“All in all, this is a battle we were bound to win.
The enemy wasn’t strong.
The only thing you needed to overcome was yourselves.
“We only won because the enemy was too weak, and these same tactics will only work against a small number of Infected Patrol Squad members. You are still too weak and need more training.”
After reviewing the entire battle, Mo reached this conclusion.
“But regardless, we won this time, didn’t we?!”
An Infected in the crowd was ecstatic, his face filled with pride.
Mo paused for a moment, sighed, and then addressed all the Infected.
“Yes, you won this battle. It is a victory worth being proud of, and you are all remarkable warriors. You can celebrate as much as you want tonight, but tomorrow…”
Mo paused.
“Tomorrow… you must continue training.”
“Ura!!!”
Mo’s words were drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
Watching the revelry, Mo shook his head and decided to let them enjoy themselves.
After all, considering how slowly news traveled across the ice plains, who knew when the Infected Patrol Squad would even realize that something was wrong?
This victory had completely shattered the Infected’s psychological trauma toward the Infected Patrol Squad and strengthened their confidence in resisting.
That was a good thing.
But the battles to come would not be suitable for them.
For now, it was better to simply enjoy the happiness of the moment.
Mo walked into the crowd and joined the celebration.
This sense of fulfillment was wonderful.
And intoxicating.
Roman, who was also in the crowd, noticed Mo joining the celebration.
He chuckled and encouraged several Ursus girls nearby to run over to Mo and grab his hands, pulling him into a dance around the fire.
Watching the big guy standing stiffly among the girls, completely at a loss, Roman laughed triumphantly.
His exaggerated laughter successfully caught Mo’s attention.
Mo didn’t even need to think to know who was behind this.
He glared fiercely at Roman.
And Roman laughed even harder.
“Heh, an ineffective attack? Even now, you still want to annoy me, Hagiman, you bastard.” This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The entire camp celebrated throughout the night.
The next day, after a full night of revelry, everyone in the camp slowly woke from their dreams and returned to work on the camp’s construction.
The members of the caravan, with the exception of Roman, were responsible for gathering intelligence under the cover of their trade.
Roman, as a veteran, was responsible for training the Infected according to Mo’s requirements and rapidly turning them into an effective fighting force.
Mo continued overseeing and planning everything, preparing for the battles ahead.
The Infected Patrol Squad usually spent two to three days conducting missions on the ice plains, depending on the circumstances.
Since Mo’s camp was located far from any city, it would take at least three days for the Infected Patrol Squad to realize that something was wrong.
Considering their corruption and incompetence, along with their abysmal administrative efficiency, it would take at least another two days before they actually set out.
Then there were another two days of travel.
Ideally, the camp would have a full week to prepare for the second wave of confrontation.
With that week added to their previous training, the Throwers and Casters could barely reach wartime standards.
As for the melee personnel, Mo wasn’t holding out much hope.
The gap in physical ability could only be overcome with time.
Moreover, the Infected Patrol Squad had spent years acting as oppressors.
If they were forced into actual combat, they might become even more crazed than the Infected themselves.
No oppressor would willingly allow the people they oppressed to resist.
Weak resistance would only provoke even more savage violence.
The current plan was to wear down the enemy through traps and long-range attacks, while Mo would personally lead the melee charge.
Roman would oversee the overall situation and make timely adjustments whenever necessary.
There was another issue.
Weapons.
Weapons were controlled items in the vast majority of countries.
Especially in a militaristic nation like Ursus, it was practically impossible for civilians to obtain proper weapons.
This wasn’t even a case of “millet and rifles fighting planes and cannons.”
At least rifles could shoot.
The Infected only had farm tools.
The disparity in equipment was enormous.
Seizing the enemy’s weapons was therefore a good idea.
The next wave of the Infected Patrol Squad would most likely be sent to verify what had happened.
At most, there would be two squads.
No.
Considering the corruption within the Infected Patrol Squad, there would probably only be one.
Damn it.
That meant this wave would directly cut their income in half.
Before things escalated to the point where the Army became involved, the more of these Infected Patrol Squad vermin they could eliminate, the better.
At present, the camp only possessed the crossbows Roman had brought along and several sets of standard-issue Ursus weapons stripped from the Infected Patrol Squad.
Once they dealt with the next wave, Mo planned to launch direct attacks against other Infected Patrol Squads operating on the ice plains.
He would collect as many weapons as possible, arm the camp, and prepare for the battles ahead.
A week passed quickly amid intense training.
Just as planned, the second wave of the Infected Patrol Squad was about to arrive at the camp.
But the situation was different this time.
After a week of intensive training and overcoming their psychological trauma, the Infected were no longer willing to take anyone’s abuse.
They rubbed their fists and palms together, eagerly awaiting the battle.
A week of training was nowhere near enough to bring them up to the standards of the Ursus Army.
But a week of specialized, intensive training could produce impressive results in specific areas.
This battle also began with a smoke screen.
The difference was that this time, the Infected had no interest in playing around.
They went straight for concentrated fire, wiping out the invading enemies outside the camp.
In addition, ambushers had been hidden in the surrounding woods, responsible for finishing off any survivors and collecting the enemy’s supplies.
Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion.
A genuine unit of Infected had begun to take shape.
Although their abilities were somewhat unbalanced, they could now be considered to possess basic combat capability.
Next…
It was time to sound the Horn of Counterattack!
Horn: Σ(っ °Д °; )っ