Reincarnated with a Military System in Another World

Chapter 160: Provoked



The Javelin missile streaked through the air, its trail a glowing arc of fire against the dusk sky. For a split second, time seemed to slow as the missile closed in on the stone sentinel. Then, with a deafening explosion, it struck the creature dead center, right in its chest. The shockwave rippled outward, kicking up dust and debris as the sentinel's stone torso shattered into jagged fragments. The towering figure staggered, its glowing eyes flickering before it crumbled into a pile of rubble, collapsing with a tremendous crash.

The soldiers exhaled collectively, but their relief was short-lived. No sooner had the first sentinel fallen than a deep rumble echoed through the valley. The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, sending small rocks tumbling down the mountain. From the shadows of the cliffs and the dark recesses of the forest, more stone sentinels emerged, their ancient forms shaking off centuries of dust and dirt. Their glowing eyes flared to life, turning their focus on Vincent's team.

"Multiple contacts!" Marcus shouted, pointing as the sentinels rose. The soldiers immediately turned to face the new threat, forming a tighter defensive perimeter. Rifles were raised, and fingers hovered over the triggers, waiting for the order.

Vincent quickly scanned the surroundings, his mind racing. There were at least ten more sentinels emerging from the cliffs, and they were moving in unison, their steps shaking the ground with a rhythmic pulse. These weren't just sentries-they were an entire defensive force designed to protect the dwarven kingdom from intruders.

"Sir, we're getting surrounded here!" one of the soldiers called out, his voice tinged with urgency.

Vincent clenched his jaw. They didn't have the firepower to take down this many sentinels with just their rifles and the Javelin team. And using more of their missiles might trigger an even greater response from the dwarves.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"We need air support," Vincent said, his tone cold and decisive. "Marcus, call in the Apaches. We need those birds in the air now."

Marcus didn't waste a second. He pulled his radio from his vest and barked into it, "This is Ground Team Alpha to Apache Flight, we need immediate air support! Hostile stone sentinels surrounding our position! Engage at will, over."

The response came swiftly, the pilot's voice crisp over the comms. "Copy that, Ground Team Alpha. Apaches are inbound. ETA sixty seconds."

Vincent turned his attention back to the soldiers, who were already adjusting their positions, preparing for what was about to be a fierce battle. The sentinels, though slow-moving, were relentless, their glowing eyes locked onto the intruders as they marched forward with purpose.

"Javelin team, load another round, but hold fire until I give the command!" Vincent shouted. "Everyone else, concentrate fire on their legs! We need to slow them down until the Apaches get here!"

The soldiers moved with precision, their rifles coming up as they focused their sights on the advancing sentinels. With a chorus of cracks, the M4 carbines and SCAR rifles opened fire, their bullets pinging off the stone giants with sharp metallic clinks. Some of the rounds hit their mark, chipping away at the thick stone legs of the sentinels. But it was like trying to whittle away a mountain with a knife-their progress was slow.

"Keep firing!" Marcus urged, his own rifle spitting out rounds. "Focus on the joints! We just need to slow them down!"

The sentinels, undeterred by the hail of gunfire, continued their march. One of them raised its arm, its stone fist crashing down toward the soldiers' position. The men scattered just in time, the fist slamming into the ground with enough force to send chunks of earth and rock flying in all directions.

"Move, move!" Vincent shouted, signaling for the team to reposition. They couldn't afford to stay static; the sentinels were too large and too powerful to engage head-on for long. The soldiers quickly relocated, firing in controlled bursts as they tried to keep the sentinels at bay. Overhead, the unmistakable thudding of rotor blades filled the air as the two Apache helicopters swooped in low over the tree line. Their night vision systems were activated, and the pilots wasted no time in acquiring targets. With a mechanical whir, the Apaches' 30mm chain guns spun to life, spitting out high-explosive rounds that lit up the twilight sky.

"Apaches engaging!" Marcus relayed, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The first Apache opened fire, its 30mm rounds tearing into one of the sentinels. The bullets impacted with brutal force, shattering the stone armor around its shoulders and legs. The sentinel staggered, its movements becoming sluggish as the rounds chewed through its form. With a final groan, the sentinel collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground in a shower of debris.

The second Apache unleashed its Hellfire missiles, targeting a cluster of sentinels that were advancing from the cliffs. The missiles screamed toward their targets, and a second later, twin explosions rocked the valley. Two more sentinels were obliterated, their bodies reduced to rubble as the precision-guided munitions struck them squarely in the chest.

"Direct hits!" Marcus shouted over the radio, a hint of relief in his voice.

But the victory was short-lived. Despite the damage inflicted by the Apaches, more sentinels continued to emerge from the mountainside. Their glowing eyes illuminated the landscape like embers in the dark, and their relentless advance showed no signs of slowing.

"They just keep coming," one of the soldiers muttered, his rifle trembling slightly as he reloaded. "How many of these things are there?"

Vincent gritted his teeth. This was worse than he'd expected. The sentinels weren't just defensive constructs-they were an overwhelming force designed to deter even the most determined invaders. He knew they couldn't keep this up for much longer.

"Sir, what's the call?" Marcus asked, his voice strained as he fired another burst at an approaching sentinel.

Vincent's mind raced. They couldn't afford to retreat, not now. But if they kept fighting, they'd risk being overwhelmed. And even if they managed to destroy all the sentinels, it would send the wrong message to the dwarves. The last thing they needed was to start a full- scale war with the very people they were trying to negotiate with.

"We need to get to the entrance," Vincent said finally. "This is a test-if we can reach the dwarven tunnels, they'll stop. But if we keep fighting out here, we'll just be playing into their

hands."

Marcus looked skeptical. "You think they'll stop if we make it inside?"

Vincent nodded. "They're trying to keep us out, not kill us outright. The dwarves wouldn't leave their kingdom undefended if they didn't want us to reach them. We just need to show we're not here to destroy their defenses."

Marcus hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. You heard him, boys! We're making a run for the entrance! Stay low and stay fast!"

The team moved quickly, dashing across the rocky terrain toward the massive stone gates that marked the entrance to the dwarven kingdom. The sentinels continued their advance, but the Apaches provided covering fire, their 30mm chain guns and Hellfire missiles keeping the

stone giants at bay.

"Move, move, move!" Vincent shouted, urging his men forward.

The soldiers sprinted toward the gates, their boots kicking up dust and gravel as they ran. The sentinels' heavy footsteps echoed behind them, but the Apaches' relentless fire kept the

creatures from closing in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the team reached the entrance. The massive stone doors loomed before them, intricately carved with ancient dwarven runes. Vincent didn't waste any time—he stepped forward and slammed his fist against the door, hoping the

dwarves were watching.

For a moment, nothing happened. The sentinels halted, standing motionless at the edge of the clearing, their eyes still glowing faintly.

Then, with a deep, grinding sound, the stone doors began to open.

The dwarves had been watching.

As the massive stone doors creaked open, the interior of the dwarven kingdom was slowly revealed an enormous cavernous hallway lined with flickering torches and glowing runes. The craftsmanship was unlike anything Vincent had ever seen, a perfect fusion of magic and engineering. For a moment, there was silence, and even the sentinels behind them seemed to

wait in anticipation.

Vincent, Marcus, and the team stood at the threshold, catching their breath after the frantic sprint. Vincent motioned for his men to stay back as he stepped forward, cautiously entering

the dwarven halls.

A low, guttural voice echoed from the shadows within, reverberating through the chamber. "You've destroyed our sentinels," it said. "And yet, you dare to stand at our gates." From the darkness, a figure stepped forward. A dwarf, clad in intricately forged armor, with a long braided beard and eyes glowing faintly with a blue hue. His hand rested on the hilt of a

massive warhammer slung across his back.

"You have provoked our wrath." The doors behind Vincent began to close.

"Now, you will answer for it."