Chapter 73: Dominance on the Battlefield

‘Rat-tat-tat—’ The ordinary rifle bullets fired in a dense barrage from all directions bounced harmlessly off the Venom battle suit as if made of rubber, utterly ineffective against Kyle. The firepower merely forced him half a step back, failing to injure him in the slightest.

In truth, even if some rounds had extreme penetrating power and managed to pierce the suit’s tough protective layer, beneath it lay the dense, resilient muscles of a super soldier. Sniper bullets might barely reach the muscle beneath the surface, but that was all; with his self-healing factor working rapidly, unless several shots struck the exact same spot in quick succession and pierced directly through a vital organ, there was no real threat to his life.

With this triple-layered defense, Kyle moved across the battlefield with absolute confidence. Heavy artillery strikes were too slow, and ordinary gunfire too weak.

‘Clink, clink…’

As a burst of gunfire from the German troops fell silent, countless metal bullets dropped from Kyle’s Venom suit, rolling crisply off the top of the tank and scattering onto the ground.

Kyle raised his head impassively, looking down at the soldiers behind the tank. With the Venom battle suit fully enclosing him, he stood atop the tank like a humanoid demon. The iron and blood aura of his wild, slaughterous appearance made countless German soldiers, fumbling to reload, retreat in terror.

“Is he even human, or some immortal monster?!”

“It’s him! The American demon… He’s actually here.”

“We’re finished, truly finished. We’re all going to die here!”

Even with his face hidden beneath a black leather hood, the single-handed sword, black battle suit, death’s cross insignia, and major general’s rank, not to mention his monstrous strength—all these trademarks made the enemy’s identity unmistakable.

Kyle of the United States! The executioner demon spoken of in rumors, now standing before them in the flesh.

Fear spread like contagion, infecting every soldier’s heart in a flash; countless young German conscripts, guns trembling in their hands, collapsed to the ground.

This was the overwhelming power of a war hero: wherever he appeared, the battlefield bent to his will.

A brown-bearded German officer raised his arm among the troops, rallying his men with a commanding shout: “No matter who he is! Hold your weapons tight! Behind us lies our homeland, we must—”

His impassioned speech was cut short as a blue laser flashed across dozens of meters, landing precisely on his forehead. In an instant, the energy beam vaporized his entire head, leaving a headless corpse that sprayed blood as it toppled backward.

“You were getting on my nerves,” Kyle sneered, holstering his energy pistol.

Manufactured by Hydra, these high-tech weapons had become rare limited editions since the energy factories were destroyed. Now, Kyle was the only one in the American military still equipped with one, utilizing it as a precise long-range weapon when needed.

After that single shot, some German recruits immediately broke down and fled, while others, despite wanting to keep fighting, found their ranks thrown into chaos by the panic of their comrades.

Kyle was about to take advantage of the confusion to eliminate the tanks when he saw a figure in a jacket charge recklessly into the crowd of soldiers, swinging wolf-like claws in a brutal assault. With every step, several soldiers fell screaming, blood splattering the ground.

“Logan?” Kyle frowned at the figure, but he quickly understood why Logan had charged into the midst of the Germans.

Logan was tearing a bloody path through the soldiers, wild yet purposeful, heading deeper into enemy lines.

When he reached the center of the troops, a soldier at the rear—wearing a steel helmet—suddenly ducked and then stood, revealing a tall, burly frame. With a powerful shove, he forced his comrades aside and quickly retreated toward German territory in a desperate escape.

“Sabretooth. So cautious and sly, hiding all this time among the densest ranks,” Kyle chuckled, shaking his head.

Unfortunately for Sabretooth, after years of tangled enmity with Logan, even if he smeared himself with mud and buried himself underground, Logan would still find him, drawn by memory and an acute sense of smell, even if he had to tear up the entire battlefield.

“With the target in sight, things just got a lot easier.” Kyle smiled coolly, not bothering to chase after the two with their private vendetta.

He leapt onto another tank, gripping his sodium-carbon steel sword in his left hand, and swiftly decapitated a German soldier who had poked his head out to survey the situation.

The soldier’s head, helmet and all, flew high into the air before he could even scream, and the blood that followed sent terror through the men inside the tank.

Kyle didn’t bother to storm the interior. With brutal efficiency, he tossed a grenade inside, and after the explosion, all was silent.

‘Rat-tat-tat!’

Bullets whizzed harmlessly against the Venom suit, merely delaying Kyle’s systematic destruction of the tank battalion.

He didn’t spare a glance for the soldiers outside, indifferent to their despair. His focus was solely on destroying, one by one, the steel tanks that posed the greatest threat to the Allied forces.

“Thirteenth one,” he murmured coldly, destroying another tank at his feet. Just then, the sound of countless military boots approached from behind.

Kyle looked up. In the ruined, shell-blasted wasteland half a mile away, wave upon wave of Allied soldiers surged forward, shouting slogans as they charged.

“Forward! Break through the German border and take down the wicked Hitler in one blow!”

“Keep pace with Major General Kyle! Victory is within sight!”

“For victory! For Major General Kyle!”

Among the thousands of Allied soldiers, Kyle instantly spotted a familiar black officer—his bald head gleaming in the sunlight as he waved energetically.

“Fury. The Allies are truly slow to arrive,” Kyle remarked, shaking his head. He had already destroyed part of the tank battalion.

At the same time, seeing the Allied assault begin, he knew the German defensive line wouldn’t last another ten minutes.

It was like a breach in a dam; soon the floodwaters would demolish the entire structure, inundating everything below.

With the main tank force destroyed, nothing would impede the Allies—they would sweep powerfully into Berlin itself.

“Germany’s defeat is sealed,” Kyle whispered, turning toward the vast German heartland, already seeing the end of this great battle unfold.