In the valley.
Rose felt his lungs burning.
Every breath was like swallowing a scorching coal, the AN/PRC-163 tactical radio on his back felt like a red-hot iron, rubbing against his sweat-soaked tactical vest.
A piercing pain came from his right leg—a 7.62mm bullet had passed through it a few seconds ago, taking away a fist-sized chunk of flesh.
"Ten meters... to go..."
He clenched his teeth, dragging his injured leg forward with difficulty over the pile of rubble.
Bullets kept whizzing past him, sparking off the rocks.
He knew clearly that he had become the top priority target for the "Musician" defense mercenaries.
A bullet suddenly hit his left shoulder, causing Rose to stagger, but miraculously he didn't fall.
He looked down at his wound, fresh blood was gushing out from the edge of the bullet-proof plate. This piece of ceramic armor had already stopped at least three bullets, but now, like himself, it was at its limit.
"Rose! Hurry!"
