The target for the assault was decided to be the command post.
It just so happened to be close to the house where the affair was taking place.
The command post was surrounded by a metal fence with a gate.
A few guards were standing there, but I approached boldly, ignoring them.
As I strolled down the path (with Borodo's face), the guards tried to stop me.
Passing by, I crushed his head with my grip.
Brain matter, like crushed tomatoes, splattered onto the face and uniform of the guard standing next to him.
I kicked the stunned colleague, who had frozen in shock, sending him flying in a bent position.
He landed at the gate guardhouse, where another guard was stationed. Without giving him a chance to react, I stepped in and sliced through both the building and the guard with a butcher knife.
Even though my face was still Borodo's, the guards at the command post entrance raised their guns and shouted warnings.
They should have pulled the trigger immediately.
I charged in, slicing through the front door and the two guards.
The alarm finally sounded, but it was too late.
Amid the chaos, I sprinted through the entrance hall.
I stormed into a room I had identified earlier, bursting through the door like a raging bull. Inside was a fat man on a bed, surrounded by several young girls.
The man spoke with annoyance, underestimating me—probably because my face was still Borodo's.
Retaining my human senses, I couldn't tolerate these pleasure-seekers while soldiers risked their lives on the front lines. I minced both the man and the girls.
Having successfully taken out the enemy's core, I decided to completely disable the command post. I snacked on the brain of one of the girls, then turned on my heel, holding the man's severed head.
As I returned to the entrance hall, organized gunfire finally began.
A volley of bullets from the lined-up troops knocked Borodo's skin off my head.
Beneath it was the Butcher's ominous face. Their faces contorted in shock, and the gunfire paused for a moment.
Seizing the opportunity, I hurled the man's severed head at the troops with all my might. The head, now a projectile, tore through the center of their formation.
Almost simultaneously, I slammed my massive body into the gap, swinging the butcher knife horizontally in a single slash. The entrance hall was now a sea of blood.
I picked up a fallen assault rifle and shot fleeing guards in the back. They chose to run from the suddenly appeared Butcher—a correct choice, but too late. I wouldn't let them escape.
After clearing the command post, I clamped onto a female soldier's throat, sipping her blood while checking outside through the second-floor window.
The city was already engulfed in alarms.
The alien main force, seeing this chaos, must have begun their assault. My job was almost done. I'd play around a bit, eat some food, and head back.
As I was planning this sightseeing tour, a large shadow emerged from the darkness across the street, stomping heavily toward me.
It was the Mechanized Heavy Infantry—nicknamed Ripley.
Soldiers called it that because it resembled the power loader the woman used to fight the original alien. It was their trusted weapon.
This was going to be a bit troublesome.
Originally designed to counter threats like dragons and giants, it was a bipedal, large-scale weapon—essentially a walking machine gun. It could deploy anywhere: forests, mountains, cities, or rubble.
The 20mm autocannon it carried was powerful enough to pierce even the alien's mysterious defenses.
It was also an effective countermeasure against Butchers. Such an expensive weapon—why was it in this small backwater town?
Ripley stopped, having detected me.
The dual autocannons mounted on its shoulders began to lower.
The moment I saw the black circles of the gun barrels, I ran.
Instantly, the second floor of the command post was blown to pieces in a barrage of heavy gunfire, accompanied by a thunderous beat.
Occasional tracer rounds streaked toward me, visible as glowing lines.
Almost simultaneously, I reflexively used the butcher knife as a shield, and a deafening explosion sounded. The impact sent my body flying backward.
*"When you're this big, it's a disadvantage in situations like this!"*
I was blown through a wall to the opposite side of the command post but managed to roll upon landing, sliding into an alley and escaping unharmed.
Even I was impressed by my agility. No Butcher moves like this. If I'd seen this as a soldier, I'd have run away immediately.
Ripley already knew I was there. Running would only make it chase me. I wasn't wearing my Butcher bag today, so getting shot in the back would be dangerous. I had to take it out here and now.
Peeking out of the alley, I surveyed the street.
One Mechanized Heavy Infantry Ripley emerged from the corner of the distant street, accompanied by four infantrymen. No support weapons were visible.
The infantrymen had grenades, but if I closed in, they wouldn't risk firing for fear of friendly fire. It was doable. Let's do this.
Casually, I ripped off a nearby house's front door pillar, stepped into the street, and hurled it at Ripley with a perfect javelin throw.
The spinning pillar flew straight and struck Ripley's torso.
With a heavy metallic clang—*Gwaaann!*—Ripley staggered.
By then, I was already sprinting, using the ground to accelerate.
I ignored the infantrymen, dodging their shots as I slid across the street, closing in on Ripley. I swung the butcher knife with my body's momentum, slashing at Ripley's legs.
With a satisfying *cling*, one of Ripley's legs was severed.
Ripley fired its autocannon wildly, tumbling backward and landing on its back.
I raised the heavy iron block in a wood-splitting stance and slammed it down on Ripley's torso.
A thunderous *Zugaoooooon!* echoed through the night sky.
After the shockwave and the small earthquake subsided, a heavy silence fell.
Ripley, split in two by my strike, lay on the ground, leaking black oil and red blood.
Fine debris and pebbles rained down as the accompanying soldiers stood in stunned disbelief, their gunfire faltering.
Sparks flew from the exposed wires, igniting the oil.
With the flames as my backdrop, I methodically took down the soldiers, one by one.
*Eighty points*—I'd wanted to seize the autocannon, but I'd sliced Ripley in half in the heat of the moment. The autocannon would've made the upcoming slaughter easier.
The 20mm autocannon is the largest weapon I can handle solo. Its blowback-operated drum feed and simple portability are perfect. At 25mm, it becomes chain-driven, requiring an engine or motor.
Its power is unmatched. Armor-piercing rounds can turn light vehicles or helicopters into sieves, while high-explosive rounds can mince enemy groups. Its effective range exceeds a kilometer.
With this, wooden buildings are like paper houses. They'd be reduced to rubble in an instant. Long live the 20mm.
However, its weight and recoil make it impossible for a normal person to handle.
But I can fire it.
Yes, a Butcher can.
Sighing briefly, I started walking.
Just then, a rare command came in while I was infiltrating.
*"Return. Defend."*
What? Defend? Where?
Confused for a moment, I suddenly sprinted.
No need to ask—it was the alien main force.
They were under attack?
Unbelievable. Were there more Mechanized Heavy Infantry?
I'd usually ignore it, but this was bad—
Abigail was with the main force.
She's a vulnerable human. If an autocannon were aimed at her, even a glancing hit would turn her to mince.