Chapter 2107 - 858: Unfinished Projects Are a Real Headache!_3

The Minister of Defense stood in front of him.

"Mr. President, the Chechens are about to be wiped out. Should we send the regular army up?"

Assad was silent for three seconds.

Then he shook his head.

"No."

The Minister of Defense was stunned.

"No?"

Assad stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the sky over Damascus was blue and quiet.

"Wait until they are almost dead, then we'll go up."

He turned around.

"Those people are Chechens. Not Arabs. No matter how many die, it won't hurt."

12:00 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple."

Victor stood by the window, looking at Paseo de la Reforma outside.

Bramo pushed the door open and entered.

"The Mediterranean Fleet has set off. Two destroyers, three frigates, one supply ship. Expected to arrive in the Eastern Mediterranean in forty-eight hours."

Victor nodded.

"Also, there's news from Squid. Shamir wants to have a phone call with you."

Victor was silent for three seconds.

"Don't answer."

Bramo was taken aback.

"Don't answer?"

"Don't answer," Victor repeated, "We'll talk to him once our fleet arrives."

...

4:00 PM, Golan Heights, third line of defense.

There were seventeen Chechens left.

Ramzan was dead. The leader, in his forties, with a full face of stubble, eyes like knives, died in the third wave of assault. A sniper bullet entered his right eye and exited the back of his head without a sound.

The remaining seventeen hid in a section of collapsed trench, exhausted and out of supplies.

A young man raised his head, looking at the Squid tanks in the distance.

"Can we... still charge?"

No one answered.

After a long time, a blood-stained man spoke.

"Charge for what? We're out of bullets."

The young man lowered his head.

"Then... what should we do?"

The blood-stained man looked at him.

"Wait to die."

The young man was silent for three seconds.

Then he stood up.

"I won't wait."

He crawled out of the trench, running towards the direction of the Squid.

After twenty meters, he was riddled by machine gun fire.

The remaining people looked at his body, no one spoke.

5:00 PM, Jerusalem, Prime Minister's office.

Shamir stood by the window, looking at the outline of Temple Mount in the distance.

The setting sun was falling, tinting the Golden Dome Mosque in blood red.

Moses stood behind him.

"Shamir, the Chechens have been wiped out."

Shamir did not turn around.

"How many are left?"

"Seventeen. Trapped in the trenches. Out of ammo and supplies."

Shamir was silent for three seconds.

Shamir asked, "Where's the Mexican fleet?"

"They've already passed Gibraltar. They'll be in the Eastern Mediterranean by tomorrow night."

Shamir closed his eyes.

"Tomorrow night..."

He opened his eyes.

"Tell the Navy to be ready. If the Mexicans dare approach our coastline—"

He paused.

"Attack."

6:00 PM, Cairo, Egyptian Ministry of Defense.

Foad II sat in the command center, watching the flashing screens.

One war report after another came in.

Sinai Peninsula, Egyptian Army had advanced twenty kilometers. The Squid hadn't resisted, continuing to retreat. But no one was happy. Because the losses to the air force were heavy, because the radar station was still not repaired, because no one knew what might happen tomorrow.

The Minister of Defense came over.

"Your Highness, the Iraqis are here."

Foad II was taken aback.

"Iraq?"

The Minister of Defense nodded.

"Faisal II announced that the Iraqi Army will enter Jordan to help the Jordanians resist the Squid invasion. Their air force has already taken off."

Foad II was silent for three seconds.

Then he laughed.

He laughed lightly, bitterly.

"Good. That's great. Everyone's coming to help."

He stood up, walked to the map.

"Then let them come."

8:00 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple."

Victor stood by the window, looking at the brightly lit Paseo de la Reforma outside.

Bramo pushed the door open and entered.

"Victor, the fleet is twenty-four hours away."

Victor nodded.

"Squid's side, Shamir called again."

Victor didn't speak.

"He said he's willing to talk. Willing to apologize. Willing to compensate. As long as we don't deploy the fleet."

Victor turned around.

"Tell him—"

He paused.

"Tell him it's too late."

He walked to his desk, picked up the report about the embassy.

Seven people. Ten-year-old children. Killed by Squid bombs.

He put the report down.

"The fleet continues forward. Once it reaches the Eastern Mediterranean, we'll talk to him."

He raised his head, looked at the lights outside the window.

"This war has just begun."

"History tells us, unfinished projects can be very troublesome!"