The cabin doors of the assault craft slid open silently, and Leon and Mike jumped down directly, buffering their landing.
Above them, the assault craft maintained a hovering state. The moment the cabin doors closed, the entire aircraft completely disappeared into the night sky.
"Safely disembarked. Night Owl Two, maintain stealth and stand by." Leon whispered through the encrypted channel.
"Copy that. Good hunting." The pilot's response was concise and powerful.
The two did not linger.
The moment their feet touched the ground, the stealth mode of their nano combat suits was already activated.
The adaptive optical camouflage fibers on the surface of the combat suits began to dynamically adjust, mimicking the surrounding environment. At their location, only two patches of air distortion, almost impossible to catch with the naked eye, remained.
Leon raised his right hand and made a few tactical gestures:
Advance, keep your distance, stay alert at all times.
Mike nodded in response, and the two began to move in a standard alternating overwatch formation.
The landing zone they chose was located in an abandoned industrial area in the eastern suburbs of Cairo.
This place seemed to have been a gathering place for textile mills and machining factories at the end of the twentieth century, but now only a field of wreckage eroded by time and disaster remained.
Rusted steel frames pierced toward the sky like the bones of giants, broken concrete walls were covered with dark purple moss-like substances, and the air was filled with a mixed smell of rust and rot.
The two were holding Investigation Department standard-issue pulse rifles.
This type of weapon featured a compact folding design. The main body of the gun was made of carbon nanotube composite materials, making it lightweight yet exceptionally sturdy.
The barrel was equipped with a special acoustic suppressor, and through phase cancellation technology, the gunshot frequency was adjusted to a range that was difficult to capture.
The scope above the gun body synchronized with the helmet screen, displaying environmental data in real time, such as temperature, humidity,
wind speed, potential threat markers, and so on.
They moved along an abandoned railway line toward the city outskirts.
The rails had long been rusted and deformed, and bizarre thorny plants grew between the sleepers.
Every few hundred meters, the wreckage of overturned freight cars could be seen. Some cars had their doors wide open, with weathered human bones and broken luggage scattered inside.
The closer they got to the city's edge, the more obvious the traces of human activity became...
Or rather, the more chilling the traces of human existence became.
In the boundary zone between the industrial area and the slums, the first batch of residents appeared.
It was a settlement transformed from factory ruins.
People used rusted sheet metal, broken concrete blocks, plastic tarps, and scrap tires to build shacks that could barely shelter them from the wind and rain.
Between the shacks were narrow alleys flowing with black sewage, and the air was filled with a stench mixed from excrement, rotting food, and despair.
Leon and Mike laid hidden behind the ruins of a collapsed water tower, observing this area through their helmets' multi-spectral observation systems.
The humans they saw were less a continuation of civilization and more some kind of pathetic residue.
These people, regardless of gender or age, all exhibited a shocking state of malnutrition.
Their skin clung tightly to their bones, their eye sockets were deeply sunken, their ribs were clearly visible, and their limbs were as thin as dead branches.
Most people wore clothes pieced together from rags and plastic scraps, stepping barefoot on the filthy ground, and their eyes...
If that could still be called a gaze, it was extremely vacant and confused.
There was no anger, no hatred, no will to resist the oppressors, and not even sorrow for their own circumstances in them.
There was only a thorough, abyssal numbness.
Like machines programmed with a set routine, they mechanically executed the most basic actions required for survival.
For example, scooping up muddy liquid from a puddle to drink, rummaging through garbage piles for anything swallowable, and then returning to their shacks to curl up, waiting for the next onset of hunger, or the next moment to be conscripted as tributes.
"Vital sign scans show an average body mass index below 15, indicating severe malnutrition."
Mike's voice came through the internal channel, suppressing his emotions. "Blood oxygen saturation is universally low, and signs of multiple parasites and chronic infections are detected in their bodies. Damn it...
These scumbags can't even be bothered to do the most basic feeding; they are completely leaving them to fend for themselves."
Leon did not speak.
He increased the resolution of his helmet camera, recording every detail of the scenes unfolding before his eyes.
Such as a mother feeding the last moldy breadcrumbs to the infant in her arms, licking her own empty fingers;
Three children fighting over a dead rat, with the thinnest and smallest one ultimately pushed to the ground, watching helplessly as his companions swallowed the rat raw;
An old man sitting in front of a shack, looking at the sky with cloudy eyes, his lips opening and closing silently as if praying, but with no expression on his face.
These images were compressed and encrypted in real time, then uploaded to the frontline base via the quantum communication channel.
Every frame of footage and every data point was crucial intelligence for future operations, as well as ironclad evidence when the Empire judged those gods.
"Keep moving." Leon's voice was frighteningly calm. "We need to get closer to the core area."
Like two silent shadows, the two infiltrated the interior of the city along the edges of the slums.
The stealth systems of their nano combat suits allowed them to perfectly blend into the environment. As they went deeper, the environment began to become active, but in a nauseating way.
On a relatively wide main road, they witnessed those creatures from Egyptian mythology at close range for the first time.
It was a patrolling squad of the Kin of Anubis.
Five humanoid creatures with jackal heads walking upright, wearing leather armor studded with bronze plates, holding scimitars with black bloodstains still remaining on the blades.
Their eyes flickered with a faint green light under the late-night moonlight, and their nostrils flared continuously, seemingly sniffing the scents in the air.
And surrounding them were a large number of human civilians kneeling prostrate on the ground.
These people pressed their foreheads tightly against the ground, their bodies trembling slightly from fear, but no one dared to look up, let alone run away.
One jackal-headed creature seemed bored and casually used the tip of its blade to lift the chin of a kneeling person, who was an emaciated middle-aged man.
"You." The jackal-headed creature's voice was rough and piercing. "What did you contribute today?"
The man trembled as he took a dirty cloth bundle from his chest, which contained a few pieces of blackened bread and a rusty metal button.
"This is all, all I have..."
"Hahaha!"
The jackal-headed creature took a glance and suddenly let out a piercing laugh.
It slapped the cloth bundle away, the tip of its long blade pressing against the man's throat.
"Trash, your meat can at least feed a scorpion."
Just at the moment it prepared to slit the man's throat, a burst of drumbeats came from afar.
"Heh."
The jackal-headed creature stopped its movements, listened carefully for a moment, and snorted disdainfully. "Consider yourself lucky. The sacrificial ceremony is about to begin. I don't have time to deal with garbage like you."
It sheathed its long blade, kicked the man to the ground with its foot, and led the patrol squad to continue moving forward.
Yet that man who had narrowly escaped death actually crawled on the ground, kowtowing toward the direction the jackal-headed creatures left, murmuring "Thank the gods for their grace" in his mouth.
This scene was fully recorded by the camera on Leon's helmet.
"They have a clear hierarchy and social division of labor." Mike said in a low voice, full of suppressed anger. "These lower-tier kin are responsible for grass-roots security and tribute collection. Their behavior is relatively arbitrary, but clearly, they are restricted by higher-tier existences. The drumbeats just now should be some kind of assembly signal."
"Record behavioral patterns, analyze weaknesses."
Leon's response was concise and professional, but his hands tightened their grip on the pulse rifle.
They continued to move deeper into the city.
The closer they got to the Nile River, the more intact the buildings became, but that intactness actually appeared even more bizarre.
Many late-twentieth-century apartment buildings were modified beyond recognition—
Balconies were expanded into hanging cages, with humans imprisoned inside;
Windows were sealed with bricks and stones, leaving only narrow observation holes;
Primitive watchtowers were erected on the roofs, upon which stood guards wielding bows and arrows.
And on the streets, the density of mythological creatures was also increasing.
They saw things with crocodile heads carrying turtle shells on their backs. These creatures were massive in size and slow in movement, but seemed to possess astonishing strength, supervising a group of human slaves hauling giant stone blocks day and night without stopping.
They also saw half-human, half-scorpion guys using the venom on their tail stingers to draw twisted runes on the walls. Every time one rune was completed, they would randomly grab a passing human and carve the same pattern onto their body with the poisonous stinger; the victim would convulse and die in extreme agony.
They also saw record officers with ibis heads wearing white robes, holding papyrus scrolls and quill pens, recording the amount of tributes handed in by each neighborhood, and calculating how much material was needed for the next large-scale sacrifice.
All these creatures shared the exact same attitude toward humans, treating them like worthless grass to be disposed of at will.
Human lives here were not lives, but resources, tributes, tools for entertainment, and fuel to keep this twisted theocratic system running.
And humans themselves seemed to have completely accepted this positioning.
Leon captured a detail:
At a crossroads, a human child roughly five or six years old, skinny down to his skin and bones, stole a rotten fruit from a stall due to hunger.
The stall owner was a similarly frail human male, but he did not blame the child. Instead, he looked around in terror, and after confirming no mythological creatures were present, he quickly pushed the child into an alley, urging in a low voice, "Run! Don't let them see you!"
But when two jackal-headed patrollers actually appeared, the stall owner did not hesitate to point out the direction the child had fled.
The child was caught, and in front of dozens of spectating humans, the jackal-headed creatures tore the child in half alive, spilling internal organs and fresh blood all over the ground.
And that stall owner... that
informer knelt on the ground, kowtowing and thanking the jackal-headed creatures as if he had done a righteous deed worthy of a reward.
"Thorough mental enslavement."
Mike's voice trembled, this time not out of anger, but from a deeper layer of chill. "This is not simple fear; this is a complete distortion at the level of faith. They truly believe that serving the gods, even if it means turning in their own compatriots, is correct and holy."
Leon remained silent for a longer time.
"Continue the mission."
Ultimately, he only said these three words.
After crossing the slums, they arrived at the edge of the noble district.
Here lay an obvious dividing line.
On one side were the filthy and chaotic slum shacks, and on the other were clean and tidy brick and stone streets.
The dividing line was not a wall, but an artificial canal about ten meters wide. The canal water was relatively clear, and both banks were planted with neatly trimmed palm trees and bizarre, fluorescent flowers.
Several stone bridges were erected over the canal, and at the head of each bridge stood human soldiers wearing fine leather armor and wielding spears on guard.
Although these soldiers were also human, their nutritional status was obviously much better, their eyes were sharp, and they were fully equipped.
"Check IDs!"
A guard captain stopped a group of merchant-looking people who wanted to cross the bridge.
The merchant leader quickly pulled out a bronze plaque carved with the Eye of Horus. After inspecting it carefully, the guard waved his hand to let them pass.
"There is strict traffic control here." Leon whispered. "The noble district and the slums are two completely isolated worlds."
They chose a relatively concealed section of the river and silently slid into the canal.
Underwater visibility was low, and the bottom of the canal was piled with silt and debris.
They swam underwater at minimum speed for about fifty meters and quietly surfaced at a bank with dense aquatic plants.
This was located in the back garden of a noble's mansion. There was no one in the garden; only a few birds with brightly colored feathers resting in the trees.
Climbing over the low stone wall, the two officially stepped into Cairo's upper-middle-class society.
If the slums were hell, then the noble district was a twisted and extravagant paradise... built on bones and blood.
The streets here were paved with neatly cut stone slabs, flanked by two- to three-story mansions with an architectural style that mixed ancient Egyptian elements with modern design.
Exquisite reliefs were carved onto the colonnades, but their contents were mostly bloody sacrificial scenes;
The windows were inlaid with stained glass patterned with various mythological creatures devouring humans;
There were fountains in the courtyards, but the sculptures in the centers of the fountains were often figures of sub-gods committing acts of violence.
The nobles walking on the streets wore robes made of fine linen and silk, wearing gold and gemstone jewelry, looking ruddy and plump.
They laughed and chatted, discussing the latest divine gifts, which family's slaves were more obedient, or what novel tributes to offer at the next sacrificial ceremony.
Servants and slaves kept their heads down, carefully attending by their sides; the slightest carelessness would incur whipping or even more cruel punishments.
What was even more uncomfortable was the attitude these nobles held toward the mythological creatures.
In the open courtyard of a mansion, Leon and Mike witnessed a banquet.
A long dining table was placed in the center of the courtyard, piled high with roasted meat, fruits, honey pastries, and wine.
Besides human nobles, three sub-god species also participated in the banquet.
"Great Bastet, Goddess of Joy and Dance, please accept our humble offerings."
An obese human noble raised a golden cup high, toasting to the lion-headed sub-god.
The lion-headed sub-god leaned lazily against the soft cushions, reached out a claw to grab a whole roasted sheep, and stuffed it into its mouth, chewing bones and meat together as blood and grease dripped down its chin.
Another noble knelt at the feet of the eagle-headed sub-god, offering an exquisite wooden box.
The eagle-headed sub-god opened the box; inside was a complete set of lifelike human suffering scenes carved from ivory.
"Interesting." It commented with a sharp voice. "During the next sacrifice, we can try to authentically recreate this posture."
Meanwhile, the hippopotamus-headed sub-god seemed more interested in entertainment.
It clapped its hands to summon a group of dancers, all young human women with revealing clothes and numb eyes.
Along with the bizarre music, the dancers began to twist and move their bodies, and the hippo-headed sub-god would grab one from time to time to violate her in public. The other nobles applauded and cheered, as if enjoying some spectacular performance.
Leon and Mike lurked in the shadows outside the courtyard, recording all of this.
The safeties on their pulse rifles were already off, their fingers resting on the triggers, but they forced themselves to remain calm.
However, the following scene nearly broke the bottom line of what the two could endure while maintaining their professionalism.
Halfway through the banquet, a middle-aged noble dressed particularly gorgeously led a boy of about ten years old to the front of the eagle-headed sub-god.
The boy was delicate and clean, wearing a silk robe and obviously meticulously dressed up, but his small face was full of fear, and his body trembled continuously.
"Honorable Messenger of the Gods." The noble knelt on one knee and pushed the boy forward slightly. "This is my youngest son, pure, flawless, and undefiled. Since childhood, he has admired your majesty and longed to serve by your side. I implore you to accept him as a symbol of our family's loyalty."
The eagle-headed sub-god rolled its crimson eyes, sizing the boy up and down.
It extended a claw covered in bronze-colored feathers, pinched the boy's chin, and forced him to look up.
"His eyes are very beautiful." The sub-god's voice carried a kind of hair-raising appreciation. "His skin is also very smooth. Not bad, I am very satisfied."
A smile of ecstasy immediately bloomed on the noble's face, as if he had received a massive blessing.
"Thank you! Thank you for your favor! This is his honor, and the supreme glory of our family!"
He roughly pushed the boy toward the sub-god.
The boy finally cried out, reaching out to grab his father's clothes, but the noble shook off his hand without hesitation.
The eagle-headed sub-god let out a sharp laugh, grabbed the boy, and like tucking a toy under its arm, turned and walked toward a bedroom deep within the mansion.
The door closed.
At first there was silence, and then the boy's terrified cries, "Father! Father, save me!", "Ahhh!"
O
The crying quickly turned into heart-wrenching screams, mixed with the sound of tearing fabric and the crisp cracks of breaking bones.
Those screams lasted for a full three minutes, gradually weakening from a high pitch, eventually turning into intermittent, dying whimpers.
The banquet in the courtyard was still continuing.
The nobles exchanged cups and chatted cheerfully, as if nothing had happened.
The noble who had offered his son was toasting other guests with a face full of smiles, accepting compliments like "Congratulations" and "Glory."
Not long after, the bedroom door opened.
Two human attendants with vacant eyes walked out, carrying a corpse.
It was the boy from earlier, but he was already mangled beyond recognition, a bloody mess that barely resembled his original shape.
His chest was caved in, ribs piercing through his skin. His head tilted at a bizarre angle, with a noticeable sunken piece in his skull. His entire body was covered in scratch marks and bite marks, some wounds so deep that bone could be seen.
The attendants tossed the corpse at the noble's feet like throwing away garbage.
"The master is very satisfied." One of the attendants said coldly. "You are rewarded with ten young slaves; send them to the temple next month."
The noble actually knelt down and kowtowed to the attendants: "Thank the gods for their grace! Thank the gods for their grace!"
The noble picked up his son's corpse, showing no trace of sorrow on his face, only a near-manic joy. "What great glory this is! What great fortune!"
He even kissed the already coagulated bloodstain on the corpse's forehead, then turned to instruct the butler: "Process the young master's remains properly. Turn the bones into amulets. Remember, every part must be fully utilized; the grace bestowed by the gods cannot be wasted."
Mike, lurking in the shadows, breathed heavily. Leon could even hear the sound of his good friend gritting his teeth through the internal channel, and could feel that the agent, who was also a father, was currently surging with inner
rage that was almost breaking through his reason.
Leon's own state was not much better.
He thought of his daughter Lynn, of those clear blue eyes, and of her lazily watching TV on the sofa at home.
If...
If Lynn encountered the same thing...
"Calm down." His voice rang out in the channel, as cold as a blade, speaking both to Mike and to himself. "These scumbags will get what's coming to them later. Stay calm, brother."
Saying that, he brought up the manual injection option for psychological stabilizers and injected both himself and Mike with a dose of specialized sedatives.
The drugs took effect quickly, forcefully suppressing their boiling killing intent and emotional fluctuations, returning their minds to a cold, professional state.
But some things, once ignited, could never be completely extinguished.
They watched as that noble carried his son's corpse, leaving the courtyard like holding a holy relic;
Watched as the banquet continued, with the nobles discussing what to offer for the next tribute;
Watched as those sub-god species, fully fed and drunk, walked toward different rooms embracing human dancers and attendants.
All the footage, all the sounds, and all the data were completely recorded, encrypted, and uploaded.
In the command center of the frontline base, the technical officers responsible for receiving the intelligence collectively fell into a deathly silence when they saw this footage.
Someone smashed the data pad in their hands, someone rushed into the restroom to vomit, and someone sat blankly in front of the screen, tears sliding down silently.
However, Leon and Mike did not know about this for the time being.
They only knew that they had to keep moving forward, had to delve into the core, and had to gather enough intelligence to let the Empire's troops know exactly what methods and how much force should be used to completely incinerate every inch of sin on this land.
The two left that mansion, continuing their stealth advance along the streets of the noble district, toward the city center, and toward that modified pyramid.
The pyramid in the distance was like a massive, dark tombstone, standing on land irrigated by countless bones and blood...
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.