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Chapter 386c
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 20:30:11 +0000 UTCChapter 386c
2-in-1-chapter
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Of course, by now, the rebel militia had already lost their nerve—no one dared to shoulder a rocket launcher in defiance.
“Truss, given how things stand… we should take this chance and escape while we still can.”
One of his closest aides made the suggestion.
The others didn’t speak, but it was clear they shared the same opinion.
Truss’s expression had never looked worse.
If he returned with remnants of his forces, he could still present it as a strategic withdrawal. But if he were to slink back with only a handful of loyal men, stripped of all strength and dignity, even if he wasn’t executed outright, he would be stripped of all rank and status.
He would never again have the chance to rise.
Still, as long as one was alive, there was always a way.
Dead men had nothing.
And he didn’t necessarily have to tie his fate to a single faction.
If, upon returning, the upper ranks of the rebellion truly refused to tolerate his failure, he could always defect—take his remaining loyalists and flee to the territory of the Shining Group.
A seasoned officer with combat experience like him… surely they wouldn’t turn him away.
With that thought, Truss hesitated no longer. He gathered his men and headed for the rear exit.
Just as they stepped outside, a Mag-Lizard gunship hovered into view above them, its Vulcan cannon already locked onto their position.
“Shit!”
Those were Truss’s final words.
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Even Leo hadn’t expected it: with only air support and no ground reinforcements yet on-site, thousands of rebel militia were routed.
Over two thousand rebels lay dead in the city’s streets.
The rest had fled in disarray.
Leo ordered Second Lieutenant Abbas to lead a force to reinforce the capital’s defenses and guard against a possible counterattack by the retreating rebels.
Though in Leo’s estimation, given how poorly they had performed, the odds of them regrouping for a return assault were slim at best.
At the same time, he instructed Aurora PMC personnel—not those rushing in from eastern Bolivia, but those already stationed at the training base near the capital—to take over the affluent district.
The goal wasn’t to loot or occupy, but to prevent the elite class who had already packed up and fled from returning to retrieve their assets.
Those who had abandoned their nation when the rebels entered the city had, by default, forfeited their claims.
Second Lieutenant Abbas had no objections and carried out Leo’s orders dutifully.
Nor was he alone—by now, the capital’s government forces had come to see Aurora PMC as something akin to divine intervention.
The same rebel threat that had once terrified them had been crushed with shocking ease. It seemed almost unreal.
And no, they didn’t assume the rebels were weak.
By Latin American standards, the rebel forces had been formidable.
It was Aurora PMC that was simply too strong.
This shift made Abbas and his fellow soldiers set aside any lingering hesitation and pledge themselves to Aurora without reservation.
With teammates like this, what more could they ask for?
Especially considering what they had already heard: that Aurora PMC not only paid well, but had never once delayed a paycheck.
Not once.
For them, that was all the loyalty they needed.
As for the President…
Abbas and his men didn’t particularly care.
They weren’t betraying the country—just switching employers.
After all, Aurora PMC was allied with the government. Joining them was more of a transfer than a mutiny.
Certainly better than those frontline troops who had outright surrendered to the rebels.
And if the President truly wanted to keep their loyalty, there was a simple solution: pay them the wages they’d been owed for over a year.
As long as he did that, they wouldn’t leave.
But the very next day, Abbas realized the President would never pay.
When they resecured the capital, the news of the President and his son came quickly:
At the moment the rebel militia launched their assault, the President had immediately tried to flee the capital with his son.
Their luck ran out on the way to the airport—they were in a car accident.
The President died on the spot.
His bodyguards fled the scene without fulfilling their duty.
Only his son, Diego—unconscious from the crash—was left behind.
A kind civilian rescued Diego, hid him at home, and later evacuated him alongside loyal government soldiers acting on Leo’s orders.
It wasn’t until Diego was recognized that he was brought before Leo.
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Leo met Diego at the presidential palace.
In the reception room, Leo handed Diego a warm drink.
Diego accepted it with both hands and murmured a quiet thank you.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry… about your father—President Anton.”
Diego said nothing.
He was, after all, still just a boy.
“What are your plans now?”
Diego stared blankly at Leo, as if not understanding the question.
“Your father is gone. That means… you are no longer the son of a sitting president. So, what do you plan to do next? Do you intend to run for president?”
In a monarchy, a king’s death would see the crown passed to his son.
But Bolivia wasn’t a monarchy. Presidents were elected, not inherited.
Still, Leo believed that if Diego chose to run for office, he stood a fair chance of winning.
Not because of merit, but because the elite class needed a puppet.
Once those who had fled the capital learned the rebels had been expelled, they would surely return.
And if they found out that President Anton was dead, they would undoubtedly pressure Diego to step into his father’s role.
But that wasn’t out of goodwill.
It was precisely because Diego was younger and even more inexperienced than his father that he would be easier to control.
That was why Leo had asked about his plans.
Diego rubbed the edge of his cup with his fingers. “I don’t know.”
Leo wasn’t surprised by the answer.
Diego was still just a child. If he’d answered with something like “I will carry on my father’s legacy,” that would have been shocking.
“Want to hear my opinion? I think you have a lot of options.”
“For example, you could stay here in the capital. Even if you do nothing, your father left behind enough wealth to ensure you live comfortably for the rest of your life.”
“Or, you could move to any country in Europe—to settle down, or to go to school. You’re about the right age for that anyway. If you want to go, I can arrange it for you—through legal channels.”
It wouldn’t be possible to go directly from Bolivia to a developed country in Europe.
Governments weren’t naive—they knew when someone just wanted in for the benefits.
But there were workarounds.
For example, he could first obtain a Greek passport. Once he had that, he could enter Italy, and from there, use Italy as a stepping stone to reach the UK, France, Germany—anywhere.
All of this could be done legally. With the right connections and a bit of cash, the paperwork could be fast-tracked.
It wouldn’t be a problem. The system itself was designed to take advantage of people who could pay.
In Leo’s view, Diego choosing Europe would be best—for both Diego and himself.
If Diego left for Europe, then the elite class that had supported his father would have no puppet to manipulate, making it much easier for Leo to take control.
And for Diego, countries like the UK, France, Germany, or the Nordic nations—or even Spain, Portugal, or Italy—were paradise compared to Bolivia.
If he chose to settle in one of those countries, he could completely sever ties with his father’s power circle and live a life of his own.
Free from civil war.
Free from rebellion.
Far better than being someone’s pawn.
