Upon hearing Swagger's warning, Owen moved to the window and took a look. From his side of the cabin, people were closing in from two directions.
Their movement was cautious but precise, maintaining an offensive formation—the kind of textbook approach only professionals like soldiers or mercenaries would use.
Judging from their posture, it was clear they already knew the target was inside the cabin. What they didn't realize was that the person inside was Owen—and that their real target, Swagger, was hiding somewhere outside. They had probably just passed right by him moments ago.
In fact, Owen's guess was nearly spot-on. A few mercenaries had passed just over a meter away from Swagger without noticing him at all.
Owen stepped back from the window and looked around the room. He couldn't help but whistle.
This room clearly served as Sokolov's personal armory. In addition to the freshly assembled M200 sniper rifle on the table, the surrounding display racks held a host of valuable items.
Most of the guns—particularly the sniper rifles—weren't useful to Owen at the moment. But other items, like grenades, were just what he needed. In one cabinet, he even found the ultimate toy: two M18A1 Claymore anti-personnel mines—the nightmare of infantry.
Owen holstered his P226, grabbed the two Claymores, and bolted downstairs. Luckily, the enemy hadn't rushed in yet, giving him time to reconfigure his defenses.
Time was tight, so he didn't bother with intricate setups. He simply placed one Claymore at the front door, and one at the back, both positioned just inside and partially covered by rug edges—just enough to hide the body while exposing the infrared sensor.
The sensor beams pointed directly toward the doorways—if anyone burst through from outside, boom. It wasn't the most efficient kill-zone setup, but it would serve as a powerful deterrent, making them think twice about storming in.
That's why Owen had been so thrilled to find them. The M18A1 Claymore offered various trigger options: infrared, vibration, tripwire, even remote detonation.
With the first floor prepped, Owen rushed back upstairs, grabbed a few extra grenades, and returned to the ground floor.
Clink, clink~~
No time to relax—the enemy had made their move. Just as Owen got back downstairs, he heard glass shatter. Standard procedure—stun grenades were incoming.
Owen immediately ducked, covered his ears, and shut his eyes.
Two muffled booms followed. Thanks to his position, the concussive blasts didn't affect him much.
BANG! The back door was kicked open. Before the intruders could enter, Owen was already waiting at the threshold and opened fire—two clean shots.
The first man dropped before he even stepped inside. But the ones behind him didn't panic—they fired back immediately, forcing Owen to retreat behind cover.
No doubt about it—these guys were seasoned veterans. No rookie could react that fast.
Owen gave up on holding the back door and sprinted across the hallway to check the situation at the front.
…
On the hillside, Swagger held his breath and squeezed the trigger. The rifle jolted slightly as a 7mm Remington Magnum round burst from the muzzle and exploded the target's head.
The Remington 700 he was using was a civilian ADL model from the gun store—not the military version he was used to—but it would do.
That shot disrupted the mercenaries' approach from the front, preventing a coordinated breach with the rear assault.
The mercs reacted fast. As soon as they realized they were under sniper fire, they turned and sprayed in Swagger's general direction while diving into the cabin for cover.
Out in the open, they would've been sitting ducks.
But as they kicked the door open and rushed in, they ran straight into Owen's line of fire. He didn't even need to slow time—just controlled his aim and opened up at the entrance.
Two men went down immediately, though their body armor kept them alive for the moment. Before Owen could follow up, the hail of bullets forced him back into cover.
"One… two…"
Before Owen could even say "three," a deafening blast shook the cabin.
Someone had tripped the Claymore's infrared sensor. The trigger completed its circuit in milliseconds, igniting the C4 explosive inside. The fiberglass body stamped with "FRONT TOWARD ENEMY" shattered, releasing 700 steel balls in a 60-degree fan-shaped spread.
The room erupted with chaotic crackles and screams.
The Claymore's kill height reached up to two meters, and its effective radius extended to 250 meters. In such a confined space, the devastation was unimaginable.
The room was instantly filled with tiny steel projectiles. Of the seven mercs who rushed in, two were killed instantly—torn apart by the blast. The rest were severely wounded.
Owen took one look and marveled at the carnage. Truly a weapon of mass destruction. Not only were the intruders shredded, but the entire room was wrecked. The walls were riddled with holes, each made by a steel ball.
Thinking of those rounds tearing into flesh made Owen shiver.
On the floor, the mercs writhed in pain. Some had lost limbs, others had been blinded. Their uniforms bore no insignias, and their appearances varied—Europeans, South Americans, and Asians.
Bang bang. Bang bang. Bang bang~~~
Owen fired carefully but without hesitation. He figured he was doing them a kindness.
BOOM~~
The Claymore at the back door detonated next.
But almost immediately, gunfire rang out from the smoke. Either the blast wasn't fatal, or they'd spotted the mine and triggered it deliberately.
While the smoke was still thick, Owen tossed a grenade into the fog. It rolled, clanked, and vanished. A moment later—BOOM.
Owen didn't wait to assess the damage. He never expected to wipe out the whole team with traps alone. He dashed up to the second floor.
"Swagger, status?"
"Got three down… uh, four now… and listen—here's the fifth—oh, shit…"
Swagger's voice was casual. Every time Owen heard a shot, a count, and the sound of a bolt being worked, he knew another enemy had just been sent to hell.
But that last "Shit" wasn't part of the usual rhythm.
"You okay? What happened?"
There was silence on the line. Just when Owen thought something had happened to him, Swagger's voice returned.
"I can't cover you right now. They've got a sniper."
"Okay. Be careful."
Owen wasn't too worried. In a sniper duel, Swagger was one of the best—an elite marksman according to NSA statistics.
If Swagger couldn't handle it, then no one could.
…
Northern slope.
Through her scope, Janet had finally located Swagger. His camouflage had been flawless—she had scanned that spot several times, always thinking it was a decaying tree trunk.
She had entered at the perfect moment—after Swagger had scanned and cleared the area. His attention had been on the cabin sentries, giving her a narrow window to move in unnoticed.
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