The smoke from the entrance to Anvil Canyon had not yet dissipated, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of burnt flesh and molten metal.
Inside the hastily erected central command tent of the Sass Empire, the atmosphere was even more oppressive and cold than on the battlefield.
"Bang!"
Count Sauron Bloodfang's bloodshot eyes were almost spitting fire. His calloused fist slammed hard on the rough wooden table, making the blood-stained silver cup on the table jump.
"Horn! Victor Horn!"
Sauron's roar was hoarse with rage, and his spittle almost landed on the pale, calm face of the Orc researcher opposite him.
"Is this the sincerity of your Principality of Oak?! Is this your so-called 'small gift'?! My three thousand iron cavalry! My Red Scorpion Vanguard! All of them were buried by your damned 'resonance nails'! Those iron lumps didn't die at all! They got up and crushed my warriors like insects!"
The four trusted generals behind him, all exuding the heavy pressure of gold-level warriors, were like ferocious beasts ready to devour their prey, their eyes fixed on Victor Horn and the silent, dark red alchemical warrior behind him.
The bloodstains on their armor were still wet, and their eyes burned with grief and indignation at the tragic deaths of their comrades and intense resentment at the Orks' "stand idly by".
Victor Horn adjusted his monocle, his eyes behind the lens sharp yet calm, as if the enraged count and the suffocating pressure of the gold-level aura were merely a gentle breeze.
He slowly and deliberately adjusted the cuffs of his dark gray wool coat, his voice still carrying that distinctive, slightly metallic tone:
"Your Excellency, please calm down. Scientific experiments are inherently accompanied by risks and uncertainties."
The 'Resonant Spike' prototype did indeed cause structural weakening of the target's armor under certain conditions, as evidenced by our successful disabling and recovery of enemy units.
The defeat on the battlefield was more due to your army's fault..."
"fart!"
A particularly burly, gold-ranked general with a hideous scar on his face beside Soren could no longer contain himself.
He was Sauron's most trusted lieutenant and witnessed countless comrades being vaporized by the beams of those steel monsters.
He took a sudden step forward, his huge shadow looming over the relatively thin Victor. His calloused hand, accompanied by a shrill whistling sound as it tore through the air, viciously grabbed at Victor's collar!
"You damned tin man! You killed so many of our brothers, and you still dare to argue! Kneel down and apologize!"
This grab was as fast as lightning, containing the terrifying power of a gold-level warrior capable of crushing adamantite! It looked as if Victor's fragile neck was about to be gripped by those iron-like fingers!
In the blink of an eye!
The "Crimson Wall" behind Victor moved!
There was no roar, no build-up of power, only an extremely faint yet chilling hissing sound from the hydraulic transmission.
The dark red figure shifted half a step to the side like a ghost, instantly inserting itself between Victor and the enraged gold-level general.
The massive mechanical arm, covered in heavy armor, arrived faster than expected, precisely meeting the grabbing hand!
"Snap!"
A crisp, teeth-grinding sound of bones shattering, accompanied by the shrill, distorted scream of a gold-level general, suddenly rang out in the tent!
The hand that was strong enough to crush adamantite was now being gripped tightly by a huge, cold mechanical claw that gleamed with metallic light!
The mechanical claw's five fingers, like hydraulic clamps forged from refined gold, snapped shut without mercy! The golden-level warrior's prized battle aura was torn apart like paper, and the thick fingers, along with the wrist bones, were crushed and twisted amidst a heart-wrenching metallic scraping sound!
"Ugh—!! My hand! My hand!!"
The gold-level general was in so much pain that he almost fainted. Large beads of sweat instantly covered his forehead, and his body convulsed violently from the intense pain, but he was unable to budge the iron-like mechanical claws.
The crimson, single-eyed sensor of the "Crimson Barrier" coldly surveyed the human warriors groaning beneath its claws, while a megaphone beneath its helmet emitted a emotionless, synthesized voice:
Threat assessment: High. Elimination order: Pending. Warning: Do not approach Researcher Horn.
The entire tent fell into a deathly silence!
Count Soren's fury froze, and his pupils contracted sharply in shock.
The other three gold-level generals behind him gasped sharply, instinctively gripping their weapons, but their bodies froze on the spot, their eyes filled with disbelief and horror!
One glance!
In a single exchange, a battle-hardened Gold-level warrior, capable of taking the head of an enemy general amidst a vast army, had one of his arms easily severed by his opponent! As easily as breaking a withered branch!
The speed, power, and ruthlessness displayed by that dark red tin can completely exceeded their understanding of "warriors"! It was a cold, inhuman, and despair-inducing crushing force!
Victor Horn seemed oblivious to the tragedy behind him. He even elegantly brushed off non-existent dust from the corner of his clothes, which had been whipped up by the strong wind, and calmly looked at Sauron Bloodfang, whose face was ashen and filled with shock and rage.
“Your Excellency, I think you and your men should understand now.”
His voice remained steady, yet carried an undeniable chill: "I, and 'Crimson Fortress,' have come here on the orders of the Grand Duke. Our primary objective is not to participate in the full-scale war between your country and the Kree Empire, nor to fight on behalf of your army."
Our sole core mission is to obtain physical samples of the 'relic technology' possessed by Lind Truk for analysis and research.
He turned slightly to the side, pointing to the massive wreckage of a mining machine, which was faintly visible outside the tent and being carefully dragged towards the rear camp by the alchemy soldiers.
"That 'Earthshatterer' is our target. Its value far exceeds the lives of ten thousand ordinary soldiers."
The setbacks on the battlefield were a problem with your army's command and coordination. We provided technical support and successfully completed the core mission. As for your army's losses..."
Victor pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the dim light inside the tent, obscuring his eyes. "That's a price your country's command needs to consider."
He nodded slightly, his tone carrying the almost arrogant detachment characteristic of researchers:
"Now that the samples have been obtained, this place is of no further value to us. Your Excellency, please consider any further military actions against Blackrock Territory. We take our leave."
Having said that, Victor Horn ignored Soren's almost murderous gaze and the grief and indignation of his generals, turned around, and calmly lifted the tent flap and walked out under the imposing protection of the "Crimson Fortress".
With a casual flick of its mechanical claw, it tossed aside the deformed arm it had been holding, along with the still wailing Gold-rank general, like trash. Its heavy footsteps pounded the muddy ground, making dull "thump! thump!" sounds as it walked away into the distance.
Inside the tent, only the suppressed, heavy breathing and the painful groans of the wounded remained.
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