The first day after leaving the abandoned base.
The convoy was still moving.
Mountains lay ahead.
Behind them was the industrial zone that had already been abandoned.
The roads on both sides were gradually becoming covered by trees.
The weather was not good.
The sky remained gloomy.
Heavy clouds pressed down overhead.
It looked as though it could rain at any moment.
The escort unit's vehicles maintained a fixed distance from one another as they advanced.
The reconnaissance teams continued spreading out ahead.
Drones constantly searched the surrounding area.
Yet the results were always the same.
Nothing.
No ambushes.
No surveillance.
No signs of evacuation.
There were barely even any traces of human activity.
It was as if the entire Cobra had suddenly evaporated from the world.
Inside one of the vehicles.
A member responsible for organizing intelligence stared at the map.
His brows furrowed tighter and tighter.
"Too clean."
The person beside him nodded.
"Indeed."
"Too clean to be a retreat."
Dawolf sat on the other side.
He had been staring out the window the entire time.
Since leaving the base.
He had never relaxed.
What others saw was silence.
What he saw was danger.
Because he knew.
Cobra had never liked appearing openly.
The quieter it became.
The more it meant that something was being prepared.
At noon.
The convoy stopped briefly.
Fuel was replenished.
Equipment was inspected.
The wounded had their bandages changed.
Alma sat beside a supply crate.
She was holding an old picture book she had somehow found.
Occasionally, she looked up at the people busy in the distance.
Lucian stood nearby.
Looking at the map.
He said nothing.
Dawolf walked over.
"Young Master."
Lucian looked up.
"What is it?"
Dawolf was silent for a moment.
"Something is wrong."
"What?"
"Too quiet."
Lucian did not answer.
Because he had noticed it as well.
Since leaving the base.
The enemy seemed to have completely disappeared.
That alone was highly abnormal.
Dawolf continued.
"I don't know how Cobra was originally established."
"I'm not a founding member."
"When I joined the organization."
"It had already existed for many years."
"But there is one thing I know."
Lucian looked at him.
"What?"
"They would never do nothing."
The wind swept through the temporary camp.
The surroundings fell silent again.
Evening.
The convoy set out once more.
The sun gradually sank.
The sky grew darker and darker.
Just then.
A voice suddenly came from the lead reconnaissance vehicle.
"We've detected something abnormal."
Every communication channel instantly fell silent.
"What kind of anomaly?"
"The woods."
"Someone is moving in the woods on the left."
The next second—
Boom!
An explosion suddenly erupted beside the road.
A large amount of green liquid sprayed in every direction.
The lead vehicle immediately slammed on the brakes.
The tires scraped violently against the ground.
Alarms sounded at the same time.
"Enemy attack!"
"Enemy attack!"
A large number of personnel rushed out of their vehicles.
They rapidly established a defensive line.
However, there was no gunfire from the woods.
No charge.
Only dozens of people wearing gray protective suits appeared simultaneously.
They moved extremely quickly.
Special devices were raised in their hands.
Then—
Hiss—
Green liquid sprayed outward.
Covering a large area.
White smoke rose from the ground.
Some of the vehicles' outer shells began showing signs of corrosion.
The metal emitted a grating sound that made people's teeth ache.
The communication channel instantly descended into chaos.
"Corrosive weapons!"
"Don't touch it!"
"Fall back!"
The escort unit members quickly launched a counterattack.
But those people had no intention of engaging.
The moment they finished spraying.
They turned and ran.
The entire process took less than twenty seconds.
"After them!"
Someone immediately gave the order.
Several squads charged directly into the woods.
The pursuit began.
Deep inside the woods.
The protective-suit personnel were retreating ahead.
They moved extremely fast.
The escort unit continued closing the distance.
Just as they were about to catch up—
Figures suddenly appeared ahead.
More than a dozen teenagers stood in the middle of the woods.
Blocking the path.
Everyone froze for a moment.
Because they were far too young.
The oldest looked no more than seventeen.
The youngest were barely thirteen or fourteen.
Every one of them was holding a weapon.
Yet their bodies were trembling slightly.
They were clearly afraid.
But they still refused to retreat.
"Stop!"
An escort unit member shouted.
"Get out of there!"
There was no response.
The teenagers simply raised their guns.
Some of them did not even hold their weapons properly.
Seeing this.
The pursuit slowed involuntarily.
And within those few short seconds.
The protective-suit personnel in the distance had already disappeared.
Their traces were completely lost.
By the time the escort unit moved forward again.
It was too late.
The first pursuit.
Had failed.
Night.
An emergency meeting.
The atmosphere inside the tent was oppressive.
The squad leader responsible for the pursuit looked grim.
"They used children as rear guards."
No one spoke.
Because everyone knew exactly what the problem was.
If they had been adults.
The pursuit would not have stopped.
But the people blocking their path had been teenagers.
Many of them had instinctively hesitated.
And that hesitation.
Had given the enemy time.
After listening to the report.
Dawolf slowly closed his eyes.
After a long silence, he spoke.
"As expected."
Everyone looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Dawolf spoke quietly.
"It's begun."
The next day.
The attacks came again.
This time, it was in a valley.
Several corrosive grenades suddenly landed.
Green liquid splashed everywhere.
The transport vehicles were damaged again.
By the time the escort unit charged out.
The protective-suit personnel had already begun retreating.
The pursuit began again.
The result was almost identical to the day before.
Another group of teenagers.
Blocked the retreat route.
Some were injured.
Some were afraid.
Some had even begun crying.
Yet they still stood there.
As if this was simply their mission.
Do not retreat.
Do not run.
As long as they bought enough time.
That was enough.
And by the time the escort unit broke through them.
The real target had disappeared again.
That night.
An obvious sense of frustration spread through the camp.
Someone threw their helmet onto the ground.
"What the hell is this?"
No one answered.
Because they did not know either.
The third day.
The attacks began increasing in frequency.
Once in the morning.
Once in the afternoon.
Once in the evening.
Every attack was different.
Sometimes sprayers.
Sometimes corrosive mines.
Sometimes long-range throwing devices.
Each attack lasted an extremely short time.
Dozens of seconds.
At most one minute.
Then they immediately retreated.
And the people left behind.
Were still teenagers.
Again and again.
Repeating the same pattern.
Finally.
Someone noticed the problem.
Inside the meeting tent.
A map was spread across the table.
Every pursuit route had been marked.
The analyst suddenly spoke.
"Wait."
Everyone looked at him.
"Have you noticed?"
"The positions of these teenagers."
"They're always the same."
The air fell silent.
He continued.
"They're never the main force."
"They never attack us directly."
"Their only mission is one thing."
"Delay us."
Everyone fell silent.
Because it was true.
Those teenagers did not care about victory or defeat.
They did not care about casualties.
They only cared about time.
And time.
Was exactly what the core combat force needed most.
Dawolf slowly nodded.
"Exactly."
"That's their purpose."
Everyone looked at him.
Dawolf stared at the map.
His voice was low.
"When I joined the organization."
"This tactic already existed."
"I don't know who designed it."
"And I don't know who established it in the beginning."
"But for many years."
"Cobra has always fought this way."
He raised his hand.
Pointing at several areas on the map.
"Attack first."
"Then retreat."
"Then use rear guards to buy time."
"Finally, let the core members disengage."
"Repeat."
"Again and again."
"Constantly wear the enemy down."
The tent grew increasingly silent.
Dawolf continued.
"The truly dangerous ones aren't those teenagers."
"Nor are they the suicide squads."
"It's the core combat group."
"They manage to withdraw completely every time."
"They preserve their fighting strength every time."
"Meanwhile, we have to keep consuming our resources."
At that moment.
Everyone finally understood.
What truly made Cobra terrifying.
They had never intended to win a single battle from the beginning.
They intended to win the entire war.
The fourth day.
The attacks continued.
The fifth day.
The same.
More and more vehicles were damaged.
More and more equipment entered maintenance.
Although casualties remained low.
Fatigue was accumulating.
So was the psychological pressure.
Everyone knew the enemy would come.
But no one knew when.
That waiting itself was torture.
Night.
The campfire burned.
Many people still had not rested.
Some checked their weapons.
Some repaired equipment.
Some simply sat in silence.
The atmosphere was oppressive.
Dawolf stared into the flames.
Then suddenly spoke.
"Do you know why they're called Cobra?"
No one answered.
He slowly said.
"Because they're like snakes."
"They don't kill their prey immediately."
"Instead, they keep closing in."
"Constantly wearing it down."
"Constantly weakening it."
"Until the prey loses all its strength."
Firelight reflected across everyone's faces.
No one disagreed.
Because over the past few days.
They had experienced it themselves.
Just then.
A member responsible for perimeter patrol suddenly rushed into the camp.
"We've detected something!"
Everyone immediately stood.
"What is it?"
"Moving heat signatures have appeared to the northwest!"
"There are a lot of them!"
The alarm sounded again.
Everyone quickly entered combat formation.
Vehicle engines started again.
Weapon safeties were disengaged.
Searchlights illuminated the distant woods.
Several seconds later.
Deep within the woods.
A large number of gray figures slowly emerged.
Still protective suits.
Still venom sprayers.
But this time.
There were far more of them than before.
Several people at the front simultaneously raised their weapons.
The next second—
A large amount of green liquid sprayed simultaneously.
Like a rain of poison.
Boom!
The edge of the road was instantly corroded.
The escort unit immediately opened suppressive fire.
Bullets swept through the woods like a storm.
Yet those protective-suit personnel still did not stop.
The moment they finished spraying.
They immediately retreated.
Their movements were practiced.
As if they had rehearsed them countless times.
"Catch them!"
Several pursuit squads charged out again.
But this time.
The moment they entered the woods.
They stopped.
Because ahead.
There were even more teenagers.
Far more than before.
Dozens of them.
Scattered throughout the woods.
Some carried rifles.
Some carried explosives.
Some did not even have protective equipment.
One of the teenagers was deathly pale.
Yet his hand was gripping a detonator tightly.
The escort unit's footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
Someone cursed quietly over the communication channel.
"Crazy..."
But the teenagers did not advance.
Nor did they run.
They simply stood there.
Blocking the path.
Behind them.
The true core combat group had already rapidly withdrawn.
Someone gritted his teeth and wanted to continue forward.
But the moment he took a step.
The teenager in front suddenly raised his gun.
His finger trembled around the trigger.
No one knew whether he would actually fire.
No one knew whether he was carrying explosives.
Time.
Was delayed once again.
By the time the escort unit finally went around them.
The depths of the woods were already completely empty.
Only countless disturbed footprints remained.
The night wind swept through the trees.
The oppressive atmosphere made it difficult to breathe.
After returning to camp.
Many members looked extremely grim.
Not because of the battle.
But because of those teenagers.
Someone quietly spoke.
"Where the hell are they getting all these kids?"
No one answered.
Dawolf sat inside the tent.
He remained silent for a long time.
Then slowly spoke.
"They weren't recruited."
Everyone looked at him.
Dawolf spoke quietly.
"Many of them grew up inside Cobra-controlled territory."
"No schools."
"No normal lives."
"From childhood."
"All they were taught."
"Was obedience."
The air grew increasingly silent.
"For those children."
"Acting as rear guards for the organization."
"Was simply the natural thing to do."
Someone clenched his fists.
"Those bastards..."
Dawolf did not contradict him.
Because that was the reality.
Many years ago.
Cobra had survived in the beginning.
By relying on exactly this method.
Core members never exposed themselves easily.
The truly dangerous people always remained behind.
And at the front.
There was always someone to buy them time.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Dozens of times.
Using this method.
They had survived countless encirclements and extermination attempts.
And now.
Viper had brought this tactic back.
In the distance.
Lucian sat quietly in the darkness.
A map lay spread out before him.
The attack locations had already formed a dense line across the map.
He remained silent the entire time.
Until, after a long while.
His finger slowly stopped at a certain position.
It was not an attack point.
It was the direction toward which all the retreat routes ultimately shifted.
Extremely subtle.
Different every time.
Yet in the end.
They were always moving closer to the same region.
Lucian slowly raised his head.
His gaze turned toward the darkness in the distance.
The wind stirred the campfire.
The flames swayed gently.
And finally.
His voice slowly rang out.
"Found you."