Very Wrong Reincarnation: Isekai with Game Nation

Keeping our pace in the center of the city, our men stayed vigilant, submachine guns in hand, scanning the surroundings with the highest order of caution.

"Mr. President, Monsoon reports that our air wings and naval forces are ready to attack the city," Leo said.

"They haven’t attacked us yet," I replied, hearing Leo’s report. "Not yet," I added, looking around. The shouts of news about us echoed in the background, and people glared at us with hostility. My status board was ringing with alarms of impending attacks and intense hatred directed towards us.

"The barbarians of Cignus have stolen the vessel of the goddess!"

"They killed Archbishop Natius!"

"Murderers!"

It didn’t matter if they were kids, old women, or people of all ages—everyone looked at us with contempt and hostility.

"Stallions inbound, sir," one of my men reported.

"Good," I replied, as the sound of chopping blades filled the air. Over the horizon, two black silhouettes came into view.

"Designate this as the evac zone," one of my men said, tossing a smoke bomb, marking our position with red mist.

The helicopters drew closer, their powerful gusts of wind shaking the surroundings violently, sending vendor installations and garbage flying around from the force of the rotor blades.

"Is it okay for a representative of Valur to be coming with us?" I asked, glancing at Laxur, who was following close behind.

"We're bound to leave anyway. I'm just catching a ride with you," he replied.

I nodded at his response, surprised he didn’t want to be left behind, his escorts and subordinates trailing with him.

As my eyes swept the surroundings, I noticed kids, teenagers, and a few women holding stones, sticks, and knives. "Shit," I muttered as my status board rang with the most urgent alert.

"Get them to land, quick!" I shouted as the crowd began charging toward us.

"Orders, sir?" one of my men asked.

"Fuck! Gun them down!" I yelled, drawing my Glock. I fired at a woman rushing toward us, hatred burning in her eyes. The first shot hit her arm, the second her stomach and torso. She collapsed, writhing in pain. I quickly aimed at the next target—a kid wielding a knife, face contorted with rage. I fired four bullets, and he crumpled to the ground, blood spilling as he screamed in agony.

My men unleashed their MP7s and Glocks, gunning down the hostile mob. The air filled with the sound of cries, agony, and pain as bodies dropped. Soon, the helicopter landed.

Then came the heavy sound of...

Dundundundun!

Above, the 20mm SH20 autocannons mounted on the doors began raining down large-caliber rounds. Blood and gore sprayed across the ground, turning people—men, women, children, and the elderly—into mist. Houses and vendor stalls were obliterated, everything in the path of the cannon fire strafed into nothingness.

"Jump in!" I shouted as the ramp opened from the back, and we dashed inside. The rampart machine gun and the soldiers inside immediately opened fire on the hostile mob chasing us.

"Is everyone in?!"

"Is anyone left behind?!"

"Are the Valurians all accounted for?!"

"Good!"

They quickly counted and checked the evacuees, nodding as the Valurian representative confirmed that all the escapees from this cursed place were onboard. Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the sides as the gunners at the door and rampart continued shooting, the mob closing in fast.