Chapter Eight: Tiger Tiger Tiger

  Darkness shrouded the vast European continent, and the smell of scorching from days of slaughter wafted through the sweltering summer night. In this new world where magic and beauty coexisted, the war god's dance steps became increasingly bewildering, but amidst the accompaniment of symphony, a majestic thunder-like war drum sound suddenly burst forth!

  "Forward!" Red Army tank commander Valery Grigorievich Merkurov shouted in his usual loud voice.

  This Cossack from the Don River had a strong physique and an incredibly brave style, just like his name. Now General Merkulov is a Lieutenant-General in the Army, commanding the battle-hardened 10th Guards Tank Division - also known as the "Red Banner Guards 10th Tank Division" due to its receipt of the Red Banner award and Guards designation.

  They now relieved the 36th Guards Tank Corps and launched a frontal assault on the 229th position outside Berlin.

  The wedge-shaped formation of T-65 Ironfist tanks emitted a spine-chilling, muffled rumble as they advanced slowly but powerfully northward, pressing against the fragile defensive positions of the Western Imperialists.

  At this moment, the southern horizon flashed with lightning, and the rumbling thunder rolled in - a storm of shells and rockets poured down from the sky, accurately and violently landing on the Allied army's position, engulfing all natural and man-made objects on the ground in towering fireballs and deafening explosions.

  That's the roar of the V4 rocket car team from Leipzig! It's a declaration of death from hell!

  "Along the artillery fire line! Advance!" General-Lieutenant Merkulov gave orders in a high-pitched voice into the receiver.

  The general sat upright on the T-65's commander seat, his blood boiling. Only such a massive and earth-shaking all-out attack could fully demonstrate the Red Army's power and momentum.

  Looking at the Allied soldiers screaming and running in the fierce fire in the distance, Melkurov's mouth curled up with a slight contemptuous arc.

  Indeed, because the political systems of living beings are different. So the fighting will of warriors is also different? Hehehe~ Capitalism, indeed it's just a system of producing cowards and running dogs! And this system must be replaced by the great **!

  "Up! Young men! Kill all these weak and despicable capitalist running dogs! For our great Soviet Motherland! Hurrah!!" The general shouted out the slogan again from the car.

  Although this slogan is shouted out by him every time, it still has a certain appeal.

  Hearing the familiar slogans, young soldiers burned their adrenal hormones and then, amidst a surge of passionate shouts, they stepped on the gas pedal, accelerated the speed of loading bullets, and viciously fired terrifying shells into the local crowd.

  Boom! The red sparks flashed by, and in the distance, it had already turned into a sea of flames.

  "Wow!!!"

  "Charge! Charge! Crush them!"

  "Long live the Soviet Union!! Hurray!!"

  The Red Army soldiers were in high spirits, each one charging towards the Allied army's already chaotic formation like a fierce lion.

  The troops collapsed like a mountain falling down.

  An Allied soldier with a broken leg crawled away on the ground, but his speed was not something to be proud of. He had already lost one leg and could only watch in despair as the olive green Russian tank slowly caught up with him, its tracks rolling over his body.

  After the tank rolled over, a bloody and flesh-like road appeared abruptly.

  A crippled Guardian tank with a broken track was making futile struggles on the ground, its American-style wheels spinning wildly in a desperate bid to escape. Then, under the hammering fire of the approaching Iron Fist tanks, it became a blazing ball of flames.

  Merkurov glared at the fleeing Allied forces with a ferocious expression, harboring an unrelenting hatred for Americans. His only kin, his younger brother Pyotr, had been caught and killed by local gangsters while traveling in America.

  Now you can rest in peace... Peter. Those damned Americans, I'll catch and kill them one by one. Then let those wicked souls go to heaven to atone for your sin.

  The ferocious and cruel bear has slaughtered enough. Now this group of butchers will be targeted by even more ferocious wolves!

  Ahhhooooo~~~~~

  A lone wolf's howl, filled with desolation and terror, rose above the chaotic gunfire on the battlefield, its sound piercing through heaven and earth.

  It was as if the wolf king's howl had frightened them, and the Red Army soldiers who were still enjoying the thrill of killing suddenly stopped their slaughter, turning around in unison to look at the general who had not given orders for a long time.

  "What's that noise?" Melyukov asked a nearby non-commissioned officer.

  "A Red Army tanker of Mongolian descent from Siberian hunters, Kondratyev, stammered in fright: "W-wolf... is the wolf king! There's a big wolf!!""

  "What big wolf? What big wolf?" Melkurov was about to continue asking. In fact, he was also very puzzled. Generally, wild beasts that heard the roar of gunfire would usually run far away, and it was rare for such a strange thing to happen.

  "The...the!!" The tank gunner's eyes were fixed on the incredible scene on the hillside, his hands shaking nonstop.

  Merkurov turned his head and looked in the direction where the tank commander was pointing, and after taking a look, he involuntarily took a cold breath and couldn't move his gaze away.

  A bright moon rose slowly from behind the mountain ridge, shining like a silver plate. The faint light fell down, casting a chill over the vast and desolate wilderness. On that mountain ridge, a majestic wolf sat proudly, its body illuminated by the bright moonlight, creating a dazzling backdrop. Although they were separated by several hundred feet, Melkurov seemed to clearly feel the cold indifference and solemnity emanating from the lone wolf's body.

  Merkurov could even clearly feel the thick wolf hair on the lone wolf's body, gently swaying in the cold evening wind.

  "Waaaah~~"

  Under the gaze of 1,000 Soviet Red Army soldiers on the battlefield, that lone wolf raised its head and let out a long howl towards the sky. Suddenly, the loud wolf's cry echoed through the clouds.

  "Waaaah~~"

  "Waaaah~~"

  In the midst of ear-piercing howls, the lone wolf stood up proudly. Under the bright moonlight, it shook its icy fur vigorously and slowly disappeared behind the mountain ridge. In the sky, its howls still lingered, as if countless wild wolves were responding with long, mournful cries.

  "It's too beautiful... This is simply a miracle..." Melkurov couldn't help but exclaim at the sight of such beauty.

  "Look quickly! A fire has broken out!!"

  "What a huge fire!"

  "The entire mountain is on fire!"

  The howling of the wolf-like creatures awakened Melkurov from his illusion, and as he opened his eyes, Melkurov's pupils suddenly contracted. The small hill where the wolf king had lain was now entirely engulfed in flames, transforming into a mountain of raging fire in an instant. Rolling waves of fierce flames shot up into the sky, and the deep red glow illuminated the entire world as brightly as daylight!

  "Look quickly, something is emerging from under the ground in front of the bonfire~~"

  "What's that thing?"

  The Red Army soldiers were shouting and trembling, their voices filled with inexplicable fear.

  Merkurov's eyes narrowed for a moment, and he also saw that terrible scene.

  Against the backdrop of a raging inferno, on the flat and dark horizon, a gigantic figure suddenly emerged like a ghost! Under the illumination of the crackling flames, the figure gradually became clearer. It had completely risen above the horizon~~

  Wolf.

  Wolf's pattern.

  On the steel body of a dark grey locomotive, a blood-red wolf pattern was emblazoned. Against the backdrop of flickering flames, the wolf pattern seemed to come alive.

  But what was most astonishing to the Russians was that the strange tank with wolf patterns wasn't just one or two, but rather like countless devils emerging from hell, quietly stopping there.

  It's as if the murderer observes the victim before killing them.

  "Hiss~~"

  A faint hissing sound of gasping for breath rose from behind the general, these red army soldiers who had always regarded death as nothing, now felt an inexplicable fear!

  This is not from the heart, but from the depths of the soul!

  This opponent... isn't easy!!

  "Stay alert!!" Kurmelyov ordered in a low voice to his subordinates.

  Kulmelf is also a seasoned general on the battlefield. How could he, with his rich combat experience, be intimidated by such a situation?

  Unbeknownst to them, the mysterious tank battalion that suddenly appeared had already assembled. Now they stood like stone statues in front of the Red Army's tank army formation. At this moment, the entire battlefield was left with only the deafening roar of the two armies' tank engines suppressing each other.

  The battlefield suddenly fell into such a strange and eerie scene.

  Just as Kurmelyov was unable to make out whether the troops facing him were friend or foe, a red-painted tank in the opposing tank formation suddenly knocked open the hatch on his head. Then, inside Kurmelyov's sight, a flag rose slowly from within the vehicle.

  Bloody Red Flag!!!!!

  But the soldiers poking their heads out of the carriages didn't wear the deep blue driver's uniforms with Allied armored infantry insignia as they had imagined. Instead, they wore a gray military uniform that they had never seen before, along with a striking black cross pinned to their clean chest.

  At the same time, under the good spotlight of the Iron Hammer Tank, Kurmellov finally saw the whole picture of this tank.

  This is a completely outdated tank model from 20 years ago! A complete two-wheeled caterpillar, with a vertically armored body that has proven to be the most unsuitable. And that short and stout gun barrel that looks intimidating at first glance, plus, based on my many years of combat experience, this tank's turret is even a fixed non-moving turret!

  Is this... really something that should be put in a museum? Look, there's even rust on the body of that red tank.

  Do these guys want to go up against our latest model iron hammer tank T-65? They're really looking for death!!!

  The camera cuts to the red Tiger King tank.

  Colonel Ingraham looked at the Red Army commander opposite him, who was slow to give the order to go into battle. His mouth curled up in a deep and scornful smile.

  "Not bad, huh? You didn't even wait for us to gather our team before attacking us... This is what they call underestimating someone! Alright, since you said that, then this one 'undead' won't hold back..."

  "What is our creed?" Ingram asked in a low voice over the wireless.

  "Charge!" The soldiers responded in unison over the radio.

  "Gentlemen, our leader once said. What is the strongest part of a German tank!? Tell me! Gentlemen!"

  "Charge! Charge!"

  "Very well..." Ingram's smile grew darker. "Now there is a group of fools blocking our way in front of the Tiger King, what will we do?"

  "Charge! Charge! Charge!" The old era undead warriors sitting in the war chariots, all shouted out loud with a burst of energy.

  "Then!!!!": Ingram suddenly shouted loudly. Under the clear night sky, his voice could penetrate the entire battlefield!

  "Charge...!!!!!!!!!!" Akardo replaced the colonel and gave the order, pulling out his beloved two revolvers that were once given to him by the former head of state. Now he was going to use these revolvers to kill the sinful Russians who dared to attack Germany and offend this divine being!!!

  Bump———

  The Tiger King's 120mm super-strong armor-piercing gun, accompanied by the soldiers' roar, shot out a shell full of anger and hatred. In a shocking explosion, the front armor of the opposing Iron Fist tank was pierced like paper, and then it was engulfed in flames and turned into a burning mass of scrap iron.