In the office, the atmosphere was depressingly silent. The phone on the desk kept ringing. The President stared at it with his eyes fixed on it, his body was still moving. Li Litian and several military representatives, standing beside him, took a secret glance at each other, but no one said anything.

The phone didn't seem to stop, just like a maliciously set up mind, stubbornly driving and repeating his mission. Finally, the President reached out and placed the receiver next to his ear. After more than ten seconds, he put it down again, but his face was even more gloomy than before.

"Everything out." Mr. President's tone was as cold as a piece of ice, and then he turned his head and glanced at Li Litian, "Mr. Li, you want to talk to you."

After everyone else in the room left, Mr. President lit a cigarette for himself. According to Li Litian's knowledge of the Mr. President from the news, he seemed to never smoke.

"Minister of Defense* called me just now and asked me to..." The President lowered his head and took a deep breath, "Be mentally prepared, and then let me prepare for a speech."

Li Litian didn't say anything because he didn't know why the president left him, why he said this to him, nor what he should say now, but Li Litian could still guess some of the "psychological preparation" he said.

At the beginning of the war, after learning about the scale and intention of the emperor's troops, Carmel's staff team analyzed that New York could not be defended, but they were still optimistic at the time, thinking that according to the pattern of the last war, no matter how difficult it was, they could still hold on for a few days. In that case, they could give Americans a psychological buffer time. But what surprised everyone was that the city had collapsed in just one afternoon and a few hours, and now they were facing the risk of "slaughtering the city".

The last battle was truly on the world. At that time, everyone thought it was a victory for the whole earth. This time it was only targeted at the United States, but the failure belonged to this country. The last victory was so easy and completely one-sided crushing. This time the failure was so heavy... Before the war began, many optimistic American parties even expanded the crematorium specially prepared for the enemy. Now, they had to start considering large-scale urban population evacuation nationwide.

Such a mental gap erupts in such a short period of time, I am afraid that no one will bear it for a moment.

The emperor sent more than 10 million troops this time. According to the emperor's pyramid-shaped ruling structure, the number of centurions in this war was at least more than 100,000, and 100,000 spell casters. The number of spell casters on the battlefield reached half of this number, no, even one tenth, even if there were only 10,000 people or 10,000 spell casters. Even if the more than 800,000 soldiers and civilians surrounded were all marathon long-distance running champions, even if the traffic conditions in New York were unobstructed, it would be difficult to escape from this hell city.

From this perspective, the so-called "breakout" plan organized by the US side is purely to fight for luck and fight to the death. The entire plan, whether it is theory or practice, has no chance of success at all. Li Litian even speculated in private that this is a "political show" led by the US government. After all, even if such a plan fails, it is better than doing nothing. After that, the government can completely deliver a series of passionate speeches on the "spirit" shown by people in this "breakout", thereby appropriately shifting the government's responsibilities.

Li Litian believes that the US government can definitely do well in this regard. Perhaps the President's staff is already drafting a speech. This incident may be a blessing in disguise to some extent. For example, during World War II, Pearl Harbor once made the American people unite, but... by looking at the President's current expression, you can understand that it is one thing, and acceptance is another thing. The former is rational, while the latter is sensory, and the world at the sensory level is often more real.

"Mr. Li, I heard that magic can make people see the world hundreds of kilometers away. Is that true?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"I want to ask you to do me a favor. It has nothing to do with the politics between the two countries, but only on the private level," Mr. President snatched the cigarette in his hand and looked at Li Litian and said, his eyes looked tired and heavy, "Is it okay to use magic to let me see the battlefield with my own eyes?"

...

Claire didn't know how long she had been running, nor did she know if she was in the city. Because of the smoke bomb, the visibility around her was very low. The dazzling flash bombs in the air looked like hazy street lights in the heavy rain. Many times when Claire looked up at them, she felt a different kind of beauty, but this idea could not last too long. Every time she lowered her head and saw the blood flowing under her feet, she felt the touch of the body constantly coming from her feet, and when she heard countless people around her screaming in horror, she realized that she was in hell.

"Remember, if I die, you can find a place to hide or pretend to be dead!" The father turned around and explained to her again. Claire was already breathless because of running and nervousness, but just nodded subconsciously.

The roar of a car came from behind him. Claire was pulled hard by his father and fell to the ground. When she raised her head, she saw a crowded truck disappearing in the smoke. She looked at where she was standing just now. A young man who could not dodge was holding his thighs and wailing in pain. His father went up and took a brief look, and without saying anything, he pulled Claire to continue running forward.

Claire's father was a doctor who served in the army. She knew that her father was not the one who refused to save her. She knew that now was not the time to save lives and heal the wounded.

Along the way, Claire saw many victims who were hit by the truck, as well as many inhuman corpses crushed by the wheels. A few dozen seconds later, she heard a loud crash in front of her. Not long after, at an intersection, she saw the truck parked on the side of the road, and the front of the truck crashed deeply into a cafe around the corner. The whole vehicle was dripping with blood, and all the crew members on it had become corpses.

No one cares, no one speaks, and no one even wants to spend more energy to turn their heads and watch. This scene reminds Claire of the scene on TV where African lions hunt antelope. When one of the antelope flocks was captured by the lion, his compatriots just ran faster with all their might.

Claire remembered that when she first ran away, the crowd was very dense and it was difficult to even move. However, in just a few dozen minutes, her surroundings were already sparse enough to almost invisible. Now she and her father were covered with the blood of the victims. This atmosphere of possible acceptance of death at any time made Claire feel that her mind was blank, and she was like a machine, constantly moving forward.

The smell of blood was everywhere in the air, and every deep breath made Claire feel sick. She began to feel uneven breathing, her legs and feet were sore and weak. The hand held by her father felt that the strength from her father was getting stronger and stronger, and the weight of her body became heavier and heavier. She knew that she was almost unable to run.

"There is still...how far..." Claire asked gasping.

"Don't talk," my father's breath was not at all confused, and he was still full of energy. "Don't think of anything, adjust your breathing, increase your strides, control your rhythm, and follow me."

At another intersection, Claire saw a running couple. Her husband left his wife and disappeared alone in the smoke. His wife sat dejectedly on the ground with her eyes dull, and she also saw the people who stopped to wait for her companions. They hurried to rest every second. Once someone around them died, they would struggle to jump away like frightened rabbits and continue to run a few steps.

Time seems to pass particularly slowly here, every second and every action seems to be slow motion.

Some elderly people call their relatives with their cell phones and prepare their last words.

Next to a corpse, the young man raised his head in front of his companion's body. He gave up running, laughed loudly at the air and the entire street, and scolded the invaders, but the enemy did not come to him. Finally, he took out a handful of **** from his pocket and pointed it at his temple.

The child, who was only seven or eight years old, was flinched and reported his knees, facing the body of his parents not far away, his face full of tears and fear...

Suddenly, the force that had been pulling Claire, and the force that was moving forward disappeared. She lost her balance and fell on a pile of corpses. The corpse had not lost its temperature yet. The blood flowed out slowly along his clothes. Claire struggled to stand up. Seeing his father covering his neck, staring at him with his eyes tightly, and the direction above his head, she understood the meaning of his father's eyes - run! Run!

Claire raised his head and followed his father's gaze and saw that, just above his head, a black dot that seemed to be floating quietly in the air. Claire knew that it was staring at him, like a lion staring at an antelope. She wanted to run, but the strong fear made the muscles in her body uncontrollable. Finally, she looked in the direction of her father, and after seeing his depressed head, she closed her eyes in despair.

However, the next moment, she felt her hand tightly held by the other hand. The hand was so warm and full of power, just like... Claire opened his eyes suddenly and held his hand and let go. Claire turned his head and saw a dark black man sitting next to him, wearing a blue Carmel uniform that he had seen on the news, holding a blood-stained dagger in his right hand, his face looked ugly.

Then Claire noticed that he was no longer surrounded by dead bodies, but in a square that seemed very familiar. Around him, there were many soldiers in blue uniforms sitting on benches in rows, with the same expression on his face as the black man who saved him, and there were about hundreds of people.

After a few seconds of being stunned, Claire reacted slowly. She turned her head blankly and saw the familiar Washington Monument not far away, the star and striped flags flying around the monument, and countless flashes flashed continuously around the square, those who continued to maintain their continued beauty, the helicopters hovering nearby, and... the White House right in front of her.

After realizing that she was safe, she suddenly remembered the last glance of her father when she looked at her. After realizing that her father might be rescued, she twitched her whole body suddenly, as if she was electrocuted, and it seemed that a switch in her body was turned on. She subconsciously opened her mouth and shouted to the Carmel soldier who had just saved her: "My dad, go and save him quickly. He is not dead yet, not yet..."

The black man standing in front of him raised his head, looked at her seriously, shook his head firmly and slowly, and said, "I'm sorry, this is all I can do."

"No...you can!...you have magic, I beg you..." The intense emotional excitement made Claire speak incoherently. She looked at all the Carmel soldiers around her, "Please, my father is not dead yet, he is not dead yet..."

No one answered her. They had experienced enough such a scene just now. After each person completed the mission, he saved someone and came back. This was all they could do.

"Why? Why do you obviously have the ability to save them, but do nothing." Claire murmured to himself.

Two Americans came to Claire, one of whom was a female soldier. She carefully supported Claire and gently advised her to leave the place, but Claire refused to listen. She knelt on the ground like a nervous person, grabbed the Carmel soldier's clothes, like a person who fell into the water holding a floating wooden board.

"Go back," a strange voice appeared in Claire's mind. "Sleep well and just treat it as a nightmare."

...

Corpse on the street, black crowd sitting in silence, ubiquitous eyes of space, terrified crowd...

Space Gate, Kill!...

Kill! I kill!...

Space Gate, Kill! A severe pain came from my neck, I was...Are you going to die?

Kamo suddenly sat up from the bed. The first thing he did when he woke up was to touch his throat without any wounds. Only then did he realize that he was just dreaming.

"Dream?" Kamo subconsciously looked at his wrist. The place where he should have worn a communicator was empty. He turned his head and looked at the familiar Carmel logo on the location of the fire extinguisher behind the door of the room, and himself now, where is this? The white quilt, the hospital? What's going on?

The door of the room was opened at this time, and a soldier in uniform came in. This was one of his comrades-in-arms, a Middle Eastern man. He didn't remember the other party's strange name, but only remembered his code name in the army, called Sahara, which also means desert. After seeing Kamo's confused eyes, Sahara nodded to him.

After waiting for a while, when Kamo didn't respond, he murmured a string of Arabic that he couldn't understand at all. Then, he found a civil communicator from Kamo's bed nightstand and threw it to him. After Kamo took it, Sahara greeted him again: "How do you feel when you wake up?"

"This is a hospital, right?" Kamo was a little puzzled, "I remember I was not injured."

"Yes, I think so too," Sahara shrugged, then pointed to his head. "But the doctors don't think so. They think we have some problems here, saying it's a mental illness. By the way, have you had a nightmare?"

Kamo nodded.

"That's it," said Sahara, "if you accidentally treat this place as a battlefield..."

Kamo probably understood what he meant. After a while of daze, he remembered and asked, "How is the war?"

"What else can it be," Sahara curled his lips, "from the moment we left the battlefield, this war had already come to fruition."

"Then, how many people have we... died in total?" Kamo asked again.

"Not many." Sahara seemed unwilling to answer directly and said vaguely.

"How much?" Kamo certainly knew a lot. As time went by, their infiltration troops suffered greater losses, because high-intensity combat could not last too long. Even Kamo himself clearly felt that his reaction speed began to become slow in the end, and he was a little bit short of several times...

"285 people go out," Sahara said in a muffled voice, "87 are back."

198 people were killed, more than two-thirds of them. For any unit, such losses can be considered as injuries. According to information Kamo knew, this number is more than one-tenth of Carmel's existing special operations forces.

"Then..." Kamo opened his mouth, but after thinking about it, he still gave up.

"You want to ask how many people on the battlefield have escaped, right?" Sahara saw through his thoughts. "Except for us retreating and saving those more than 80 people, there are only more than 600 survivors on the entire battlefield, all of whom are hiding in the pile of corpses to pretend to be dead."

"Pretending to be dead?" Kamo was a little puzzled, "Then how did they come back?"

"It's not that they came back, but that we went over and found it," Sahara's mouth showed a faint smile. "After the massacre in the middle of the night, they generously returned 800,000 bodies to the Americans, and retreated before dawn."

"Retreat?" Kamo asked subconsciously, "Where to retreat?"

"Where do you come from? Go back," Sahara lay on the bed, took out a remote control from under the pillow, and pressed a few times on the TV hanging on the wall, "Look, the Americans are collecting the body."

"You..." Kamo looked at the smile on Sahara's face, a little confused, "It seems to be very happy?"

"I don't deny my dislike for the United States," Sahara looked at the news while sneering. "It's not surprising. I was an Iraqi before, and outside of the mission, I'm very happy to see Americans unlucky."

Kamo didn't say anything anymore, looked up to watch TV. There were shocked and hunched people everywhere in the picture. The most prosperous city in the past has now become a dead city. In the suburbs of New York City, the crematorium that was previously prepared for the enemy is now operating at full power.

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