"It's a monster!"
The Ten Rings recognized the threat imdiately.
Even in Afghanistan, people had seen the international coverage of the Monster Association attacks. Entire cities had nearly collapsed under the first wave of invasions. Monster sightings weren't so distant rumor anymore.
They were real.
And now one had landed directly on top of their poppy fields.
"Damn it! Call the Global Defense Bureau!"
The local Ten Rings commander hesitated for half a second before barking the order.
The Bureau's ergency hotline operated more like a global disaster-response service than a covert intelligence agency. Their entire purpose was fighting monsters and protecting civilization.
There was no point hiding in shadows like the CIA, FBI, or NSA.
The operator who received the distress call remained calm and professional.
Then ca the bad news.
Because Afghanistan had previously refused permanent Bureau deploynt within its borders, any available superheroes would need at least twenty hours to arrive.
The commander exploded into furious curses.
Twenty hours?
At this rate there wouldn't be anything left to save.
"Get out there and stop that thing!" he roared at his n.
"If it destroys the rest of the crop, we're finished!"
So far, the Ice Cream Monster had already wiped out more than a hundred tons of unharvested poppy resin.
The Ten Rings commander felt physical pain just thinking about the money disappearing beneath all that supernatural frost.
His n were terrified.
Everyone understood what fighting a monster ant now.
But after the commander publicly shot two cowards trying to retreat, the others had no choice except to charge forward.
The Ten Rings possessed unusually advanced firepower for a terrorist organization.
That wasn't an accident.
Operating in Afghanistan ant constant warfare against Taliban factions, local militias, rival tribes, and occasionally even U.S. forces. Survival demanded military-grade weaponry.
Much of that equipnt had quietly flowed through CIA channels over the years.
The CIA had long viewed the Ten Rings as a useful counterbalance against Taliban influence and growing Eastern interests in the region. Weapons pipelines, black-market logistics, covert transport routes… none of it could have functioned at that scale without powerful intelligence support behind the scenes.
The Ten Rings also maintained alliances with Pashtun tribes throughout the region.
The tribes supplied manpower, funding, recruits, and territory.
In return, the Ten Rings protected them from Taliban raids and exploitation.
The arrangent had worked extrely well.
It allowed the organization to root itself deeply inside Afghanistan and expand at alarming speed.
Now those sa fighters charged toward the Ice Cream Monster in a chemically fueled frenzy.
Most of them were high on combat stimulants and narcotics, fearless to the point of insanity.
The Ice Cream Monster burst into laughter.
"Heheheh! Humans really are entertaining!"
The Monster Association had sent him here specifically to destroy narcotics production. Apparently these drug networks ford a major piece of humanity's strongest economies.
So he'd been working enthusiastically.
The ard humans attacking him now?
Just a bonus distraction.
The battle barely qualified as resistance.
As a Demon-level monster, the Ice Cream Monster crushed the incoming militants effortlessly.
Even with drugs numbing fear and pain, the fighters accomplished little more than mildly inconveniencing him before dying beneath waves of supernatural frost.
Bodies froze solid mid-charge.
Limbs shattered apart like glass sculptures dropped onto concrete.
The fields turned white.
"...We're done."
The Ten Rings commander covered his face in despair.
A fresh report had just arrived.
One thousand tons of poppy resin had been destroyed.
One thousand tons.
Dozens of millions of dollars gone.
Maybe more.
Heroin production.
Weapons funding.
Bribes.
Trade routes.
Payroll.
Everything connected to that harvest.
The commander could already imagine what would happen once the organization realized how catastrophic the losses were.
This wasn't a setback.
It was a broken spine.
Then another subordinate rushed over with even worse news.
"The Aricans are attacking our territory! The Taliban too!"
The commander nearly blacked out from rage.
"Those vultures…"
The United States military had spent years trying to dismantle Taliban and Ten Rings influence across rural Afghanistan.
One of their major strategies involved "village stabilization."
Instead of controlling entire provinces outright, Arican forces embedded small Special Forces teams into key villages, gradually building local security, infrastructure, and loyalty outward from those isolated footholds.
Defensive fortifications.
dical support.
Basic education.
Agricultural assistance.
Militia training.
Anything that weakened insurgent control.
Slowly, thodically, they expanded their influence village by village.
And tonight, the chaos surrounding the monster attack created a perfect opening.
The mont U.S. commanders realized the Ten Rings were under attack, they launched imdiate operations against nearby territories.
The Taliban saw gunfire erupting across the region and assud a major conflict had started.
Naturally, they joined in.
Because in Afghanistan, everyone shot at everyone eventually.
"Danny, notify the patrol teams!"
"Marcus, get the villagers up here and ready to fight!"
An Arican soldier shouted orders while firing simultaneously.
His MK11 MOD 0 sniper rifle cracked across the night.
The 7.62mm rounds punched straight through unarmored Ten Rings fighters, tearing bloody holes through torsos and skulls alike.
Nearby, another soldier unleashed suppressive fire from an HK416 assault rifle.
Muzzle flashes strobed through the darkness.
The third soldier advanced alongside ard villagers rushing into the battle line.
Caught between monster attacks, Taliban pressure, and sudden Arican offensives, the Ten Rings forces collapsed into chaos.
Elsewhere, Apache helicopters belonging to the 101st Airborne Division's Combat Aviation Brigade refueled at a forward arming and refueling point near the frontline.
Attack helicopters rarely launched directly into combat from distant bases. The travel alone consud enormous amounts of fuel.
Instead, mobile frontline stations were established roughly fifty kiloters from active combat zones, providing rapid refueling, ammunition replenishnt, and temporary command support.
The Apaches kept their engines running throughout the process.
Shutting down turbine engines entirely wasted precious ti. Restart procedures were slow, especially before temperatures stabilized.
With hot refueling procedures, crews could fully replenish fuel and munitions in under twenty minutes.
And tonight, every second mattered.
Because Afghanistan had already started burning.
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