won't beat you to death!"
"Forget it. I've given up on the mission. I'm looking for a tree branch to hang myself from. Might as well make it quick!"
"+1. I'm restarting too. Good luck, everyone."
"Good luck, my ass! Will luck stop a Troll from chopping my head off?"
The channel was full of wailing and curses. Not one person thought they had a chance.
Just then.
Someone heard a piercing cry.
Abel jerked his head up.
The next second, cannon fire rolled in from beyond the horizon.
The Basilisk Self-Propelled Guns' first volley struck the rear of the Troll line. Explosions tore through a whole stretch of canopy, blasting dirt and splintered wood into the air.
The shells landed deeper and deeper along the canyon entrance, like a moving wall of fire.
A second volley followed, denser than the first, less than ten seconds later.
Then a third. A fourth.
The shockwaves sent the Pterosaurs tumbling through the air. By the time they managed to steady themselves, a storm of metal ripped their bodies apart.
F-22 Thunderhawk fighters burst from the clouds. Air-to-air missiles trailed white smoke into