(PS: I got carried away writing this chapter, so it ran a little long. It's all combat and doesn't really affect the main plot. I thought it would be a shame to cut it, so anyone who's not interested can skip it.)
"What a cesspit..."
The view through his gas mask's glass eyepieces was terribly blurry, but even so, what Black-and-White Bear saw still made him marvel.
The vast stretch of swampland before him truly lived up to its name, giving off a nauseating stench.
Rotting vegetation slowly decomposed beneath the murky water. Bubbles gurgled up through the thick black mud, bursting to release concentrated marsh gas, putrid odors, and an indescribably cloying, moldy smell.
Even through the high-efficiency filter cartridge, that smell seemed to seep inside and cling stubbornly to the depths of his nose.
As far as he could see were twisted dead trees, floating rotten timber, and vast puddles covered in greasy algae, their sickly, unsettling iridescence shimmering beneath the dim daylight. The air was hot, humid, and thick, like a heavy blanket soaked in sewage.
But marveling was one thing. Black-and-White Bear's movements never faltered.
His hands, hidden inside thick protective gloves, steadily adjusted their grip on the flamethrower. Its barrel pointed forward, emitting a low, rhythmic hum. An orange-red glow glimmered at the nozzle, and its scorching heat distorted the already blurred air ahead.
He took a deep breath, filling his nose with the stink of plastic, then steadily squeezed the trigger.
"Whoosh... roar..."
A concentrated, blazing dragon of orange-white fire roared from the nozzle, tearing through the air with a shrill howl and slamming into the mire ahead.
The instant the flames touched the water, they did not die out. Instead, they burned even more fiercely. The floating grease, accumulated marsh gas, and rotting