Chapter 1801 - 1375: Toxic Fog Encircles the City (2)

Another person was frantically tearing at his own clothes; the gas contacting the skin would cause a burning sensation, then blistering, and finally, ulceration.

Those soldiers exposed skin already had dense patches of red spots.

Zakavi's breathing quickened.

His thumb remained pressed on the remote control, maintaining the pressure.

According to design, this position needed to be held for ten seconds to ensure all detonation signals were sent.

Five, six, seven…

More explosions occurred throughout the city.

This time not to release gas, but to create chaos, block roads, and generate airflow.

Pre-set explosives at major intersections and under bridges were detonated, ruins blocking retreat routes; explosives set on rooftops created upward shockwaves to disturb air currents, allowing the gas to diffuse better.

Eight, nine, ten.

Zakavi released his thumb.

The red indicator light on the remote flickered three times, then went out.

He put down the binoculars, leaned against the wall by the window, and gazed outside.

Outside, the yellow smoke had formed a continuous sheet.

The city lay blanketed under a massive ochre yellow cover, which kept expanding, slowly enveloping the entire central area.

In some regions, the smoke was so dense that the streets could not be seen, only a rolling, sickly yellow.

From afar, sporadic, chaotic gunfire could be heard occasionally.

Those were soldiers in despair blindly shooting, or soldiers in unbearable pain ending their suffering with their last bullet.

Zakavi took a deep breath, his face still expressionless, but his eyes remained fixed on the hell he had created outside.

This was his masterpiece. Three months of preparation, seventeen delivery points, over eight hundred kilograms of chemical agents.

Although mostly self-made and roughly processed, it was deadly enough.

He would turn this city into a tomb, making everyone who stepped inside pay the price.

He wanted the world to remember, that even before being extinguished, the fury of Organization 1515 could burn everything.

In the smoke, something was reflecting light.

Zakavi raised the binoculars and saw a drone.

It flew low, circling above the smoke, seemingly recording this disaster.

Zakavi raised the remote control towards the drone, making a toast gesture.

Then he laughed.

The smile was mad and radiant.

East front, outskirts of Old Town.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Samir ripped off the headset and roared into the radio, "Retreat! All units, retreat to the designated assembly points immediately!"

His voice cracked from excessive force.

Soldiers around who were setting up positions froze, looking at their commander in confusion.

"Sir, we just took this area—"

The deputy tried to argue.

"That's gas! Chemical weapons!" Samir pointed at the yellow smoke spreading in the distance: "Fool! Look at that color! Do you want to die here?"

The deputy finally saw the smoke.

He sniffed, the air indeed had a faint, sweet yet spicy smell, resembling a mix of garlic and rotten apples.

"Everyone get in the vehicles! Discard unnecessary equipment!"

Samir had already jumped into the command vehicle, picked up the radio.

"Wear gas masks if you have them, if not, cover your mouth and nose with wet cloths! Retreat quickly!"

The convoy started hastily.

But the streets were too narrow, too many vehicles, retreat quickly turned into chaotic congestion.

Samir stuck his head out the car window and saw the yellow plume had drifted past two blocks, surging this way.

"Don't wait! Those who can go, go first! Don't crowd to board!" He shouted to the soldiers outside the vehicle: "Advance by foot! Leave this area!"

Some soldiers abandoned their gear and started running.

But many more still tried to squeeze onto already overloaded vehicles.

Samir saw the rear of a truck crammed with at least thirty people, some could only hold onto the railing, with half their bodies hanging out.

Radio reports came from various units:

"Second Company blocked on Victory Street—"

"Third Company requesting support, we have injured immobile—"

"The smoke is coming! It's coming!"

Samir slammed the steering wheel.

He grabbed the radio, switched to the public channel: "Abu You! Abu You, do you copy? How's the situation up north?"

After a few seconds of static noise, Abu You's voice came, background full of violent coughing and engine roaring: "Those damned lunatics are releasing gas! We're evacuating…cough cough…the road's blocked…how's your side—"

The communication cut off before he finished.

Samir called several more times, no response.

He lowered the microphone, his face was grim.

The command vehicle finally broke through the congested section, onto the relatively open Main Street.

But Samir looked back, his heart sank.

At least a third of the vanguard troops who had entered the city were still trapped in the rear blocks.

And the yellow smoke had already engulfed those streets.

Northern front, Central Avenue.

Abu You floored the accelerator, the armored vehicle's engine let out a tortured wail.

Fifty meters ahead, a six-story building collapsed in the explosion, blocking the entire street tightly.

"Reverse! Reverse!" he shouted at the driver.

But it was too late.

In the rearview mirror, another building also collapsed, the dust raised mixed with yellow smoke.

They were trapped in a street less than a hundred meters long.