Chapter 2118 - 861: Encirclement

The boss nodded.

"What about the Mexican Fleet?"

"Eight hours left."

The boss smiled.

A light smile.

"Tell the Syrians, after taking Tiberias, let the Chechens enter the city. Tell the Egyptians, after taking Arish, don't stop, keep pushing north. Tell the Milk Tea Shop—"

He paused.

"Tell them, before dawn, I want to see fire in Tiberias City."

10 PM, Tiberias City.

Street combat lasted four hours.

Half of the houses in the city collapsed, half of the streets piled with corpses. At least three thousand Syrians died, Squid People — those remnants withdrawn from the Golan Heights, reserves summoned from Galilee, wounded escaping from hospitals — were almost all dead.

Brigadier General Hassan finally entered the city.

He stood in front of a half-collapsed building, looking at those Squid People still resisting.

About one hundred were left.

Surrounded in one block.

"Tell them," he said, "surrender. Surrender and you won't be killed."

The translator shouted in Hebrew once.

The block was silent for three seconds.

Then came the sound of a gunshot.

Not shooting at the Syrians.

Shooting at himself.

A soldier committed suicide.

Then the second. The third. The fourth.

One hundred soldiers, one hundred gunshots.

Not one surrendered.

Hassan stood there, looking at the silent block, his expression was complex.

The staff officer came over.

"Commander, we..."

Hassan lifted his hand, interrupted him.

"Bury them. Continue forward."

11 PM, Tel Aviv, Squid Defense Army Headquarters.

Moses stood in front of the control panel, staring at the screen.

On the screen, only a dozen dots were left.

Each dot represented a position still fighting.

Each position represented a group of soldiers still fighting.

The communications officer ran over.

"Chief, a call from the Prime Minister."

Moses picked up.

On the other side was Shamir's voice, light as if floating in the wind.

"Moses, how long until the Mexican Fleet arrives?"

Moses glanced at the screen.

"Six hours."

Shamir was silent for three seconds.

"Tell them, hold out for six more hours."

Moses was stunned.

"Hold out for what?"

Shamir's voice suddenly became firm.

"Hold out until the Mexicans arrive. Hold out until that man named Victor sees for himself, when his fleet arrives, the Squid People are not defeated."

The call ended.

Moses stood there, watching those dwindling, yet each fighting dots.

He knew, each of these dots would be extinguished.

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

Each would let that Mexican see—

Squid People are not so easy to kill.

12 AM, Tiberias city center.

Hassan stood in the center of the two-thousand-year-old ancient city, looking at the surrounding ruins.

The city had been taken.

But the cost was far greater than he imagined.

At least five thousand soldiers died in this city.

Those Chechens — Ramzan's remnants — were all dead. They charged at the front, died at the front.

The staff officer ran over.

"Commander, Squid People are still resisting. There are still dozens in the Eastern District."

Hassan nodded.

"Before dawn, I want no living enemies in this city."

1 AM, Arish city center.

Shafeek stood at the gate of the destroyed mosque, looking at the surrounding ruins.

The city had been taken.

But the cost — three thousand soldiers.

Those tank crews, infantry, artillery who fought all the way from the Sinai Peninsula, at least one-third died in this city.

The staff officer ran over.

"Brigade Commander, Squid People are still fighting. There are still a few bunkers in the North District."

Shafeek nodded.

"Before dawn, I want no living Squid People on this land."

2 AM, Tel Aviv, Squid Defense Army Headquarters.

Moses watched the screen.

On the screen, only five dots were left.

Golan Heights, two left. Sinai Peninsula, two left. Lebanon border, one left.

Each dot represented a position still fighting.

Each position represented a group of soldiers still fighting.

The communications officer ran over.

"Chief, four hours until the Mexican Fleet arrives."

Moses nodded.

He said nothing.

He just watched those dots extinguish one by one.

3 AM, Golan Heights, the last position.

A nineteen-year-old soldier named Yossi hid in a trench, with his last hand grenade in front of him.

All his comrades were dead.

His gun was out of bullets.

His leg was cut by shrapnel, couldn't move.

But he's still alive.

In the distance, Syrian tanks were approaching.

He heard the sound of tracks crushing the ground, getting closer.

He tightened his grip on the hand grenade.

Thinking about his mom.

Thinking about his dad.

Thinking about the girl he hadn't had the chance to confess to.

The tank stopped above him.

A Syrian soldier jumped down, pointed the gun at him.

"Surrender. Surrender and you won't be killed."

Yossi looked at him.

Then he smiled.

Smiled lightly.

He pulled the pin on the hand grenade.

Boom—

The trench collapsed.

The tank burned.

The Syrian soldier, and him, were blown to pieces.

4 AM, Tel Aviv, Squid Defense Army Headquarters.

Moses watched the screen.

On the screen, the last point extinguished.

Golan Heights, gone. Sinai Peninsula, gone. Gaza Strip, gone. Lebanon border, gone.

All positions, all gone.

All soldiers, all dead.

He stood there, looking at the blank screen, no expression on his face.

The communications officer ran over.

"Chief, two hours until the Mexican Fleet arrives."

Moses turned around.

He looked at those staff officers, military officers, technicians standing at their posts.

"Pass the order." He said, "Navy prepare. Air Force prepare. All units that can still move, prepare."

He paused.

"When the Mexicans come, tell them—"

"Tell them, the Squid are not defeated yet."