Chapter 2117 - 861: Encirclement

He paused.

"Tell Moscow to get ready."

The other side was stunned.

"Ready for what?"

The boss stood up and walked to the window.

"Ready to close the net."

5 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple."

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

Bramo pushed the door open and came in.

"The fleet will arrive in thirteen hours."

Victor nodded.

"What about the Squid Men?"

Bramo opened the folder.

"On the northern line, the Syrian Army has reached the outskirts of Tiberias City. On the southern line, the Egyptians are besieging Arish. In Gaza, the 84th Infantry Brigade has been wiped out. In Lebanon, the Milk Tea Shop is pushing south."

Victor was silent for three seconds.

Then he asked:

"What about Shamir?"

Bramo was taken aback for a moment.

"He's still in Tel Aviv. He's reportedly been awake for twenty-four hours."

Victor nodded.

"Give him a call."

Bramo was stunned.

"Call him? Isn't he—"

"Call him," Victor repeated, "Tell him the fleet will arrive in thirteen hours. Tell him that if his people are still fighting in those thirteen hours, Mexico is a friend of the Squid."

Bramo looked at him.

"That means—"

"Means what?" Victor turned around, "Means telling that 'Principal' that the show isn't over yet."

5:30 PM, outskirts of Tiberias City.

Brigadier General Hassan's 5th Division had reached the edge of Tiberias City.

In front was the Jewish Holy City.

Two thousand years.

Finally about to take it back.

He stood on the tank, looking at the city glowing gold in the sunset.

"Pass the order," he said, "Attack the city tonight. Before dawn, I want to be standing inside Tiberias City."

The staff officer turned to pass the order.

Three hundred tanks started moving toward the city.

At this moment, artillery fire suddenly erupted from the city.

It wasn't Syrian artillery.

It was Squid artillery.

The last few Merkava tanks charged out from the city.

There were only five of them.

Five against three hundred.

Hassan was stunned.

"Are they crazy?" ℯ

Five Merkavas charged into the formation of three hundred T-72s like five suicidal shooting stars.

When the first one was blown up, it had knocked over a T-72.

When the second was blown up, it had toppled two T-80s.

The third, fourth, and fifth—

When the last Merkava turned into a fireball in the explosion, it was less than a hundred meters from Hassan.

Hassan stood on his tank, watching the fireball.

Inside the fireball, a humanoid figure burnt to charcoal still maintained a standing posture.

He was silent for three seconds.

Then he ordered:

"Attack the city."

6 PM, Tiberias City.

Street fighting began.

The remnants pulled back from the Golan Heights, the reserves conscripted from Galilee, the wounded who ran out of the hospitals—they held guns, hid behind every window, guarded every alley, waiting for the Syrians.

The first Syrian soldier to rush into the city was shot by three bullets simultaneously.

He fell, and those behind him continued to charge.

The alley was narrow, allowing only two people to walk side by side. Tanks couldn't enter, leaving it to the infantry.

The Syrians surged forward in waves.

The Squid Men returned fire wave after wave.

Every house was fought over, every alley left with the dead.

A veteran Squid Man, fifty-three years old, had fought in 1973. He held the rooftop of a three-story building, firing an old M14, shot by shot.

He fired seventeen bullets, killing seventeen Syrians.

After firing the eighteenth bullet, a Syrian soldier rushed up the rooftop and stabbed him in the stomach with a bayonet.

The veteran fell, eyes open, looking at the Syrian soldier.

The Syrian soldier also looked at him.

Neither spoke.

Three seconds later, the veteran's hand moved slightly.

He was clutching a hand grenade.

The pin had been pulled.

Boom—

The entire floor collapsed.

7 PM, Arish City.

The Egyptian 4th Division finally entered the city.

Major General Shafeek stood on a tank, watching the soldiers in the middle of street fighting.

Fighting continued in the city.

The Squid Men hadn't run.

They hid in every building, every alley, waiting for the Egyptians.

An Egyptian soldier just turned a corner and was shot in the head. Another soldier rushed into a building and was blown away by three hand grenades.

Shafeek's face looked grim.

"Tell the brothers," he said, "push inch by inch. If you can't push, level it with explosives."

The tanks began shelling the houses still resisting.

One by one, they collapsed into rubble.

But guns continued to fire from the rubble.

8 PM, Tel Aviv, Squid Defense Army Headquarters.

Moses watched those dwindling light points, each fighting.

The communication officer ran over.

"General, a call from the Prime Minister."

Moses picked up.

A raspy and barely audible Shamir's voice came over the line.

"Moses, how many troops are still fighting?"

Moses was silent for three seconds.

"Golan Heights, three companies left. Gaza, none. Sinai, two battalions left. Lebanon, five outposts left."

Shamir also fell silent.

Three seconds later, he said:

"Have them keep fighting."

The call ended.

Moses looked up at the flickering light points on the screen.

He knew that each of these light points would eventually be extinguished.

But before extinguishing, each would make the enemy pay a price.

9 PM, outskirts of Moscow, that villa.

The boss sat in that large chair, holding a glass of vodka.

The phone rang.

He picked it up.

"Boss, Tiberias is about to be taken. Arish is about to be taken. The Milk Tea Shop has already pushed to within ten kilometers of Tiberias."