Chapter Sixty-Four: The Forms of the Venom Suit

The French Golden Coast, one of the five principal beaches targeted for conquest. The sand here is remarkably fine, so that in the sunlight it gleams like gold, and together with the coconut trees lining the shore, it forms a picturesque destination for leisure and tourism.

At this hour, the sun is sinking below the horizon, leaving only a faint glow of crimson clouds as a reminder of the coming long night.

Along the coastline, countless sandbags have been piled a hundred meters inland to form a fortified line, where tens of thousands of German soldiers, helmeted in steel, stand guard, revealing only their heavy machine guns to the outside.

All of them hold their breath in grim concentration, faces taut, no one speaking. The shore is silent, broken only by the sound of the wind and the waves crashing against the land.

It is the calm before the storm, tranquil but heavy with the threat of violence.

“Our armored divisions haven’t arrived from the rear yet?” a German officer of high rank asked quietly, turning to his communications aide.

The aide replied swiftly, “Report, the rear units say they are being bombarded by enemy aircraft from the Triple Alliance. Their movements are severely restricted and they cannot reach the coastal defense in time.”

“Those damned allied forces! Pass the word—hold the defensive line at all costs. Any enemy that lands on the beach is to be shot. No matter what, we must endure until the tanks arrive.”

He had barely finished his command when he saw the communications aide staring in stunned terror out toward the sea beyond the sandbags, his youthful face pale and fearful.

The officer instinctively raised his head to follow the gaze, and saw, in the gathering gloom over the water, the massive silhouettes of dozens of warships emerging, covering the entire visible sea. The lead battleship drove straight toward the beach, like a monstrous beast of steel.

“They’re here! They’re coming!”

A sharp click echoed as, all at once, the defensive line came alive with the sound of German soldiers loading their weapons, deep breaths drawn in anticipation.

The great amphibious assault was beginning.

First came the distant bombardment from the allied fleet. Battleships and warships aimed their guns at the shoreline, unleashing a deafening barrage that obliterated everything in its path.

With full firepower unleashed, the beach and sky were lit up in a blinding display.

The battleships anchored just offshore, followed by the surrounding warships, unable to move further because the water was too shallow ahead. But the purpose of deploying so many ships was not to destroy the enemy defenses directly—it was to transport soldiers and cover the massive invasion force landing on the beach.

As soon as the warships stopped, allied soldiers began to pour overboard, boarding hundreds of small boats that surged toward the shore in a mighty offensive.

No sooner had the first allied troops set foot on the Golden Coast than the German fortress machine guns whirred to life, transforming the beach into a deadly zone with a hail of bullets. The invading soldiers, forced to press forward with their bodies, stained the shore and the sea red with their blood.

The battle for the beachhead had begun, a war of attrition where human lives were spent like grains of sand.

“Where is Kyle?” Fury, standing on the battleship’s deck, glanced around and realized that, while he had ordered the troops to storm the beach, Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

“Fury.” A cold, steady voice sounded abruptly from the highest observation platform on the battleship.

Fury looked up, and saw Kyle, clad in black combat gear, standing tall at the platform’s edge.

“I leave command at the rear to you.”

With those words, Kyle leapt from the observation platform, fifty meters above the deck and nearly a hundred meters above the sea.

Under Fury’s astonished gaze, Kyle, plummeting from such a height, suddenly unfurled a pair of wings from the back of his black suit—wings like those of a demon. Instantly, his descent turned into a swift glide toward the beach.

Venom Suit, Wing Form.

This was a new ability unlocked through symbiosis with Blue Eagle, allowing Kyle to transform his suit’s shape. Unfortunately, Venom had not matured enough to enable flight, but gliding from high altitude was easy.

Kyle swooped down, soaring rapidly over the shallows and the bullet-swept beach, silently arriving ten meters above the German fortress line.

He gazed coldly at the densely packed enemy below, then canceled the wing form and dropped. While airborne, his left hand reached to his waist and hurled a piece of anti-magnetic alloy.

The moment it hit the ground, the gravity field doubled in intensity within a twenty-meter radius. German soldiers within its range stumbled and fell.

At that instant, Kyle landed, rolling on the soft sand to absorb the impact, sodium-carbon steel sword already in his left hand. Like a wild beast, he sprang to his feet and charged at the machine gun spitting blue fire.

With a single stroke, the gunner and his weapon were sliced cleanly in two.

“Enemy!” The Germans struggled to rise within the gravity field, raising their weapons, only to see Kyle, bathed in the blood of their comrades, charging toward them with a blood-stained sword.

Countless bullets struck Kyle’s Venom Suit, which was impervious to ordinary rounds, bouncing harmlessly off. Those that hit the vibranium arm guard on his right hand made no sound nor spark.

“Venom, full coverage,” Kyle murmured. Black threads of Venom quickly spread over his face and head, forming a ferocious, devilish black mask.

Now, Venom became a seamless suit, enveloping Kyle entirely, making him resemble a humanoid demon.

Full coverage was the true symbiotic form, allowing Kyle and Venom’s powers to merge without hindrance. Although his strength and speed were not greatly enhanced, his abilities became flawless and fluid.

Kyle usually avoided full coverage, knowing it made him cold and ruthless, devoid of any human compassion, inside and out. Yet, surrounded by enemy fire, only in this state could he reach the peak of his combat prowess.

Kyle let his right arm drop, bullets striking the fearsome mask head-on, as he rushed into the enemy ranks, sword slashing and sweeping, vibranium arm guard sending bodies flying, mercilessly harvesting the lives of struggling German soldiers.

In ten short seconds, dozens of well-equipped German soldiers lay dead in pools of blood within the gravity field’s range.

The sticky crimson blood stained his black suit dark red, and Kyle pressed forward, treading over the corpses, unleashing an endless, frenzied slaughter.