Chapter 1070: Chapter 1070 Not Looking Good

"Ugh —"

The captain grimaced, his body twisting on the ground like a crushed worm as pain tore through every nerve. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, then forced himself to push up despite the agony ripping through his ribs.

The world wobbled.

His vision swam, the ground tilting beneath him. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head hard and slapped his temples, trying to beat the dizziness back into submission.

Across from him, the bald man straightened as well, rolling his shoulders as he rose. A smug smile spread across his face, a slow and satisfied look on his face, like a predator already convinced the fight was over.

"Ha! So this is the level of an elite soldier, huh?" the bald man scoffed, rolling his shoulders a few more times.

A sharp twinge flared along his ribs, the lingering pain from the repeated punches, and the sneer on his face slowly twisted into something darker. He had taken damage too, and that realization only fed his anger.

His eyes hardened as murderous intent surfaced. If he was going to hurt, then the man in front of him would pay for it, with his life. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The captain spat the blood from his mouth, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand before snorting at the bald man.

"Glad you like it..." he replied mockingly.

He caught the slight wince the man tried and failed to hide, the pain betraying him despite his tough act. Gritting his teeth, the captain staggered back to his feet and settled into his stance once more, as if being slammed into the ground hadn’t broken him at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dave peering from the warehouse.

The tension in his chest eased instantly.

With that reassurance, he turned all his focus back to the enemy in front of him. There was no longer any need to hold back or worry about Dave and Luke. He could fight freely now, fight at his best.

The bald man sensed the shift immediately.

The man before him seemed different, his presence suddenly heavier, more oppressive. The sharpness in the captain’s eyes intensified, honed to a blade’s edge, and for the first time, the bald man felt a flicker of unease.

After that, the two locked into another brutal exchange of fists, their blades long since kicked out of reach. This time, however, the captain held nothing back; every strike was driven by the intent to kill.

He stumbled at first, drawing a flicker of confidence from his opponent. Then, without warning, he broke into a sprint.

The bald man assumed that the captain would try the same move as before and braced himself, ready to trap the captain’s neck between his arm and waist once more.

But the captain changed tactics.

In a sudden burst of momentum, he leapt and flipped mid‑stride. For a split second, the bald man expected a flying kick, but instead, powerful legs snapped shut around his head, locking his skull between the captain’s thighs.

Using his body weight and momentum, the captain twisted hard and wrenched the larger man off balance, flipping him over and slamming him into the ground with a heavy, bone‑jarring impact.

He didn’t give his opponent even a second to react.

His thighs tightened, muscles coiling and twisting, until a sharp, sickening crack echoed through the air.

The bald man’s body went limp.

His breathing stopped as his neck snapped, the fight ending in a single, decisive moment.

Why did the captain act to kill the bald man only now?

Earlier, the bald man had been too cautious, every move calculated, always keeping his distance from the captain. The captain couldn’t strike directly, so he played a different game; he acted weaker compared to the bald man to lower his guard.

One of his moves was letting himself get slammed to the ground. That small gesture fed the bald man’s arrogance; he thought he had the captain cornered and could kill him. But the captain had anticipated this. He let the bald man believe he was weaker, allowed him to fall for feints designed to manipulate his actions... and now, the bald man was dead.

The captain let out a relieved sigh, but there was no time to linger. He staggered toward the warehouse, snatching his assault rifle and dagger from the ground. As he neared the entrance, he spotted Luke and Dave. Only then did his relief deepen. Striding quickly to their side, he first grabbed the enemy’s weapon and checked to see if the two of them needed any additional firepower.

"Young Minister Dave..." the captain said weakly, managing a faint smile at Dave and Luke as they stood at the entrance, weapons still raised. They hadn’t lowered their guard, not here, not while they were still deep in the enemy’s territory.

"I’m glad... that you’re both alright," he added.

His back hit the rusted door, and he slowly slid down until he was seated on the ground, allowing himself a brief moment of rest as he waited for the others. The fight had drained him completely, from the initial gunfire to the brutal close-quarters combat that followed. The bald man had been no ordinary opponent. Because of that, the captain had taken more than his share of blows, and now his entire body ached in protest.

He could still feel it most where he had been hit multiple times as he deliberately used himself as bait.

Feigning weakness, letting himself be struck, allowing the man to believe victory was within reach, only then had the bald man lowered his guard enough for the captain to end it. It had been a dangerous gamble, but without it, there was no telling how long the fight would have dragged on... or whether the captain would have won at all.

That man had been ruthless, well-versed in dirty tricks and underhanded tactics. For a righteous soldier bound by discipline and rules of engagement, facing such an opponent had been especially difficult, hard to read, harder to counter.

"Ha... ha... ngh..." The captain panted, then grunted as he shifted slightly. One hand pressed against his side, fingers probing as if he were counting how many broken ribs he had. "Damn... he got me good," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Pain flared with every breath. He reached for his waist pouch, searching out of habit, then cursed under his breath when he realized he didn’t have any coolant spray. Without it, even moving would be too painful for him; his injuries might even threaten to slow him down when they could least afford it.

His gaze slid to the bald man’s corpse lying face-down a dozen meters away, and he scowled.

"How many?" Luke asked quietly, looking down at him. One glance at the captain’s labored breathing was enough to tell that his ribs were broken and that the pain was severe.

"Three," the captain replied.

He knew exactly what Luke was asking. There was no point hiding it; doing so would only slow them down later. Letting them know the truth would allow them to adjust the extraction plan, redistribute the personnel, and tighten their formation accordingly.

"That’s bad," Dave said grimly. "You shouldn’t move too much. We don’t know if the broken ribs have affected any internal organs or major nerves."

Even as he spoke, Dave scanned the captain’s gear, kneeling beside him and checking his waist pouch for a first-aid kit. If there were bandages or anything at all, that might give the captain some relief.

Noticing this, the captain let out a pained chuckle before breaking into a cough. "Cough. Young Minister... I don’t have any left," he said with effort. "I gave everything I had to the other injured men earlier."

"Tsk..." Dave clicked his tongue, worry clearly written across his face. He knew injuries like this couldn’t be taken lightly. A few broken ribs could easily mean internal bleeding, and that thought alone made his expression darken.

Just then, the remaining members of the team jogged back from opposite sides of the abandoned warehouse. They looked like hell.

No one needed to ask what had happened. One look was enough for Luke and Dave to know the fight hadn’t been easy. The others were in no better shape than the captain, bruised, battered, and looking like they’d been dragged across the ground.

At least there was one small consolation.

Since they are now low on resources, they hadn’t wasted the opportunity. They’d stripped their enemies of everything useful, like the remaining ammunition, usable weapons, potential clues, anything that might help them survive what would come next.

"Captain!"

"Captain, what happened to you?! You look like shit!"

"Thanks for the compliment," the captain shot back, glaring at the speaker with stubborn defiance, as if to reassure them he was fine. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself from coughing up a bit of blood.

"Captain, stop acting tough and get some rest," the others urged.