A precise shot blew the Fuel Tank, turning the mind-controlled black-masked men into human torches.
Among them were black women, most with crooked teeth—clear signs of severe mutation—something only the boldest readers would find appealing.
At dusk, after hurriedly chewing some ration biscuits, the group finally neared the Tricell-controlled mine.
The Majini mob behind them didn't follow; instead they began to withdraw, fear plain on their faces.
Eddie noticed it at once: the parasites were broadcasting a signal—otherwise these frenzied blacks wouldn't know fear. A higher-ranking Majini or a Dominant species Plaga waited inside the mine.
Krauser flicked his combat knife, expressionless, watching the advancing BSAA squad outside the mine.
Wesker arrived. "Time to pull out. Coming with me?"
Krauser grunted. "Where to?"
"Shén Yà Pharmaceutical. They need someone to take charge; I'll get more power." Wesker adjusted his shades—he'd spent his life working for others, tried to start his own company, only for partner William to go mad and wreck it all.
Krauser snorted, twirling a blade. "No interest. A dog's a dog either way; I'd rather live like a man. Go ahead—I'm out. What about William?"
Wesker pushed his glasses again. "Same old trick—play dead and walk away. Your Dominant species Plaga's been tampered with; William can control you. You can't run. Help me and that control's gone."
Krauser gave a cold laugh. "Unnecessary. I'll handle it myself. Hold the fort here; I'll deal with the runt."
"Heh—good luck. If you find a decent job, give me a call." Wesker turned and left.
"Your boy-toy Chris isn't bad—BSAA'll treat you right." Krauser sneered.
Wesker walked off without looking back. Killing Krauser would be easy—but pointless.
At the same time Krauser received William's order: wipe out the incoming BSAA team—no survivors.
He cut the call and took out a vial—temporary sound-dampening for higher-parasite commands, with no loss to his own performance.
Ada had slipped him the drug during her investigation; Krauser, her pawn, had fed her intel in return for exactly what he needed.
The cool, alluring Ada stirred nothing in him—she was deadly, and her husband even more so. Cooperation was the only safe path.
He swallowed the dose and released the heavy bio-weapon co-developed by William and Brandon: the Type-2 Giant.
Bodies hung upside-down from the giant's belt—locals, and among them a BSAA squad member.
Taller than the Iberian Peninsula mutants, it stood three and a half meters—almost the height of a second floor.
Paler skin bore countless stitched surgical scars—tougher, a perfect living weapon.
Krauser watched coldly as the giant lumbered off, then directed nearby Majini mercenaries to set traps.
At the mine's edge the team found Majini miners—and many BSAA corpses. It must be Team E, Josh's squad, who'd gone ahead.
Seeing intruders, the miner-Majini roared and charged, swinging a Luoyang Shovel like a club.
Bang! Eddie fired without hesitation, dropping the infected miner.
Both squads spread out—some searching, others kneeling to check for survivors.
No luck; all were dead, partly gnawed away.
Thud! The ground shook.
Thud! Thud! Tremors intensified—then a huge truck crashed down, Chris diving clear.
An ancient-looking giant emerged, so hideous it seemed a demon from hell.
"Grenadiers—fire!" Chris knew rifles were useless; only launchers could hurt it.
Whoosh! Two Grenades slammed into the giant.
Boom! Smoke cleared—the giant was unscathed, only angrier. A dead BSAA soldier still dangled from its belt, unidentifiable.
Enraged, it charged, flipped a pickup, and tried to stomp a teammate.
The trooper kept his nerve, leaping aside at the last second.
"Everyone—mount up! MGs on the truck! Driver, warm the engine—we're moving!" Chris ordered.
"Captain, we're low on fuel—we need gas," the driver called.
"Find fuel, the rest switch to rockets and Grenades. Demo team—prep high-yield charges!" Chris revised the plan.
Pop! One of the giant's eyes exploded; it howled, clawing at the socket, even more savage.
Piers lowered his Sniper Rifle. "Captain, give me a minute—I'll blind the other eye; then we finish it."
"Go. I'll buy you the time." Chris turned. "Eddie, I need you."
"Sure. Jill, feel like walking the dog?" Eddie grinned at his wife.
"Absolutely—let's take it for a stroll!" Jill beamed.
Chapter 538: Magneto's Back
Eddie sprinted; the one-eyed giant swung its fists in wild arcs.
Buildings crumbled wherever its iron fists landed—nothing could stop the rampaging demolition.
Sensing prey, the giant's muscles split and a huge earthworm-like Plaga shot from a stitched seam, snapping at Eddie with razor teeth.
Crunch! Even steel buckled—such insane bite force!
Unhosted Plagas are frail; an adult can crush them like ants underfoot.
But inside a host they grow fierce—longer life, sharper attack—true parasites riding on their masters' strength.
Eddie dodged aside; with the giant distracted, Jill swapped her Samurai Edge for a Desert Eagle and fired into its remaining eye.
Bang! "Aaargh!" Both eyes burst—the giant was totally blind, flailing like a maddened beast.
Jill's marksmanship shamed seasoned soldiers—hitting a moving target in combat was worlds beyond range practice.
Blinded, the giant roared, then surged upright as parasites burst from its seams, hunting by sound to slaughter the humans.
Unique sonic senses guided the Plagas toward every noise.
"Shoot the worms—kill them and the ugly bastard dies!" Eddie raised his Desert Eagle and popped a parasite on the giant's back.
A hail of bullets tore into the exposed Plagas along the giant's stitched seams.