At Murmansk Port, the battle between the Alpha Group and an unidentified armed force continued.
The shriek of gunfire and dull booms of explosions tore through the frigid air. Tracer rounds, like crimson venomous snakes, darted and collided wildly amid the shadows of stacked containers and rusted machinery.
Relying on their superb tactical discipline, the Alpha Group members covered one another and launched assaults. Though they had been badly hit by the initial ambush, they were still capable of mounting a counterattack.
However, the attackers were no amateurs either. Not only were they well-equipped, but their leader's figure moved with unnatural blurring and acceleration, clearly having activated some Spirit Word that enhanced his abilities.
Even more troublesome were the concealed sniper shots and precisely thrown explosives, which always forced the Alpha Group back into cover whenever they were about to counterattack or seize a key firing position.
The battle sank into a brutal stalemate. Craters pocked the concrete ground, blood rapidly freezing into dark red ice in the low temperatures. Thick gunpowder smoke and the stench of blood mingled with the salty tang of the sea wind.
Amon and Rigerif stood atop the water tower, enjoying the scene as though it were a blockbuster film. The former had somehow even produced a bag of sunflower seeds.
The crunching sounds mingled with gunfire and grenade explosions, grating harshly on Rigerif's ears.
"Wait, where did you get sunflower seeds from again?" Rigerif looked as though she had seen a ghost.
"I have watermelon too. Want some?" Amon reached behind his back with his right hand and pulled out a fruit platter.
Rigerif recognized the design of the plate. It was from the Yamal.
The corner of her mouth twitched. "You really do have the leisure for this."
"How boring would it be